1 Liam’s family was supposed to be broke. Since we started dating, I was always the one buying things, paying for dinners, trying to ease the burden of his empty pockets. With our anniversary just around the corner, I took a part-time job at a high-end luxury department store, hoping to save up enough to buy him a decent tailored suit. The store was quiet, the afternoon dragging, when a young couple walked into the Cartier boutique right next to my section. The girl clung to the man’s sleeve, her voice dripping with sweet, performative irritation. "Why haven't you broken up with that charity case yet? You aren't actually serious about her, are you?" The man didn't look up from his phone as he handed his black card to the cashier, casually purchasing an array of gold jewelry. "Didn't you tell me to make her fall madly in love with me before throwing her away? The game is only halfway through. What's the rush?" A cold, heavy numbness settled in my chest. The girl was Brooke Harrington—the person who had made my high school years a living hell. And the man standing beside her, holding the black card, was Liam. When I first saw him in the boutique, my brain refused to connect the dots. He was wearing an Italian silk shirt, a luxury watch glinting on his wrist. The Liam in my head only wore faded denim jacket and worn-out sneakers, the kind of guy who stared at a six-dollar draft beer and hesitated before ordering. Just last week, we had walked past this very jewelry store. I had paused for half a minute, admiring a delicate gold pendant in the window display. Liam had looked at me with a heavy, guilt-ridden expression. "Audrey, I’m so sorry. I’m useless. I can't afford things like this for you right now." He had squeezed my hand, his voice thick with emotion. "But wait for me. I’ll save up. One day, I’ll buy you something real." Liam was supposedly from a struggling family in a small rust-belt town, surviving on university financial aid. I knew how hard things were for him. So, I had gently pulled him away from the glass. "It’s just gold. Who cares?" I had led him down the street to a cheap convenience store, pointing to a rack of plastic hair clips. "This is perfect. Buy me this instead." A hair clip was five dollars. It was something he could easily afford. I remembered how Liam’s eyes had shimmered with unshed tears. He had leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Audrey, you deserve so much more than this. I’m so lucky to have you." But that same broke, self-sacrificing Liam was now spinning a titanium credit card between his fingers. Beside him, Brooke tried on a succession of thick gold bangles. He offered her a lazy, indulgent smile. "If you can't decide, just take them all." Every necklace she touched was added to the pile. The sales associate smiled warmly as she processed the transaction. "Your total is ninety-eight thousand dollars, sir." Ninety-eight thousand dollars. I stood frozen in the shadow of the display pillar. That was ten times the amount he had once told me he was trying to save for our eventual wedding. 2 By the time I finished my shift and walked back to our cramped, rented apartment, Liam was already there. He was waiting for me in the small entryway. "Audrey, close your eyes and hold out your hand," he whispered. A thin red thread fell into my palm. Threaded through the center was a tiny, gold-plated bead, no larger than a grain of rice. "I couldn't get you a real bracelet, so I hope this holds you over," he said, his voice soft and earnest. "Don't let the size fool you—it cost me half of my grocery budget for the month. But as long as you like it, it’s worth every penny." The warm, cheap light of the hallway lamp fell over his face, softening his handsome features. He looked so incredibly sincere. If this had been yesterday, my heart would have ached with appreciation and guilt. I would have hugged him tightly, telling him he shouldn't have spent the money. But now, I only stared at the little red thread with a hollow, dead sensation. I knew exactly what it was. It was a complimentary gift—the cheap freebie the jewelry boutique gave out to customers who spent over fifty thousand dollars. I raised my hand and slowly slid the thread off my wrist. Liam blinked, his gentle smile faltering slightly. "What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed to take it?" He tried to laugh it off, pulling me closer. "Hey, aren't you working extra shifts to buy me that suit? Gifts are supposed to go both ways." Before we started working, Liam had mentioned he had never owned a proper suit. I wanted to get him a custom-tailored one for his upcoming birthday. It cost thousands of dollars—money I didn't have—which was why I had taken the grueling retail job. As he spoke, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. An