1 "Stella, are you sure about this? You want to give up the surgery?" On the other end of the line, my doctor's voice was laced with disbelief. He probably couldn't fathom why I would refuse a kidney I had waited over two years to find. "You need to think this through," he urged. "Your condition is in its final stages. Without a transplant, you don't have much time left…" "Yes. I know." I hung up and looked down at the legal document in my hand. Caleb Sterling’s name was printed in sharp, clear ink. My boyfriend of seven years. Now, with a single lawsuit, he was dragging me to court, demanding I repay every cent he had ever spent on me during our relationship. I let out a slow, shaky breath and knocked on the door of the Sterling family mansion. The woman who opened it was Caleb’s new girlfriend, Seraphina, draped in a luxurious designer dress, her makeup flawless. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." Her voice was a purr of amusement. She turned her head and called out, "Honey, you have to see who's here." Seeing Caleb again felt like staring across a lifetime. He leaned against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, his handsome, familiar face now a mask of cool detachment. His cold gaze landed on me. "Did you bring the money?" I pulled a bank card from my purse and held it out. Seraphina snatched it from my hand, toying with it as her eyes, sharp and provocative, met mine. "Thirty thousand dollars... I suppose it's not even enough for a day at the spa for me, but at least," she smirked, "we can get a new wardrobe for my little Prince." She then called over a Schnauzer. Even the dog was decked out in a top-tier designer brand. Caleb wrapped an arm around Seraphina’s waist, his voice a low, doting murmur. "Only thirty thousand for Prince's clothes? That's not nearly enough. I'll transfer you another half a million later. Go pick out something really nice for him." Prince, of course, was the dog. Watching them, so wrapped up in each other, I dug my nails into my palms. For some reason, the Schnauzer suddenly bared its teeth at me, letting out a low growl. I flinched and took two steps back. Seraphina saw this and bent down to stroke the dog’s head, a saccharine smile on her face as she looked at me. "Oh, I am so sorry," she cooed. "My little Prince has never seen a poor person before. It must be a shock to his system. Ms. Knight, next time you decide to visit, do try to wear something a little more presentable. Then my puppy won't feel the need to bite you." A few of the Sterling family's maids, standing nearby, covered their mouths to stifle their giggles. I looked down at my own clothes. A faded, washed-out outfit, the pocket of my shirt crudely mended with a patch. Caleb let out a short, contemptuous snort, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Stella Knight," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You took so much money from my mother. Don't tell me you've already squandered it all." "Or," he added, his eyes narrowing, "are you deliberately dressing like this to play the victim card?" 2 I said nothing, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt. "I've paid you back," I finally managed. "From now on, we owe each other nothing." I just wanted to escape, but Seraphina's voice stopped me. "Wait." She walked toward me, pulled a single dollar coin from her purse, and tossed it at my feet. "Thank you for the entertainment today," she said, an eyebrow arched in contempt. "Here's a buck for your trouble." I looked at the coin on the ground, a small, shining monument to my humiliation. Then I looked at Caleb, still leaning in the doorway, smoking, watching me with that same dismissive look in his eyes. "Thank you for the kind offer, Ms. Dubois," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "But I think you should keep it." With that, I turned and fled. I returned to my shoebox apartment, a sub-level room no bigger than a parking space. The bed was just a few feet from the toilet. It was dank and windowless, a concrete tomb. Yet, it gave me a strange sense of security. I never thought I would see Caleb again. I certainly never imagined it would be like this. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, which was covered in a dense mosaic of photographs. Hot tears traced paths from the corners of my eyes. One hundred and two photos. Every single picture we had taken in our seven years together. He wasn't that boy in a school uniform anymore, the one who shouted to the world, "I will only ever love Stella Knight!" Now, he was the heir to an unimaginable fortune, the future CEO of the Sterling Corporation, and Seraphina Dubois's fiancé. We were worlds apart. I took a deep breath, pulled down every single photo, and stuffed them into a dusty old box. But when I opened the box, the first thing I saw was a painting. A girl in a pristine white wedding dress, her smile radiant. Caleb had painted it himself. He had told me the girl in the painting was me, and that one day, he would be the one to put that dress on me. A wave of bitter sadness washed