Chapter 3

My brain short-circuited.

Was this guy genuinely insane?

"Austin, how old are you? Sitting on the floor like a toddler? What happens when my neighbors see you?"

"I don't care," he said, jutting his chin out. "I want you to see my determination."

I took a deep breath, stepped backward, and slammed the door shut.

Looking through the peephole, he was still sitting there. He even pulled out his phone and started scrolling TikTok, occasionally glancing up at my door.

I stood there for two solid minutes. Seeing that he had zero intention of leaving, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

Ten minutes later, two police officers arrived.

Seeing the uniforms, Austin scrambled to his feet, putting on an innocent, victimized expression.

"Officers, I was just trying to talk to my girlfriend. She locked me out and wouldn't listen, so I had no choice."

The officers glanced between him and me. "What's the relationship here?"

"Ex-boyfriend," I stated firmly.

"She's my girlfriend," he blurted at the same time.

The officer frowned. "Which is it?"

"We broke up today," I said. "He refused to leave my doorstep, and he's trespassing. I want him off the property."

The officer turned to Austin. "Sir, she said it's over. You can't loiter here. Head on home."

Austin parted his lips, wanting to argue, but the stern look on the officer's face intimidated him. He turned and stormed toward the stairs, furious.

Before stepping into the stairwell, he threw a glare back at me—a cold, resentful glare that sent a chill down my spine.

I thanked the officers, locked the deadbolt, and latched the safety chain.

After all that chaos, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

I couldn't stop wondering how on earth I had gotten involved with someone like this.

At first, he seemed passionate, attentive, considerate. Looking back, were all those favors just tactics of control?

He acts lavishly generous while chasing you, making you believe he's the ultimate gentleman.

The second you accept him, the ledger opens, charging you down to the drop of gas used to bring you home.

This wasn't a romance; it was a transaction.

I let out a heavy sigh, reminding myself that I had work in the morning, and forced my eyes shut.

At seven the next morning, my alarm went off.

I got dressed, grabbed my purse, and headed out.

The elevator doors opened to the lobby, and I froze.

Austin was standing right by the glass exit doors, holding a paper bag and a cup of Starbucks.

The moment he saw me, a broad, practiced smile spread across his face.

"Morning, Chloe! I brought you breakfast—bacon and egg bagel and an iced latte, just how you like it."

He thrust the bag toward me, acting as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn't thrown a tantrum on my floor the night before.

I didn't reach for it.

"No, thank you."

"Come on," he insisted, shoving the bag into my hands. "You get an upset stomach if you skip breakfast, I know that. Look, I made sure they used oat milk, just like you prefer."

"Austin, I don't want anything from you."

"Why not? You used to take my treats all the time!"

"That was then, this is now." I pushed the bag back. "Back then, I thought you were a friend. Now, you're a stranger. Why would I accept anything from you?"

His smile cracked, but he quickly forced it back on.

"Don't talk like that. We only spent one night apart; the feelings are still there. Eat breakfast first, and we can talk things through calmly."

"There's nothing to talk through. I made that clear last night."

"So you're really not going to eat it?"

His tone shifted instantly. His hand holding the bag dropped to his side.

"I went out of my way to buy you breakfast, and you won't even look at it? Do you have any idea when I woke up? Six a.m.! I drove three miles just to hit that specific bakery, and this is how you treat me?"