instant later, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent was overwhelmed by a sharp, heavy note of chypre perfume. Brooke’s signature scent. It was the fragrance that had haunted me throughout my sophomore year of high school. Just catching a whiff of it made my stomach violently churn. I jerked my head away, avoiding his lips as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. Liam froze for a fraction of a second. Then, he raised his hand to sniff his own collar, his expression smooth and untroubled. "Ah, someone in the crowded elevator must have been wearing some heavy perfume. It probably rubbed off on me. I’ll go take a shower." He grabbed his fifteen-dollar Target sweatpants and disappeared into the bathroom. I walked silently into the small study and booted up my laptop. I hadn't confronted him at the mall because I wanted to understand. I needed to see the full scope of the lie. 3 The computer was mine, but I rarely used it, so Liam had been using it for his schoolwork. His messaging app was still logged in. A new notification popped up from a contact saved simply as "Little Sis." “Liam, thanks for the gold jewelry today! I absolutely love it.” “And remember, you’re just playing a part with Audrey. It’s a game.” “Do not dare to actually fall for her! Don't forget how she used to treat me in school.” I knew the person on the other end was Brooke. But had I ever actually bullied her? During our sophomore year, I had stumbled upon someone hurting a stray cat in the alley behind the school. The poor creature was crying out in agony, a sound like a weeping infant. I had turned my phone’s flashlight toward the noise. Brooke had jumped, dropping a small pocket knife. She had quickly tried to laugh it off, explaining she wanted to go to pre-med and was just "practicing dissection." In the corner of the alley, a pregnant stray was trapped in a wire cage. I had insisted on freeing the animals, but she had blocked my way. The commotion had drawn the attention of a nearby teacher and several students. The incident was exposed, sparking massive outrage across the school. But Brooke’s family was incredibly wealthy; they made a few phone calls, paid a hefty donation, and the school quietly buried the scandal. People eventually forgot. But Brooke never did. She and her friends began leaving dead mice in my locker. They put thumbtacks on my chair, threw my textbooks into the toilets, and followed me like ghosts. It only ended when my foster family relocated, and I transferred to a different school district. Another ping broke the silence. “Honestly, that 'knight in shining armor' stunt I planned for you worked perfectly, didn't it?” “Is that idiot Audrey completely obsessed with you now?” My breath hitched. My first meeting with Liam had indeed been a rescue. During our junior year of college, Brooke had come to our campus as a visiting student. By some cruel twist of fate, we were assigned to the same community outreach project in a remote, rural town. While we were out collecting environmental data in the woods, my backpack—containing my phone and map—was stolen. I got separated from the group. As dusk began to fall, a few local men started following me, whispering and whistling. Just as panic was setting in, Liam had suddenly appeared from the trees. He got into a brutal physical altercation with them, giving me enough time to run. We escaped, but his leg was badly injured in the scuff. I had rushed him to the local clinic, where the doctor diagnosed him with a severe meniscus and ligament tear—a permanent, irreversible injury. Even when he was told he would always walk with a slight limp, Liam had looked up at me from his hospital bed, his eyes warm and comforting. "Audrey, don't blame yourself. This has nothing to do with you. I’d do it again in a heartbeat." The sheer, overwhelming guilt and gratitude of that moment was what made me fall for him. Because he had permanently injured himself to save me, I had resolved that no matter what happened, I would always protect him. He had earned a permanent pass in my life. But the words on the screen kept scrolling. “She still has no idea that your leg was never actually injured, does she?” “It’s hilarious. That private clinic is literally owned by your family’s foundation. You could have ordered any medical report you wanted.” The room seemed to spin. Even his permanent injury—the ultimate proof of his love—was nothing but a fabricated lie. 4 Liam walked into the study after his shower, his hair still damp. