Chapter 4

Julian cut me off harshly, his voice snapping like a whip.

"Your parents already look down on me! You want me to beg them for money? And buy a tiny place? That’ll just prove them right!"

"They wouldn't think that—"

"Like hell they wouldn't!" His voice rose, bouncing off the concrete walls. "Did you forget what your dad said? Telling me construction workers are deadbeats, saying I’d amount to nothing in life! If I go buy some cramped, pathetic condo now, wouldn't that just hand him the satisfaction?!"

I looked at him.

The veins on his neck were pulsing with rage.

Yet I knew he didn't actually give a damn about my parents' opinion.

If he truly cared about my parents, or about me, he wouldn't have kept me living in a moldy basement for five years.

Between the two of us, our combined monthly income was over five thousand dollars. We weren't wealthy, but renting a decent, clean apartment for twelve hundred a month would have been effortless.

Yet every single time I suggested moving, he manipulated me: "Let’s rough it out for another year so we can save for our down payment faster."

The chronic eczema I developed from the damp air, the way I shivered violently taking cold showers in the winter—none of it ever broke his heart.

Every single time, it was: "Just endure it," "Wait a bit longer," "Once we get our down payment, life will be perfect"...

Now I finally understood. The down payment he was scraping together wasn't for our house.

It was for Serena’s diamond ring!

I stared at him calmly and asked, "Then what do you propose we do?"

His tone instantly softened. "Chloe, just give me one more year. Next year, I promise—"

"Next year and then another next year," I interrupted. "Every single year you say that. I've waited five years, Julian. I’m twenty-seven years old!"

"What's wrong with twenty-seven? You're still young!"

Julian shrugged casually. "People marry late these days. Look at Serena, she isn't married either..."

"Does Serena not getting married mean I can't get married either?!" I raised my voice.

Julian froze, his expression stiffening.

"Chloe, what is your deal tonight? Can't we just have a normal birthday without you picking fights?"

"I'm done waiting, Julian."

"What does that mean?"

I sucked in a deep breath, fighting back the stinging tears in my eyes.

"I went over my accounts. For the past five years, every single paycheck minus my three hundred dollars for living expenses, along with every single year-end bonus, was transferred straight to your bank account. It totals thirty-eight thousand dollars. Give it back to me."

"I'm not waiting on your down payment anymore. We're through."

Julian stared at me in absolute disbelief, stunned that I was the one pulling the trigger.

"Chloe, you're being..."

Before he could finish, Bruno Mars's *Marry You* suddenly blasted from his pocket.

Julian pulled out his phone instantly and darted out the door into the hallway to answer.

That wasn't his standard ringtone.

It was a custom ringtone for one specific contact.

Serena. No question about it.

The soundproofing in the basement was practically nonexistent.

Even through the thin door, I could clearly hear the gentle, tender cadence of his voice.

"Don't panic. I'm coming over right now."

He hung up, walked back inside, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and headed for the door.

"There's an emergency at the construction site. I have to go."

"Whatever you just said, I'll pretend I didn't hear it. Get some sleep and cool off!"

He genuinely thought I was throwing a harmless tantrum.

I stepped in his way. "If you walk out that door right now, we are done forever."

Julian didn't even spare me a glance. Tossing back an indifferent "We’ll talk when I get back," he slammed the door behind him.