She rummaged through her purse for a moment.

Then she pulled out a fast-food coupon and tossed it at me along with the hundred-dollar bill from earlier.

"Here, sweetie. Take this and treat yourself to a meal at the fast-food place across the street. There's even a coupon so you can save a little. Can't have you going hungry."

"But don't come around here again. Clem is a real financial elite now. He's way out of your league, you unemployed little nobody."

Clement preened at his new girlfriend's flattery, smugness plastered across his face.

I looked at him.

"Clement, a brain is a wonderful thing. Too bad you don't have one. You really think you've climbed the social ladder and reinvented yourself? All you did was go from being a cheap errand boy to a slightly less cheap errand boy."

Clement's face twisted with rage. He lunged forward and grabbed the worn canvas tote bag right out of my hands.

"Let's see what's in this ratty bag of yours. Cardboard scraps and empty bottles you picked out of the trash?"

The moment his fist closed around the opening of the bag, I clamped down on his wrist and held on.

He snarled at me.

"Let go of me, Cecily! What kind of garbage are you hiding in this thing?"

I smiled.

"Clement. Do you have any idea how much rent this building collects every month?"

The question caught him off guard. He blinked, then his fury doubled.

"What the hell does that have to do with you? You can't even afford to feed yourself, and you're asking about rent? What, you want a job at the front desk? Dream on. You'd be lucky to get hired as a janitor."

He wrenched his arm free.

The bag tore apart in the struggle.

Everything inside scattered across the marble floor.

A yellowed, dog-eared notebook. An old fountain pen. And a thick stack of documents.

Clement rubbed his wrist and glanced down at what had spilled out.

Central Tower — Outstanding Rent Collection Notice.

He bent down and picked up the notice, scanning it once.

"Ha! Oh, this is rich!" He threw his head back and laughed. "Cecily, you've completely lost it!"

He held the notice up high, waving it for everyone around to see.

"Look at this, everyone! This woman forged a rent collection notice for the Central Tower just to win me back! What, did you binge too many soap operas and think you could wave a few pieces of paper around and pass yourself off as some billionaire heiress?"

My blood ran hot. "Clement, look at it properly. There's an official seal on that document!"

The office workers crowding around erupted into murmurs. Every pair of eyes that turned my way dripped with contempt.

"So she's a scammer? That's pathetic."

"That seal's probably carved out of a potato. Gutsy, though, I'll give her that. She did a decent job faking it."

"People like that deserve what they get. Someone call the cops. A couple nights in a holding cell would do her good."

I stared at their faces, and the absurdity of it all hit me like a wall. I'd come here to collect rent. Nothing more. How had that turned into me trying to win him back?

Constance sauntered toward me, triumph radiating from every pore.

Her stiletto came down on my fountain pen.

The pen shattered.

Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head.

"No!"

That pen was the one my grandfather had used to sign his very first deal when he built the Summers empire from nothing. On his deathbed, he'd placed it in my hands himself and told me never to forget where we came from. I never used it. It was too precious. I'd brought it with me today only because I wanted it close while I collected rent, a reminder of everything the Summers family had sacrificed to get here.

"Constance, get your foot off it!"

I threw myself forward, desperate to pull the pen free, but she ground her heel down harder.

A jagged shard of the barrel drove into my fingertip.

Pain, white-hot and blinding.

But I didn't care about my hand. My fingers trembled as I gathered the broken pieces, one by one.

"Constance, move out of the way..." My voice was shaking.

That was when a large hand grabbed the back of my collar and threw me to the ground.

It was Clement.

"Cecily! What the hell is wrong with you? It's just a piece of junk pen. Are you trying to shake Connie down for it?"

Constance leaned close to my ear. "Cecily, are you really this pathetic? You committed fraud just to chase after a man, and now you're pulling this? You make me sick."

Looking at my grandfather's keepsake shattered across the floor, I felt a rage I couldn't contain.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I shot to my feet and swung with every ounce of strength I had, aiming a slap straight at her face.

Clement caught my wrist mid-swing.

He was livid, shoving me hard. "You crazy bitch, you think you can hit someone?!"

The force of his push sent me stumbling backward. My back slammed into one of the lobby pillars, and pain exploded through my ribs and spine, so sharp it stole the breath from my lungs.

Constance threw herself into Clement's arms, her face the picture of wounded innocence.

"Clem, I didn't mean to step on her pen. And she tried to hit me."

"I was so scared."

Clement immediately stroked her hair, his voice soft and soothing. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm right here. She wouldn't dare hurt you."

Those words sounded so familiar.

Sophomore year. We'd been walking back to campus after one of his part-time shifts. It was already dark, and a group of guys started hassling us on the road.

He'd held me just like that, held me tight while I cried, ignoring the bruise already blooming at the corner of his own mouth, stroking my hair as he whispered:

"Don't be scared, Cece. I'm right here. I'll shield you from every storm. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not if God himself comes knocking."

But today, the storm was him.

A crowd had gathered around us, rubberneckers who fed on other people's misery.

