My boyfriend, Carter, refused to drive with me to LAX to pick up my mom, claiming he had an urgent audition.

Instead, I found him on the 405 freeway, where he’d rear-ended me in my own custom Porsche.

He glanced at my Volvo, his arm wrapped around a panicked young influencer.

He scoffed, "It's just an old Volvo! Who cares if it got hit? It's not like I can't afford it!"

The onlookers were all praising him for being handsome and generous.

He pulled me aside and warned me, "That's a producer's daughter. This is just for my career, so don't you dare embarrass me."

I gave a tight nod, then turned to the influencer. "Since you love sloppy seconds so much, you can have the man and the car. My lawyer will be in touch about the bill."

Now, my ex is panicking.

He spends his days loitering outside my coworking space, the picture of dejection, pleading for me to take him back.

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1

My car was at a standstill on the 405. I was just about to text my boyfriend, Carter Hayes, when I was violently rear-ended.

"Carter, my mom's flight is delayed. I'm on the road outside the airport. I know you have an audition, so don't worry about us. Go nail it."

Before my thumb could hit send, a deafening bang shattered the silence.

The force of the collision shoved my Volvo forward several feet.

My phone flew from my hand.

My head smacked the steering wheel, and a sharp pain shot through my skull.

Still shaken, I craned my neck to look out the window—only to realize the car that hit me was the ice-pink Porsche 911 I’d bought and paid for just three months ago.

The car was registered in my name, but Carter had been the one driving it.

He had told me he was going to an important audition today and refused to come with me to the airport to pick up my mother, who was flying in specifically to meet him.

But seeing him here… he must have heard about the flight delay and rushed over to surprise me.

My heart warmed at the thought. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car.

I strode toward the Porsche, about to call his name, but the sound died in my throat.

A panicked young woman I didn't recognize was in the driver's seat, and my boyfriend, Carter, had his arm protectively in front of her, murmuring words of comfort.

"Baby, are you scared? Let me see, are you hurt?"

He’d never been this tender with me.

The woman seemed touched.

She threw herself into his arms, and he didn't push her away.

He even pulled out his phone, aimed it at her, and started directing her poses.

"Come on, Sloane, more dazed. Yes, a little hint of being shaken up… That's how you get your fans to feel for you."

They were so engrossed in staging their "accident" for Instagram that they didn't notice me standing right outside the car.

I just stood there, frozen. A white-hot wave of fury and helplessness washed over me, and my vision swam.

A full three minutes passed before Carter and the woman finished their shoot, exchanging satisfied glances.

Carter got out of the car with a grin, but it froze on his face when he looked up and met my icy stare.

Panic flickered in his eyes, but he quickly masked it.

Pretending he didn't know me, he shoved me aside and helped the young woman out of the car.

Sensing my anger, she buried her pale face in Carter's chest and sobbed.

"Carter, that woman looks so angry. I'm scared."

Carter shot me a venomous look before glancing at my trusty Volvo.

He scoffed, "It's just some old Volvo. Who cares if it got hit? It's not like I can't afford it."

He coolly tossed a business card at my feet. "Just let me know what the repair bill is."

Stunned, I didn't bend to pick up the card.

Carter and I had been together for four years.

I knew his number by heart.

It was the ultimate humiliation, the punchline to a four-year joke I hadn't even realized I was in.

I wanted to leave, but the stares from the surrounding cars made me feel trapped and exposed.

"Wow, he's handling this so well. Didn't even blink, just said he'd pay. Must be loaded."

"Damn, that girl is lucky. Her boyfriend's hot, rich, and totally smitten. That's an expensive Porsche, and he's not even mad she crashed it. Now that's love."

Hearing the crowd's comments, Carter's smugness grew.

Still holding the woman, he announced nonchalantly, "It's just a car. My baby is all that matters."

I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, willing the tears not to fall.

I was the one who bought the damn car.

When I first bought the Porsche, Carter had told me it wasn't safe for a woman to drive such a flashy car.

If it got scratched or dented, it would be heartbreaking.

He suggested he drive it instead, arguing it would make a better impression on producers and directors.

He claimed that when people saw my boyfriend driving a luxury car and succeeding, I would be the envy of everyone.

