Chapter 3

Back in the bedroom, I picked up my phone and saw that he had posted on Instagram half an hour ago.

"Some people... you treat them with nothing but love, and they turn around and bite you."

The photo was a depressing shot of an empty dining table with a single used fork and plate.

The comments were already rolling in.

His bro, Kyle, asked: "Bro, what happened?"

Ethan replied: "I fed a snake."

Kyle replied instantly: "What the fuck? Your girl is that much of a bitch?"

Ethan replied again: "Whatever. Just taking it as a lesson learned. Spent a year feeding a stray dog."

I stared at the comments, my finger hovering over the screen.

In the end, I didn't reply, nor did I explain.

If he wanted to play the tragic hero, let him. The truth has a way of coming out eventually.

But what I didn't expect was a phone call from my mom early the next morning.

"Chloe, what's going on between you and Ethan?" My mom’s voice was filled with anxiety.

"His mother just called me. She said you kicked him out! She said he worked himself to the bone to support you for a year, and you scammed him out of all his money!"

I gripped my phone, stunned for a second.

His mother called my mom?

"Mom, don't listen to her lies," I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

"I bought the condo myself. He only gave me $500 a month, which doesn't even cover rent. Him, supporting me? With what money?"

There was a long silence on the other end.

"What did you say?" My mom’s voice changed. "Didn't you say you were renting? When did you buy a condo?"

I froze.

I hadn't told my mom about buying the place.

It wasn't that I wanted to keep it a secret; I just hadn't found the right time.

My parents lived in another state. I didn't want them to worry about my finances, so I had lied and told them I was renting.

Out of the $150,000 down payment, $100,000 was my own savings, and $50,000 was a secret gift from my dad, who had warned me not to let my mom know.

And now, everything was a mess.

"Mom, I'll explain everything later," I said, rubbing my temples. "Just ignore his mother for now. I'll handle Ethan myself."

"Chloe, tell me the truth," my mom’s voice dropped, sounding incredibly fragile. "Have you been suffering out there all by yourself?"

I opened my mouth to say no, but the words got stuck in my throat.

My mom started tearing up. "I knew we shouldn't have let you move out of state with him. I knew that boy wasn't reliable, and his mother is a piece of work. You, all alone out there..."

"Mom, I'm fine," I interrupted gently. "I'm really okay."

After hanging up, I sat on the edge of the bed in a daze.

Then my phone buzzed again. This time it was Kyle, his tone incredibly aggressive:

"Can you be any more heartless? You know how much Ethan did for that home. He worked his ass off every day to make money, and you just dump him the moment you get a condo? Are you even human?!"

I didn't reply. I just blocked his number.

Then came Olivia, our mutual friend. She sent a barrage of voice messages on Snapchat:

"Chloe, please calm down. Ethan can be a jerk sometimes, but he truly loves you. Look at how hard he worked this past year, staying late at the office and networking on weekends. Don't throw away a relationship over a petty fight..."

I didn't bother listening to the rest.

True love?

He stayed late because he couldn't finish his work, and his "networking" was just drinking and playing video games with his bros. His "hard work" was nothing but a performance.

I opened Instagram and saw that Ethan had updated his feed again.

It was a close-up photo of the calluses on his hand. The caption read:

"A year of hard work left calluses on my hands, and scars on my heart."

The comments were nauseating:

"Stay strong, brother."

"You're better off without a gold-digger like her."

"Let her rot. You deserve so much better."