Chapter 1

After our fiftieth cold war, I got petty and listed every luxury gift Violet Fox had given me over the years on an online resale marketplace.

The guy who came to appraise them studied the pile for a long moment, then couldn't help laughing.

"Man, it's Balenciaga, not Balingsiaga. It's Versace, not Versachi. And this one, it's Gucci, not Guchee..."

I stared blankly at those clumsy, ridiculous knockoff spellings. Because I'd trusted her, for eight whole years I'd never once looked closely.

He gave me a pitying glance.

"These don't even make the bottom rung of a decent fake. For all ten boxes, three hundred, tops."

I clutched those three crumpled hundred-dollar bills and went to find Violet Fox.

Inside the private room, she was casually opening a bottle of red wine.

"This Romanée-Conti, five point two million. To celebrate your promotion."

Grant Harding spoke up with a grin. "Ms. Fox, that's way too extravagant!"

"You're worth it."

One of the women beside her spotted me and raised her voice on purpose.

"Violet, seriously, it's been eight years. You've really never thought about marrying Max Barnes?"

Violet Fox swirled the wine in her glass and gave a small smile.

"Marry him? A fool who can't even tell real from fake, and he's fit to be a Fox?"

"It was only ever a game. Did someone actually take it seriously?"

Eight years of trust and waiting collapsed into rubble at those three words, only ever a game.

It hit me all at once. She had never loved me.

...

Someone in the room let out a whistle.

"Well, look who's here. Max."

Violet Fox lifted her eyelids and spoke, flat and indifferent.

"Here already? And here I thought you had a backbone."

"How long did this cold war last? Forty-eight hours? Max, you set a new record."

Someone egged it on. "Violet, look at that face on him. He's obviously missing you like crazy."

"No kidding. Fight or no fight, when does Max ever not cave first?"

I clenched my fist, took a step forward, and slapped the three hundred dollars down on the table.

"Eight years of gifts. Three hundred dollars, all told."

"How did I not know the great Miss Fox had fallen on such hard times?"

Grant Harding cut in, all smiles.

"Max, Violet cracks open a bottle for me on a whim and it's five million. You're her boyfriend. If you're short on cash, just say the word, that's all it takes."

Violet Fox glanced down at the three hundred dollars and tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Max, you're funny."

"A fight that ends with you selling stuff off. Don't tell me this time you actually mean to cut ties with me?"

A few of the women beside her broke into laughter.

"Max, we clocked those watches of yours as fakes ages ago. Every time you wore one out, the rest of us had to look down and pretend to check our phones so we wouldn't laugh."

"Eight years. We had a private bet going on when you'd finally figure it out. Some said three months, some said a year, the longest bet on three years. And you held out a full eight. Not a single one of us won."

Grant Harding reached over and tugged at my sleeve.

"Don't be mad, Max. Sit down, have a drink, cool off."

He added with a smile.

"Though since all your luxury stuff is fake, maybe you've got to drink fake wine to match?"

The room burst into laughter.

Violet Fox took a slow sip of her wine and said nothing.

I finally steadied my breathing, fixed my eyes on hers, and spoke one word at a time.

"Violet, you gave me fakes. Was it because you don't know the difference, or because you didn't think I deserved the real thing?"

A flicker of impatience finally showed in her eyes.

"The wine I order on a whim runs five million. You think I, Violet Fox, can't afford the genuine article?"

It struck me as funny, so funny it turned bitter at the back of my throat.

Those clumsy knockoffs, that offhand tone of hers, were the answer in themselves.

What more was there for me to humiliate myself over?

"What?" She raised her eyes to me.

"You can't even tell real from fake, and now you turn around and interrogate me?"

I looked at the face that once made me lose myself, and all that was left in it now was a cold, thin mockery.

"So." I gritted my teeth, spacing each word. "You did it on purpose."

"So from the very start, you never once planned to marry me."

Violet Fox idly pinched the three hundred dollars between her fingers, then let go.

The pink bills drifted down to the floor.

She stood, and her wine-heavy breath fanned across my face.

Once it made my heart race. Now it only made me sick.

"What else?"

She reached out and patted my cheek.

"Max, are you fit to use the real thing?"

"A useless man I've kept and spoiled, who can't even tell real from fake, is he fit to stand at my side?"

I tipped my head back and forced the tears welling in my eyes to stay put.

"I'm not fit."

"So this spot beside a Fox, I won't ask for it again."

"Save it for whoever you think is fit."

I turned around and walked out.

The summer downpour hammered the ground and threw up a white haze of mist.

I had no umbrella, and I didn't look back.