During the single minute the elevator plunged out of control, my mind was entirely filled with Julian, who was supposedly waiting in his hospital bed for the money that would save his life. I had called him twenty-eight times, desperate to tell him that I had finally scraped together enough cash for his surgery, so he wouldn’t have to worry. But he never picked up. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a stretcher, being wheeled toward an ambulance. From the crowding onlookers, a girly, high-pitched voice piped up with amusement, "Look at her, babe. She looks like a suffocating dog." Hearing this, the man beside her cast a careless glance in my direction. In that instant, my eyes locked with Julian's—the very man who was supposed to be dying in a hospital bed. The man who had been terminally ill yesterday was now standing right in front of me, looking perfectly healthy. In his hand, he held a luxury designer handbag that I could never afford in a lifetime. He froze for a second, then looked away coldly. "She does. Just some nobody. Don't waste your breath on her." "Aren't we supposed to go look at wedding dresses today?" Lying on the stretcher, I watched their intimate, retreating figures. It turned out that the five years I had spent sacrificing my life for our relationship was nothing but a sickening joke.
The paramedic pressed an oxygen mask to my face, and the agonizing chest tightness of my asthma attack finally eased a little. "You need to rest for a few days. Look at all these old injuries on your body," the nurse said, frowning at my chart. "Severe malnutrition, asthma, low blood sugar... If you keep pushing yourself like this, how is your baby supposed to survive?" "Where is your husband? Call him to come and take care of you." I forced a bitter smile. "...He's not coming." My body had broken down solely because I was working myself to death to save him. My entire life had revolved around making money. I thought if I could just make a few thousand more dollars, he could have his life-saving surgery. Yet today, he stood before me, glowing with health, without a single trace of illness. I touched my flat stomach, tears spilling over. I hadn't even given my baby enough nutrients, all because I was running myself ragged for his lies. How could I have been so incredibly stupid? My phone buzzed. It was a message from Julian. "I'll explain everything tonight." "Make sure you clean the apartment first. Nobody's lived there for a week, and it’s filthy." My fingers trembled as I slowly typed back, "Did you not see that I was hospitalized?" After a long pause, his reply came. "Whatever." "If the place is dirty, I'm not coming home." Suddenly, I found it hilarious. He was a neat freak. To make him comfortable in our crummy studio apartment, I used to clean the entire place top to bottom every single day. Even when my period cramps were so bad I was on the verge of fainting, I would still wash the bedsheets until they were spotless. He used to wrap his arms around me, laughing softly in my ear. "It feels so good to be with you. I really want to spend the rest of my life like this." Back then, I was so blinded by his sweet words. So, even when his business failed and left him in debt, and even when he claimed he had stomach cancer and needed constant, expensive treatments, I never gave up on him. Aside from my day job as a graphic designer, I took on deliveries and worked at a street food cart. I kept telling myself that if I just worked a little harder, took on a few more shifts, we would eventually have a happy life. I stayed on the IV drip until dusk before dragging myself back to the apartment. The place was small and empty, with a thin layer of dust coating the furniture. Usually, I would have grabbed a rag and scrubbed the place three times over by now. But now, I just sat there in the dark. I had previously created a burner Instagram account pretending to be a local snack vendor to follow Julian's private account. The moment I clicked on his profile, my screen was flooded with updates. Photos of him shopping with a girl, silly selfies at the zoo, and shots of them holding hands on the beach. Suddenly, a photo at an amusement park pierced my eyes. In the picture, he was buying a doughnut for the girl. The caption read: "Hope you stay sweet forever." And the person selling the doughnut was me, wearing a hot, heavy mascot suit, working myself to death to earn money for him. I was doing silly dances in that costume, making treats, and handing them to the girl he loved. In that photo, neither of us had recognized the other. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Julian had sent a message to my burner Instagram account. "Hi, my girlfriend loves cake. How much for a custom one?" I never liked cake. This was for her. Staring at the screen, I typed in a standard two-digit price. The next second, he sent me $500 via PayPal. "Keep the change as a tip. Please make it as fast as possible. Thanks." I had been skipping $15 meals just to save money for his medical bills. Yet, he threw around $500 like it was pocket change, just to get his girl a cake a little faster. Seeing that I hadn't replied immediately, he sent another $500. "I’ll pay extra. Can you deliver it within two hours?" I accepted the money and asked for the address. It was a five-star luxury hotel downtown.
