Ryan's mother offered me ten million dollars to leave her son. I thought our love was unshakable, so I planned to tell him about it as a joke. But later that night, after we’d made love, I answered his ringing phone by mistake. A woman's bright, cheerful voice came through. "Ryan, darling, should the wedding invitations be gold-leaf or classic ivory?" I felt like I'd been plunged into an ice bath. Ryan Wood was getting married. So what did that make me? On his wedding day, I boxed up every memory of our life together and mailed it to him before boarding a flight to another country. Two years later, he used every trick in the book to lure me back, all so I would watch a fireworks display with him. On the old city wall, with cherry blossoms falling like rain around us, he looked at me with bloodshot eyes and asked, "When we were nineteen, you said that people who watch fireworks together are meant to be together forever. Does that still count?" 1. After our lovemaking, Ryan stepped into the shower. I lay in bed, calling to him through the frosted glass door. "Ryan, your mother came to see me today." His voice was muffled by the sound of the water. "What did you say?" Just then, his phone on the nightstand started buzzing insistently. Wincing from the pleasant ache in my lower back, I rolled over and answered it. A woman's bright voice chirped on the other end. "Ryan, darling, should the wedding invitations be gold-leaf or classic ivory?" The world froze. So, his mother had been telling the truth. Ryan was getting married. And I was… what? His secret? When Ryan emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips, I was still holding the phone, motionless. He nuzzled my neck, his voice a low murmur. "What's wrong?" I pushed him away, my own voice unnervingly calm. "Your fiancée wants to know if you prefer gold-leaf or classic ivory for the invitations." He didn't hesitate. The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on a tailored suit, his movements sharp and urgent. He was out the door in less than a minute. That night, I showered until my skin was raw, scrubbing away his touch. I waited until dawn, but he never called. I met Ryan in high school. He was the golden boy, the heir to a corporate empire, worshipped by everyone. The line of girls trying to win his affection could have circled the campus ten times over. His desk overflowed with love letters every single day. I never, in a million years, thought someone like him would notice me. So when he confessed his feelings on graduation day, I couldn't believe it. To prove his sincerity, he followed me to my small hometown. He ate at greasy spoon diners and sat on dusty park benches with me. For two solid months, he told me he loved me every single day, as if afraid I'd forget. Just before college started, I finally said yes. We were inseparable for four years, a blur of stolen kisses and late-night study sessions. After graduation, he took over his family's company, and I became an English teacher at the city's most prestigious private high school. It was only later that I learned the school's primary investor was one of Ryan's closest friends. My entire life, I realized, was interwoven with his. And now, one phone call from another woman, and he was gone. He’d left like his hair was on fire, terrified of hurting his precious fiancée's feelings for even a second. He hadn't even had the decency to tell me he had one. He had been lying to me, year after year. When I saw him again, he acted as if nothing had happened, waiting for me after work. "Clara, I'm coming over tonight." Smack. The sharp sound of my hand connecting with his cheek echoed in the quiet parking garage. He lunged forward, pressing me against the cold metal of my car. His beautiful, expressive eyes traced a line from my collarbone downwards. "You're the one who takes your own clothes off," he murmured, his meaning clear. I shoved him away. I raised my hand to strike him again, but he caught my wrist mid-air. "Clara, are you done making a scene?" Was I done? This man, who had once treated me like a goddess, was now asking if I was done, all for another woman. Our eight years together—had it all been in my head? In his eyes, was I nothing more than a dirty little secret, a mistress to be kept in the shadows? I bit my lip until I tasted blood, then spat at him. "You're disgusting, Ryan." He held onto me, his voice softening. "I don't want to hurt you. If you're willing, we can go on just like we were before." Like before? As his secret lover? He continued, his voice a persuasive caress. "Clara, you have to be realistic. A man of my standing needs to marry someone of equal status. Victoria's family and mine have been allies for generations. She's running a subsidiary of her family's corporation. Marrying her is the most logical arrangement." "And me?" I asked, my voice breaking. "What about me? What was I?" 2. He let out a soft, condescending laugh. "Clara, I thought I was being perfectly clear. For an English