over me. I traced the faded lines of the painting. I wonder, I thought, if, in a way, this counts as having married him? I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh and closed the box. Then I called my boss. "Mr. Wallace, I'll take the Apex Group project." Last week, Mr. Wallace had suddenly assigned the Apex project to me. Everyone in the office knew that landing the Apex account wasn't about experience or skill. There were unspoken rules, and everyone knew what they were. But right now, all I wanted was to live. "I'm glad you've come to your senses," Mr. Wallace said on the phone, his voice slick. "Look at you, a pretty face, you're a smart girl. Sometimes, you just have to be… flexible." He sent me an address. A private room at a high-end club. "Be there tonight. And wear something nice." "Okay," I whispered, and hung up. When I pushed open the door to the private lounge, the first person I saw was Caleb, sitting with a few of his old friends. The project manager from Apex Group, a man named Harrison, grinned at me. "You must be the little lady from my nine o'clock," he said, his small, puffy eyes raking over my body with a look so vulgar it made my skin crawl. He patted his thigh. "Come on, sit right here. We'll have a good, long talk about this project." Beside him, Caleb’s eyes were arctic. He stubbed out his cigarette, his voice a low, mocking drawl. "I didn't realize you were scraping the bottom of the barrel these days, Harrison." 3 Hearing this, Harrison turned to Caleb, bewildered, and rubbed his bald head. "She doesn't look half-bad to me." Caleb sneered, his eyes lingering on my simple, thin dress. "True. It's amazing what some women will do for money, isn't it? No standards, no self-respect." My fingers clenched into fists as the others in the room started pointing and whispering. I forced myself to remain calm, pulling the project proposal from my bag and holding it out to Harrison. "Mr. Harrison, this is the partnership agreement. If you'd like to take a look…" Before I could finish, Harrison grabbed me, pulling me into his lap. His rough hand started moving up my thigh. A wave of nausea washed over me. But Caleb’s friends were egging him on. "What are you waiting for, Harrison? Kiss her!" I clutched the hem of my dress, my eyes darting to Caleb. For a split second, a pathetic, desperate part of me still hoped he would help me. But he just stood up, his face a blank mask. He picked up a glass of whiskey from the table and poured it directly over my head. I gasped, shivering as the cold liquid soaked through my clothes. He loomed over me, his voice a low, cruel whisper. "This is no fun." He pushed a fruit platter in front of me. It was filled with mangoes. My heart seized. I stared at him in disbelief. Caleb reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a credit card, and tossed it on the floor. "There's fifty thousand dollars on that card," he said. "Eat all of these mangoes, and the money is yours." I stared at the card on the grimy floor, a bitter smile twisting my lips. We were together for seven years. He couldn't possibly not know that I'm deathly allergic to mangoes. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on me. Tears welled in my eyes. After a long, silent moment, I spoke. "If I eat all of these… the money… I don't have to pay it back, right?" In that moment, my will to live was absolute. I was only twenty-six. I didn't want to die. Caleb’s brow furrowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. I reached for a slice of mango and shoved it into my mouth. I ate ravenously, gulping down piece after piece. Even as my body started to heave and an angry red rash began to bloom across my skin, I didn't stop. Caleb's friends, all sons of Westport’s elite, knew the history between us. Two years ago, when the Sterling Corporation went bankrupt, Caleb was hounded by creditors to the point of suicide. That was when I had left him, seemingly without a second thought. He had searched for me like a madman, sinking into a deep depression. Now that the Sterlings were back on top, of course they wouldn't let me off easy. They whistled and catcalled, filming me with their phones. "Pathetic," Caleb muttered. He suddenly grabbed my arm, his fingers exposing a faint, old tattoo on my wrist—a single letter, "C." He froze for a second, a self-mocking sneer twisting his lips before he flung my arm away in disgust. He rolled up his own sleeve, his voice dripping with contempt. "Stella Knight, you really have no bottom line when it comes to money, do you?" "Fine. Eat all of these mangoes in the next three minutes, and I'll forget about the debt." The room was filled with jeers and lewd taunts. I felt like a clown in a circus, surrounded by mocking faces. I fought against the swelling in my throat and the fire on my skin, forcing a wretched smile at Caleb. "Okay. I'll eat faster. I'll finish them all." As I reached for another piece, Caleb finally snapped. He let out a roar of pure rage and flipped the entire table over.
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