By the time I arrived at the suite door with the cake, an hour and a half had passed. When Julian opened the door half-naked, I saw the marks on his skin clearly. Fresh, red scratch marks, lined all over his chest and shoulders. Looking at him as he froze in shock, I let out a mocking laugh. "Julian Vance. Is this the explanation you promised me?" A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly covered it up, snapping angrily, "Are you tracking me now? Do you really have nothing better to do with your life?" The sheer audacity of this man. Before I could speak, a sweet, whining voice drifted from the bedroom. "Babe, you promised to carry me to the shower. Hurry up!" He gave me a rushed, dismissive look, then walked back inside, tenderly picking the girl up and carrying her into the bathroom. I stood there, staring blankly at the empty hallway. I remembered when I had playfully asked him for a princess carry once. He had only stepped back with disgust. "How old are you, Amber? Stop being so childish." The only time he had ever shown me genuine warmth was the day his business supposedly failed and he "fell ill." I had cried by his hospital bed, promising him that I would stick by him, start over, and take care of him. His eyes, usually so cold, had softened then, and he had held me tight. "Thank God I have you." "I promise I’ll love you forever and give you the best life." But later, as I worked day and night, his warmth slowly faded into indifference. Now I realized he hadn't changed. He just didn't care about me. The heavy, intimate scent from the room drifted into my nose. A sudden wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged, covering my mouth. I had never once suspected Julian of cheating. He had always put on a cold front around other women. I had even teased him about his type once. "Whatever you look like, that's my type," he had said. He was a man of few words, but every word back then made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Even when the terror of the plunging elevator nearly made me faint, my only thought had been his safety. I laughed at myself. Just as I turned to leave, the girl, wrapped in a plush hotel towel, walked out and gasped. "Oh my god, babe! Isn't she the girl on the stretcher from this morning?" "Wow, working right after getting out of the hospital? That’s so pathetic." "Babe, we should give her a bigger tip." Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. "I'll Venmo her later. Go back to sleep, sweetie. We have our wedding photoshoot tomorrow." He shut the door, giving me one last, cold look. "Wait for me downstairs." Clutching my phone, I walked down to the lobby in a daze and sat down. The sofa in the luxury hotel was incredibly soft, like the bed of my dreams. Suddenly, I felt tired. So tired that every bone in my body ached. This feeling of utter exhaustion had appeared so many times in my life. Scraps of food from the orphanage, plastic bottles from trash cans, underpaid manual labor... Things that normal people wouldn't even look at, I had to fight tooth and nail just to get. When a shady boss had once broken my leg and thrown me into a dark alleyway by a dumpster, I had almost given up on life. I felt like living was just too painful. But then, a pair of warm hands had pulled me up. "Don't fall asleep. Stay awake. I'm taking you to a doctor." The man had sharp, handsome features, but his eyes were filled with warmth. That was the first time I met Julian. After that, he constantly showed up in my bleak life. He would help me carry heavy boxes without a word, stand in front of me when my boss yelled at me, and even learned how to bargain for me. A man who wore tailored suits would argue with a vendor for two hours just to save me a few dollars. I had dragged myself through college with sheer will, and on the night of my graduation, he confessed to me. "Be with me, Amber. I won't let you suffer anymore." I had nodded frantically, grasping onto a dream I never dared to hope for. "Wake up! Stop sleeping!" My body was violently shaken, shattering my dream. The sharp features of the man in my dream appeared before me. It was the same man, but his expression was entirely different. He looked cold and detached, as if he had finally ripped off a mask he had worn for years. "Actually, I was never bankrupt. And I was never sick."
He sat down beside me and lit a cigarette. "I'm the sole heir of Vance Enterprises. We were never in the same league." "Meeting you was just a penalty for losing a bet with my friends." "Chloe is my fiancée. We were always going to end up together." I stared at him, my mind blank, unable to utter a single word. He smirked. "I lied about the bankruptcy and the cancer just to get rid of you." "But you just had to be the martyr and insist on suffering with me." "What was the point of your sacrifice? My family would never accept a girl like you anyway." I sat frozen on the sofa. After what felt like an eternity, I choked out, "...Then why didn't you just tell me the truth?!" "We signed our marriage certificate! And now you're having a wedding with someone else? What am I to you?" He fell silent, watching the cigarette burn down before speaking slowly. "I didn't tell you because you're pathetic." "You always looked at me with those sad, puppy eyes, like you'd die on the spot if we broke up. How was I supposed to say it?" "Plus, you're stupid." "Stupid enough to not even realize that marriage certificate was fake." It felt like a physical blow to my head. I couldn't breathe. The cigarette burned out. He stubbed it in the ashtray, then patted my head dismissively. "You're so dumb, I almost feel bad throwing you out." "Just stay with me. As my mistress. Chloe already agreed to it." "I can set up a generous allowance for you..." Before he could finish, I slapped him across the face. "You disgusting, shameless bastard. I was blind to ever love you." For once, he actually looked stunned. My entire body was shaking with rage. I raised my hand and slapped him again, even harder. "Five years! I gave you five years of my life! I worked myself into the ground for you!" "And you? You treated me like a clown! You were sleeping with another woman behind my back!" "How pathetic did you think I was to let you trample on me like this?!" His face darkened. "I admit it was my fault for not making things clear earlier, so I'll let your little tantrum slide." "But you're a friendless orphan, Amber. Without me, where else do you have to go?" He reached his hand out to me, just like he had done years ago in that alleyway. "Be good. As long as you listen to me, I promise I'll make sure you're well taken care of." I didn't care about a single word he said. I ripped off the cheap bracelet on my wrist and hurled it directly at his face. The cheap bracelet was bought from a street vendor—the only thing Julian had ever given me. "Go to hell! I would rather eat out of trash cans than spend another second near you!" Ignoring his furious expression, I turned and stormed out of the hotel. The next morning when I went to work, I was called into the HR office and told I was fired. "Someone high up called our CEO. They said we couldn't keep you. I'm sorry, Amber," the HR manager whispered, looking sympathetic. "Who on earth did you offend?" I could only offer a bitter laugh. Because of Julian's anger, I had lost my only steady source of income. For the next week, every single job application I sent out was instantly rejected. While waiting for my twentieth interview, I scrolled through Instagram and saw a post that made my stomach turn. Chloe had posted: "My husband has this pathetic, ugly, broke stalker who thinks she's his mistress. How should I deal with her?" The comments were vile. Some suggested doxxing me, others suggested printing out flyers, and some even suggested beating me up. Finally, Chloe had replied to a comment: "Honestly, she’s so low-class that dealing with her feels beneath me. Luckily, my husband is smart. He didn't give her a single dime, and even faked stomach cancer to trick her out of tens of thousands of dollars."