"The fraud's got some nerve trying to hit people. Guess she's lashing out because she got caught."

"Right? Constance didn't even do anything, and she almost got slapped."

"I've worked with Constance before. She's gorgeous, kind, great personality. How does someone like that end up dealing with someone like this?"

I couldn't afford to care about the whispers. I swallowed the searing pain in my chest and my bleeding fingers and crawled toward the scattered remains of my pen and notebook.

Clement noticed. He strode over.

"What is this thing? It's not company secrets from one of the businesses here, is it? After all, you're the kind of person who forges billing notices."

"Give it to me!"

"No. It's my personal property." I clutched the notebook tighter against my chest.

All my grandfather had left me was that pen and this notebook. The pen was already gone.

Clement grabbed the notebook with one hand and shoved me down with the other.

I wasn't as strong as he was. The notebook was ripped from my arms.

He flipped it open and glanced through the pages.

"What is this garbage? Self-help quotes? A how-to guide for scamming people? The thing's falling apart. What, is fraud the family business?"

"Cecily, how did I never see what kind of person you really are?"

"I must've been blind to ever fall for you."

He tore the notebook to shreds and flung the pieces in my face.

I felt my heart bleed. The last thing my grandfather had left me was gone.

Yeah. How was I ever so blind?

The tears came, and I couldn't stop them.

Every tear was water that had flooded my brain the day I fell for him. Now it was draining out, and my mind was finally clearing.

I thought of the investigation I'd recently asked Thomas Dickerson to conduct, the matter of the twenty million dollars I'd once invested in Clement.

My hand slipped quietly into my pocket and pressed the switch on the voice recorder.

My father had taught me: always keep evidence. Tenants came in all types, so I always carried it when I went to collect rent.

Clement looked pleased with himself right now. I was certain I could get him talking.

"Clement, I want to know. The twenty million dollars in investment I brought in back then—did it really all go under?"

"You want to know?" He smirked. "Given how pathetic your life's turned out, I guess there's no harm in telling you."

He leaned in close and lowered his voice.

"That twenty million you worked so hard to secure? It didn't go under. I cooked the books, laundered every cent, and funneled it all into my own accounts."

"With twenty million, I could leapfrog into a whole new class. I could have everything I ever wanted."

"Why would I grind myself to death running a startup?"

My head snapped up. I stared at that face, once so familiar, now unrecognizable.

I'd suspected he might have siphoned off some of the money. But all of it? Every last dollar?

Was this really the same boy who used to give me the last bite of meat from his plate in college?

My teeth clenched so hard they ached. My whole body trembled. "Clement, you animal! Aren't you afraid the investors will find out and come after you?"

"Ha ha ha ha..." Clement doubled over laughing.

He reached out and patted my cheek. "Come after me? So what? You're the one who brought in the investment. You're the one listed as the guarantor. If anyone comes looking for answers, you're the one holding the bag. What's any of that got to do with me?"

"Besides, if I hadn't used your money as my golden ticket, how do you think I got in with the Glass family?"

"Oh, right. There's one more thing I forgot to thank you for."

"You know how I landed that offer at the top investment bank? It was because I submitted a brilliant analysis report on the Lakeview Business District acquisition during my interview." He grinned. "The one you stayed up three nights straight writing with your own two hands."

"You handed me the money and the career. I really should thank you properly, you stupid little fool."

Looking at that smug, gloating face, my blood boiled. My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides.

He'd taken my money. Stolen my work. And now he was using all of it to humiliate me, calling me stupid to my face.

"Clement, karma will find you," I spat.

At the same time, I pressed the emergency alert bracelet on my wrist. It had a panic call function and GPS tracking.

Constance hadn't been idle either. She'd been rifling through the stack of overdue notices and found the one addressed to her father's company.

She stormed over and slapped me across the face.

My head whipped to the side. My cheek burned like it had been pressed against a hot iron.

"Cecily Summers! You went digging into my family's company just to get back at Clem?"

"Start talking. How did you find out my family's company owes back rent? How do you know the exact amount? What else have you been snooping into?"

Clement rushed forward and clamped his hand down on my shoulder.

"Cecily, you're out of your mind!"

Disgust twisted his features as he shouted in my face. "You went and dug up confidential information about Connie's family business, then forged an official seal to extort them? That's a crime!"

I ran my tongue along the corner of my mouth, tasting copper. I looked at the two of them standing there, this sorry excuse for a couple.

"I don't just know your family owes six million in back rent."

A cold laugh escaped my lips. "I also know that besides Clement here, your loyal little sugar daddy, you've got a few other generous benefactors on the side."

The color drained from Constance's face. Her eyes darted away for just a second.

Clement opened his mouth, about to say something.

A man's voice echoed from around the corner of the hallway. "Who's causing trouble in here?"

A man in a building security chief's uniform walked toward us.

The moment Constance saw who it was, her eyes lit up.

She hurried over to meet him.

"Ronnie Lawrence! Thank God you're here! This psycho forged overdue notices with the building's letterhead, and then she attacked me!"

I looked at this "Ronnie." So it was him.