It made a twisted kind of sense at the time.

So, I handed him the keys before I'd even had a chance to really drive it myself.

He never once gave me a ride in it, though.

Whenever I asked for a pickup, he was always "busy writing."

My studio is far from home, and the subway is a hassle.

So, a few days ago, I bought a used Volvo XC60 for my commute.

Worried it might make him feel insecure, I hadn't told him about it yet.

And this was my reward for always putting him first.

He betrayed me and completely shattered my dignity.

Just as I was about to confront him, he pulled me aside.

All the tenderness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, hard glare.

"Look, Paige, this is Sloane. Her mom's a producer, and my mom wants us to date. If I screw this up, my script is dead. I'm just playing along for my career. But if you embarrass me, we're done. Right here, right now."

The self-righteous way he said it made him seem like a total stranger.

"But you're my boyfriend! Shouldn't you be explaining us to your mother, instead of doing this to me? Besides, I let you drive this car to help your career. I've barely even sat in it. How could you let another woman drive it? And crash it!"

Carter looked at me like I was an idiot.

"How could my mom ever accept you? You know she wants me with someone in the industry. She won't let me marry some career-obsessed woman. Besides, you gave me the car to drive, right? Who I let drive it is my business."

First of all, I bought this car for myself!

Initially, I was planning to buy a more low-key model, but Carter scoffed at it.

He said it was too plain, that it didn't make a statement.

He said he preferred the Porsche 911.

Then, when we got married, he could pick me up in it, and everyone would be so jealous of me.

To make that beautiful dream a reality, I gritted my teeth and drained my savings on the car.

But now, I couldn't even get in it.

Was this all an act? Or did he really feel nothing for me at all?

A knot of grief tightened in my throat.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind me.

"Paigey, what are you doing?"

I turned to see my mom walking toward me, pulling a suitcase.

The moment Carter saw my mom, the hostility on his face vanished, replaced by a dazzling smile.

"Helen! We came to pick you up."

Tears of relief pricked my eyes. My heart leaped. He did come for my mom. He does love me after all.

I followed him as we walked toward my mom.

But when he reached her, he paused, brushed right past her, and then happily took a suitcase from another stylish, middle-aged woman.

He even linked arms with her affectionately.

"You're finally here, Mrs. Fisher! Sloane and I have been waiting forever for you."

I stared blankly as he walked past me, attentively opening the car door for his new girlfriend and her mother.

A chilling numbness spread through me.

I had asked Carter countless times to come home with me to meet my parents, but he always found an excuse, always a firm no.

He claimed he had social anxiety, that he was no good with elders, except for his own mother.

But now, he wasn't just being friendly; he was practically groveling.

I watched Carter drive away in the car I bought, with someone else's mother.

The pain was suffocating.

And that's when my mom chose to walk up to me.

Her next words landed like a slap. "Paige," she said, her voice laced with disappointment, "when are you going to find me a son-in-law who's a real go-getter like that? He looks so promising."

I wanted to scream that the man she just saw was my boyfriend, but he was too busy fawning over another woman.

But seeing the disappointed look in her eyes, the words caught in my throat.

My mom eyed my car with disdain.

"What is this clunker you're driving? Did you see what they were in? A Porsche! Now that's impressive. A car like that must be worth hundreds of thousands!"

I forced a bitter smile.

My mom didn't know I was the one who paid for the Porsche.

If she found out, she'd probably have a heart attack.

As I drove, I didn't dare look at her, afraid the tears would finally spill over.

She lectured me the entire way.

I wasn't getting any younger, and she just hoped I'd find someone to settle down with.

When Carter and I first got together, I'd happily called her to share the news.

She immediately booked a flight to come meet her future son-in-law.

But he claimed he was busy that day, then had a business trip the next.

He refused to meet her, using every excuse in the book.

He even stopped answering my calls.

My mom stayed for two weeks and never once laid eyes on him.

She left in disappointment, even wondering if her eagerness had scared him off.

After that, she never mentioned visiting again.

Still, during holidays, she would always ask if I was bringing him home.

Every time, he firmly refused.

This went on until six months ago, when my mom finally lost her temper.

She demanded to know if I'd invented a boyfriend just to get her off my back.