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stood up, stepping out of his reach. "Audrey, what is it?" his voice softened, adopting that familiar, pleading tone. "It’s raining tonight. My leg is starting to ache again. Can we just hold each other and go to sleep?" In the past, the moment he mentioned his leg, any anger or stubbornness I held would instantly melt away. But tonight, I remained silent. He let out a small, hurt sigh. "Why are you acting like this? Are you still upset about the gold bracelet? Is it because the bead is too small? Do you think I’m too poor to give you what you want?" It was almost comical. The heir to one of the largest shipping empires on the East Coast was standing in my cheap apartment, lecturing me about being materialistic. I walked past him into the bedroom and closed the door. "I have a long day tomorrow. I need to sleep." The department chair had been reviewing candidates for a prestigious study abroad fellowship in London. I had been working toward it for two years. The final recommendation list was supposed to be posted tomorrow morning. My GPA was perfect, and my community service hours were the highest in the department. I knew I was the top candidate. The next morning, my academic advisor called me into her office. She looked pale, holding a document in her hand. "Audrey, the university committee put you forward as our primary recommendation," she began, her voice tight and hesitant. "But... this fellowship is fully funded by Brighton Holdings. The final decision rests entirely with their board." I nodded, waiting. She sighed, refusing to meet my eyes. "They rejected our recommendation. They claimed you have... 'questionable moral character.' I’m so sorry, Audrey. The fellowship is going to someone else." I stood there, completely numb. Questionable moral character? Based on what? My advisor couldn't give me an answer. She only patted my shoulder and muttered some empty platitude about how the corporate world has its own harsh rules. But Brooke was more than happy to give me the answer. As I walked out of the social sciences building, she was leaning against the courtyard railing, swirling an iced latte and looking at me with a triumphant smirk. "Surprised about the fellowship?" she cooed. "Don't look at me like that. You brought this on yourself when you decided to stick your nose in my business years ago. My brother happens to be close friends with the CEO of Brighton Holdings. A quick text was all it took to cross your name off the list." With a single, casual text, she had demolished two years of my hard work. At that moment, Liam walked up to meet me after class. His eyes met Brooke's for a fraction of a second. It was a cold, calculated look of mutual recognition, but they instantly masked it, acting like complete strangers. Liam turned to me, his brow furrowing with gentle concern. "Audrey, you look incredibly pale. What happened?" He reached into his pocket and produced a cheap pink plastic hair clip. "Look, I got paid for my tutoring shift today. I saw this and thought of you. Does this make you feel any better?" The cheap plastic clip caught the afternoon sun, looking utterly pathetic. Compared to the diamonds and designer clothes Brooke was wearing, it was an insult. I stared at Liam, my voice quiet. "Do you really want me to be happy?" He nodded without a second thought. "Of course I do." Without another word, I turned and caught up to Brooke before she could walk away. Before she could even register my presence, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. The crack echoed through the courtyard. Brooke stumbled back, clutching her reddening cheek in sheer shock. "Audrey! Are you out of your mind?!" I grabbed her by the wrist, keeping her pinned, and looked back at Liam. "Liam, she’s the one who’s been ruining my life. If you want me to be happy, do something about it." Liam stood frozen. In all the time he had known me, I had never once raised my hand against anyone. He stared at Brooke’s swollen cheek, his eyes flickering with an incredibly complex web of panic and annoyance. Finally, he stepped forward, his voice low and tight. "Audrey, let her go. This is getting out of hand. Violence isn't going to solve anything." He didn't ask what she had done to me. He didn't ask why I was hurt. He simply took the high road, hiding behind a shield of moral superiority. When I didn't let go, I raised my other hand and slapped Brooke again. Tears welled in Brooke's eyes as she looked at Liam, silently pleading for him to intervene. Liam’s patience finally snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrists with force. "Audrey! Stop acting like a crazy person! No matter what happened, you’re classmates. Can't you talk like civilized adults?" In his haste to protect Brooke, the plastic hair clip slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the asphalt. A student riding a bicycle zipped past, and the tire rolled directly over the cheap plastic, crushing it into sharp, useless shards. My mind flashed back to that rainy evening outside the convenience store. Under the dim yellow streetlights, he had carefully tucked a similar clip behind my ear, his eyes full of nothing but me. I had held his hand, believing we were building a future out of nothing. A cold wind swept the plastic shards across the concrete. My chest construct contracted, a sharp, physical ache blooming behind my ribs. After all, I had loved him. Even when you find out it’s a lie, the extraction of that love still tears at your skin. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an unknown number. Over the last few days, I had been getting persistent spam calls. The scammers were getting increasingly ridiculous, claiming I was the long-lost daughter of some prominent East Coast family. I cut the call off immediately. I looked up, meeting Liam’s eyes, and finally said the words I had been practicing all night. "Liam, we’re done. Don't ever contact me again." 5 That evening, as I worked my shift at the luxury boutique, my phone buzzed continuously. “Audrey, stop being dramatic.” “There were too many people around campus today. I was just worried about your reputation. Getting suspended for fighting isn't worth it.” “Don't use breaking up as a threat to get my attention. It hurts me.” I muted the screen and ignored every single message. By the time my shift ended, the sky had completely ruptured. Torrential rain poured down, accompanied by heavy rolls of thunder. The subways were delayed, and Uber prices had surged to three times the normal rate. My apartment was less than a mile away. I pulled my cheap umbrella open and stepped into the storm. The wind tore at the fabric, turning the umbrella inside out within seconds. I was soaked to the bone in an instant. My phone buzzed again. “Audrey, you must be off work by now, right?” “I wanted to come pick you up, but the damp weather is making my leg injury flare up. It hurts so bad I can barely stand.” “I’m heading to the clinic to get some painkillers. Just go straight home.” I reached the intersection, waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green. Three feet away from me, a sleek black Maybach rolled to a stop at the red light. The passenger window was halfway down. Through the glass, I saw Liam. He was leaning back against the leather seat, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel. Brooke was in the passenger seat beside him. Liam’s brow was furrowed in mild annoyance. "Next time, wear a lighter perfume. Her nose is incredibly sensitive." Brooke glanced at his phone, laughing. "Still not replying to you? All this drama over a tiny argument. It looks like the great Liam Campbell is losing his touch." Liam tapped his index finger against the steering wheel—a habit he only did when he was genuinely agitated. "Don't talk nonsense. Girls just like to be coddled. She’ll come around once I apologize. Audrey loves me too much to actually leave." The soft yellow glow of the dashboard illuminated Brooke’s face as she admired her fresh manicure. "I suppose. If it weren't for me, a charity case like her would never have even breathed the same air as someone of your status. She should be thanking her lucky stars." She sighed, her tone turning bitter. "But she really went too far today. My face is so swollen I had to cancel my dinner with Ethan Vaughn. My dad spent months trying to set up that connection. If the Vaughn family gets insulted, we’re in deep trouble." The light turned green. I stepped off the curb, walking directly past the hood of the Maybach. Liam’s eyes locked onto mine through the rain-streaked windshield. He saw me—completely drenched, my clothes clinging to my skin, my broken umbrella dripping in my hand. I remembered another storm, a year ago. We had been huddled under a single tiny umbrella, and I had whispered, "I wish we had a car. Just a cheap one, so we wouldn't have to freeze like this." He had pulled me closer, shielding me from the wind, and whispered, "We will, Audrey. I promise." He already had one. He just never had any intention of letting me inside. The Maybach’s engine roared, and the luxury sedan sped past, kicking up a massive wave of dirty street water that drenched my legs. I pulled my wet coat tighter around myself, Brooke’s final words echoing in my mind. Vaughn. We shared the same last name, yet how could Ethan Vaughn and I live in such completely different worlds? He was the crown prince of Manhattan’s old money elite, born with a silver spoon, while I had aged out of a state-run foster home. As I stood lost in thought, a sleek black town car pulled up quietly beside the curb. I tried to step back, assuming it was another luxury vehicle about to splash me, but the passenger window slid down smoothly. Ethan Vaughn looked out at me, his dark eyes calm and serious. "Audrey," he said. "Get in. I’ll take you home."
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