teacher, your reading comprehension is surprisingly poor." He gestured dismissively. "It's not just your family background. You're a schoolteacher. You don't understand the world I live in. How could you possibly stand beside me?" The absurdity of it all was suffocating. I swung my hand and slapped him again, catching him off guard. He retaliated by shoving me into the car. "Are you insane?" I grabbed his wrist and bit down, hard. He didn't flinch, letting me bite until the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. Only then did I let go. "You're a bastard, Ryan," I panted. "You were the one who said you loved me for being simple and pure. Now you're saying I'm not sophisticated enough to be by your side. You always have to have it both ways, don't you?" He said nothing, simply got into the driver's seat. I was too exhausted to fight anymore. I let him drive me wherever he wanted. Thirty minutes later, we pulled up outside my apartment building. Before I got out, he handed me two invitation samples. "So," he asked, his voice casual, "do you think the gold-leaf looks better, or the classic ivory?" His words were razors, carving up my heart until I couldn't breathe. I snatched the invitations from his hand and threw them back in his face. The sharp edge of the cardstock grazed his cheek, leaving a thin red line. A crushing weight settled on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I walked away without looking back. Ryan always knew exactly how to hurt me the most. I never imagined that the person I loved more than anyone in the world would be the one to cause me the most pain. The next day, Victoria found me at school. She was stunning, just as bright and captivating as her voice. "Leave the city. And leave Ryan," she said, wasting no time. "Do you love him?" I asked. She scoffed. "This is a merger, not a romance. All that matters is maximizing our families' profits. If his name were David or Michael, it wouldn't make a difference. I've known about you for a while. So what? Ryan is only ever going to marry me. All I want is the title of Mrs. Wood." She looked me up and down. "But I've been the center of attention my whole life. If he wants to marry me, he needs to cut ties with his… indiscretions. So, you have to go." I started to laugh. Laughing at my own stupidity, and at Ryan's. "Miss Hayes," I said, my voice steady, "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't have anything more to do with Ryan. I know the difference between right and wrong. I'm not the type to knowingly be with a taken man." "You—" She knew I was calling her out, and she couldn't deny it. Her hand flew up as if to strike me, but she let it drop. "Damn it, Ryan," she muttered under her breath. Since she couldn't intimidate me, Victoria found another way to force me out. If I had known how dirty she was willing to play, I would have left without a second thought. The headline "Local Teacher in Scandal with Business Tycoon" went viral. Photos of Ryan and me, tangled together on my sofa, were all over the internet. His face was artfully blurred, but mine was on full display for the world to see. My principal, Ethan, called me into his office. "I know that man is Ryan," he said quietly, "but the scandal is too big. The school board has decided to terminate your employment." And just like that, branded with a crime I didn't commit, I was despised by my students, condemned by their parents, and jobless. 3. When I got home, I found that someone had thrown a bucket of chicken blood against my front door. I unlocked it to find my mother waiting for me on the sofa. Before I could even turn around, a cup flew through the air and shattered on the floor by my head. It was the one Ryan had bought me last year. "You have the nerve to come back here?" she shrieked. "You should have just died out there! Do you have any idea what your aunts are saying about me? They're all saying I can't raise a daughter right! Your father was stolen by a homewrecker. I've spent my whole life hating women like that, and now my own daughter has become one!" Her voice dripped with venom. "You're just as cheap as your father, sneaking around. Does it feel better in secret?" "Mom, no, it's not like that," I sobbed. "He framed me—" She slapped me across the face. "He framed you? Look at yourself in the mirror. What do you have that's worth framing?" She pulled a fruit knife from somewhere and held it to her own throat. "Record a video. Right now. Send it to the family group chat and tell them you're no longer my daughter. If you don't, I'll die right here." I did as she asked. My mother, satisfied, added her own message to the group chat: "From this day on, Clara is no longer my daughter. Whatever she does has nothing to do with me. If you want to blame someone, blame her deadbeat dad." She turned to me, her eyes cold. "We may have cut ties, but you still owe me for raising you. For the sake of our twenty-seven years together, you can pay me a lump sum." I gave her my entire life's savings. As she was leaving, she saw a childhood photo of us on the table and smashed it to the floor. "The thought of being in the same picture as you makes me sick," she hissed. "The thought that a slut like you came from my body makes me want to vomit." Then she was gone, and the nightmare was over. I slid down the wall, my legs numb. I don't know how long I sat there. The phone rang over and over. I finally answered it, annoyed. It was Ryan. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone casual. "Don't be so dramatic. In a few days, everyone will forget about it." His fiancée had maliciously destroyed my life, and he called me dramatic. "Go to hell, you son of a bitch," I seethed, and hung up. I picked up my phone and started posting. I uploaded our old chat logs, our photos, pictures of every gift he'd ever given me. "I am the woman from the scandal," I wrote. "But I am not a homewrecker. I think Mr. Ryan Wood and Ms. Victoria Hayes know who is. The moment I learned of their wedding, my world fell apart. I suddenly realized that in Mr. Wood's eyes, our eight years of love was nothing more than a casual affair. He could have broken up with me when he decided to marry Ms. Hayes, but he didn't. He wanted both a docile mistress and a powerful wife. He tried to have it all. When I refused to play along, he and Ms. Hayes fabricated lies to force me out, with him willingly playing the part of a wronged man. How generous of him." The post blew up. Though the Wood and Hayes families tried to suppress it, their business rivals made sure it stayed at the top of every newsfeed. It was too late. 4. The Wood Corporation's stock plummeted. Ryan and Victoria were too busy with damage control to bother me. For a few days, I had peace. But I knew it wouldn't last. A message from Ryan appeared on my screen. It was a picture of my mother, using the money I'd given her to play mahjong with a group of women on the street. "Clara, you're a smart girl," his message read. "Your little outburst has cost my family a fortune. You know what you have to do." My mother and I had only ever had each other. She was obsessed with her reputation. After my father left, she would take out her humiliation on me whenever someone gossiped about her. Now, I had become the very thing she hated most. I couldn't blame her for wanting to distance herself. But I still couldn't let him hurt her. I had to give in. I started a live stream, and a million people flooded in instantly. A text from Ryan came through: "You know what to say and what not to say." I typed back one word: "Fuck off." The comment section was a war zone. Some people defended me, others championed Ryan and Victoria. "What do you expect from these billionaires? It's not the first time they've played with someone's heart." "Stay strong, girl! We believe you!" "Her? The Wood family could have anyone. Why would they need to deceive her? She's probably just a gold digger." "If I were Ryan, I'd choose Victoria too. He's rich, not blind." "Hey honey, forget the rich guys. They're trouble. Come with me instead." … With the world watching, I began. "I'm here today to apologize. I lied to all of you." The comments filled with question marks. "Mr. Wood and I did have a relationship for several years," I continued, my voice flat. "But that's in the past. Ms. Hayes and Mr. Wood are a perfect match. I was the one who couldn't let go, and that's what caused this whole mess. I am truly sorry to everyone who was hurt by my actions." The mood in the comments shifted instantly. A tidal wave of insults crashed over me. But I had seen so much ugliness already, I was numb to it. The live stream ended abruptly. There was a knock at the door. I curled up on the sofa, not caring who it was. The distinct click of the electronic lock being opened echoed in the silent apartment. A tall figure approached and sat down across from me. I didn't need to look. I knew it was Ryan. "You were very sensible," he said. "The villa on the east side of town—I've put it in your name. Consider it compensation. If you're willing, we can pretend none of this ever happened." He knew exactly how to twist the knife. When I didn't respond, he continued. "After all this, who else would want you?" I rose from the sofa and walked over to him. The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the night. He smirked, touching the spot I’d hit, as if pleased. "You're shameless." He grabbed my wrist, his smile widening. "You've known that from day one." "Get out," I screamed, my voice raw. He picked up his suit jacket and placed a credit card on the table. "There's five million on here. Spend it however you like." Maybe it was the stress of the past few days, but a sudden, tearing pain shot through my abdomen. A warm gush of liquid flowed down my legs. The last thing I did before I lost consciousness was call for an ambulance. This was for the best. This way, Ryan and I were finally, completely done.
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