Otherwise, why couldn't she meet him after four years?

Finally, she gave me an ultimatum: if she didn't meet this supposed boyfriend, I'd have to start going on dates with men she picked.

We had a massive fight over it.

I didn't speak to her for months.

That changed two months ago, when my father died in a car accident.

I begged Carter to come home with me, but once again, he vanished, brushing me off with a single text.

"My aunt broke her leg. I have to go take care of her, so I can't go with you."

The excuse was so pathetic I didn't even have the energy to argue. I went to my father's funeral alone.

It was a sudden, devastating loss.

Unsurprisingly, my mom was shattered by grief.

Seeing her so broken, I gathered my courage and asked her to fly out to see me as soon as possible.

I promised her she would meet Carter this time.

I thought if I just begged hard enough, if I could appeal to his sympathy, he would agree.

But he just looked at me coldly and refused flat out.

"Paige, I've told you, I'm not comfortable around elders. If you keep pushing, let's just break up."

He was always like this.

The second I went against his wishes, he'd threaten to leave.

And I would always panic, apologize, and cave to his unreasonable demands.

The 'loving relationship' I thought we had was just a house of cards I'd built for myself. He didn't love me. He couldn't even be bothered to pretend anymore.

It was time to wake up.

When we got back to the "creative studio" I rented for him, my mom's mood soured even more.

"Paige, even if you can't find a decent boyfriend, why are you living in such a dump?"

I smiled bitterly and said nothing.

This was the apartment Carter had rented.

I'd asked to move in with him since it was closer to my actual studio.

He was reluctant, only agreeing after I offered to pay his rent.

But when he came to help me move and saw my loft in the arts district, his eyes lit up.

He gushed about the location, the artistic vibe, how it would inspire his creativity.

Then, he tentatively asked if he could crash at my place when he was writing late.

I agreed without a second thought and immediately set his access permissions to "administrator" in the smart lock app.

Who knew he would end up practically moving in?

He rarely returned to his own rental.

After looking around the apartment, my mom stared at me with suspicion.

"Paige, I don't see a single sign a man lives here. I knew it. You've been lying to me all along."

Hearing her words, I looked around properly.

Only then did I realize Carter had moved all his things out at some point.

I guess I was so used to being here alone, I hadn't even noticed.

I gave my mom a flimsy excuse, told her to rest, and then grabbed my car keys and left.

As soon as I arrived at my loft, I saw the Porsche in my designated parking spot.

Carter was back.

Annoyed, I went upstairs. Standing at my own door, I opened the app on my phone, but the lock icon was grayed out.

My phone just flashed a 'Permission Denied' error.

I couldn't believe it.

I tried again and again, but I still couldn't open the door.

Left with no choice, I tried the backup passcode. That had been changed, too.

Frustration boiled into pure rage, and I started hammering on the door with my fists.

"I know you're in there, Carter! Get out here!"

I screamed until my throat was raw before the door finally creaked open.

Carter frowned at me, his eyes filled with the kind of look you give an enemy.

He lowered his voice, threatening, "Are you crazy, Paige? Do you have to make a scene? If you keep this up, we might as well—"

I couldn't help it; a cold laugh escaped my lips. "Might as well what? Break up? Is that your big threat? Fine! Get out here and clear this up, and we'll make a clean break right now!"

Carter probably never expected me to be so firm.

He stared at me, speechless.

Just as he was about to speak, a delicate voice came from behind him. "Who is it, Carter? Why did you just open our door?"

He stammered, flustered, "N-no one. Just a crazy fan. She thinks she still lives here."

Ignoring my fury, Carter pushed me away and warned, "Get lost! If you come back and bother us again, I'm calling security!"

I stood outside my own door, tears of humiliation finally falling for how pathetic I'd been.

I had worked day and night for this loft, and now I was locked out.

In his eyes, I was just a fool to be used and discarded.

It's terrifying how fast love can die.

I glanced at Sloane, the girl Carter was so desperately protecting, let out a chilling laugh, and pulled out my phone.

"Then let's call the police. I hope you haven't forgotten whose name is on the deed to this loft. We'll see who they arrest!"

Ignoring the panic blooming on Carter's face, I gritted my teeth and dialed 911.