So, Chloe had known about my miserable existence all along. She just found me too pathetic to even bother with. Since I couldn't get a design job, I had no choice but to go back to making deliveries. I had to pay rent, and I had to feed the baby growing inside me. This baby was the only thing left of those five years of devotion. A brand-new, innocent life. I would do whatever it took to make sure my child wouldn't have to suffer the way I did. At eleven o'clock one night, I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted, when my door was suddenly kicked open. "Well, well. So this is where the trash lives." Chloe walked in, a cruel smirk on her face. "I only found out a few days ago that my husband's little toy lived in a dump like this. How embarrassing." I forced my voice to remain cold. "This is my apartment. Get out." She laughed as if she had just heard the funniest joke, turning to the open door. "Babe, look how stupid she is! She doesn't even know this is your property!" "This entire block of apartments is owned by Vance Enterprises." I clenched my fists, a wave of humiliation washing over me. "Oh, by the way, when my husband pretended to be sick, he stayed at one of his family's private clinics," Chloe sneered, stepping closer. "All that money you practically starved yourself to pay the hospital? It went straight into our joint bank account. I used it to buy my new Chanel bags." I stared past her at the man standing in the doorway. All my hard work, my hope, my sacrifices... they were all just a joke to them. When the doctor had first told me Julian was terminally ill, I hadn't hesitated. I believed he was my only family, my soulmate. I was willing to throw away every ounce of my dignity to save him. I had literally fallen to my knees, begging the surgeon with tears streaming down my face. I thought that was the most humiliating moment of my life. But I was wrong. In front of Julian and Chloe, my love and sacrifices were branded as the desperate acts of a pathetic side piece. "This" was true, endless humiliation. I grit my teeth, projecting every ounce of strength I had left. "Get out of my life. I never want to see either of you again." The moment the words left my mouth, one of Chloe's bodyguards kicked me hard in the stomach. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen, and cold sweat immediately broke out on my forehead. Chloe walked over with a malicious grin and slapped me hard across the face. "I haven't even started on you, and you're already throwing a tantrum? Who do you think you are?" She signaled the bodyguards to hold me down while she slapped me repeatedly. My vision went blurry, and metallic-tasting blood filled my mouth. She leaned down, whispering in my ear, "I wonder if that little bastard in your womb can survive this?" "No! Please! I was wrong! I'll leave! I'll disappear from your lives forever!" I looked at Julian, begging him with my eyes, tears streaming down my face. "Julian, please... please save my baby..." But the man I had loved for five years only cast a fleeting, indifferent glance at me before looking away. "Why should we keep a bastard anyway?" he said coldly. My heart shattered into a million pieces. Panic consumed me, and I began to struggle wildly. "No, please... please don't do this..." Chloe laughed hysterically and kicked me hard in the stomach with her pointed heel. "As long as I'm around, your bastard doesn't get to live!" The sharp heel dug into my abdomen again and again. The agonizing pain made me scream. I curled into a ball on the floor, my vision fading. Through the haze of my tears, I saw Julian walk toward me. His familiar scent filled my nose, and he bent down. But he didn't touch me. He gently picked Chloe up in his arms. "Why do you have to do the dirty work yourself? Doesn't your foot hurt?" His voice was incredibly gentle. "We have our wedding rehearsal tomorrow. Let's go home, and I'll give you a massage." By the time Julian finished the wedding rehearsal with Chloe, it was almost ten at night. He bought a bouquet of fresh roses and drove back to my apartment, intending to throw me a bone. He had purposely ignored me these past few weeks to secure the merger with Chloe's family. He figured he might have been a bit too harsh with his words, and that I was probably crying in the apartment, waiting for him. But when he pushed the door open, the place was completely empty. Everything was gone. Only a torn-up, fake marriage certificate lay scattered across the dusty floor.
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