You Chose Your Mistress, I Chose Goodbye

Jimmy was supposed to marry me. But the day after I supposedly "hurt" his adored step-sister Mirasol, he tossed a ledger in front of me like I was garbage. "Pick it up. Read it." Inside were line items for everything he'd ever bought me—clothes, gifts, every moment I'd mistaken for affection—all reduced to a price tag. "You owe me 52 million. One month to pay." That's when it hit me: I was never really his fiancée. I was just a stand-in for the person he actually loved—his step-sister.