Chapter 3

Veins bulged violently along Ethan's father's neck. "Watch your mouth! What fraud?"

"Financial fraud," my dad stated, his expression as unyielding as a judge's.

Panicking, Ethan threw himself between the two families. "Mr. and Mrs. Foster, please, it doesn't have to go this far! Natalie and I just need to talk, this is between us—"

"There's nothing left to talk about."

I ripped the veil from my hair and shoved it into his chest.

"Weren't you dying to fulfill your childhood promise to her? Go right ahead. I'm doing you a favor."

Ethan's mother frantically tugged his sleeve from behind.

"Fine, fine! Forget the twenty grand! We won't ask for a single penny back! Let's just drop it!"

My mom gave a furious laugh. "You think you get to decide that?"

"If you don't return our money, we're calling the police."

Seeing that we weren't bluffing, Ethan's father's tone softened considerably.

"No need for the cops, let's talk this out! We never said we wouldn't pay you back."

"Then write an IOU. Right here, right now."

My dad was never one for empty talk.

He snatched a pen from a stunned groomsman, grabbed a sign-in card from the guest reception desk, and slammed it onto the table.

"Write it."

Ethan's father's face turned an ugly shade of green.

Ethan stepped up to the table and picked up the pen. His hand was trembling so hard the ink jittered across the card as he scrawled the debt agreement.

His father looked ready to burst a vein and moved to stop him, but Ethan shoved him away.

When he finished, he looked up at me, pleading.

"Natalie, I wrote it. Can you please just—"

"I didn't promise you anything."

I turned on my heel and walked away.

I marched right out the front doors of the hotel, leaving the entire steaming wreckage behind me.

My mom patted my back, her hands shaking violently.

"Come on, sweetie, let's get some food first. You haven't had a single bite since this morning."

We crossed the street to a quiet diner opposite the venue.

My mom ordered three bowls of chicken porridge and a plate of dumplings.

My dad didn't touch his fork the entire time. He just sat there, watching me.

Only after I set my spoon down did he speak.

"Once we finish, we go to the apartment. We get your things out first."

Walking out of the diner, having only managed half a bowl, my parents' expressions were still grim.

My mom dabbed her mouth with a napkin, tears welling up again as she wiped.

My dad pushed the bowl toward her. "Eat up. You need your strength to move her stuff."

I put my spoon down and looked at them.

"Mom, Dad... I'm so sorry. I humiliated you both today."

"Humiliated us?"

My dad set his fork down with a sharp clatter. "You're not the one who owes an apology. That pathetic Reed family is."

My mom wiped her tears and forced a smile. "He's right. You did the right thing. If you had swallowed your pride in front of all those people, they would've walked all over you for the rest of your life."

I didn't say another word. I finished the last few bites of porridge and paid the check.

The apartment was in an upscale new development across town. Ethan's parents had put up the down payment.

The deed was under his name, but my family had split the renovation and high-end furniture fifty-fifty.

My clothes, makeup, important documents, and an heirloom gold jewelry set given to me by my mother were all inside.

I had to get those back.

We hailed a cab and headed over.

The entire ride, my mom kept fretting about the jewelry set, telling me how it had been passed down from her grandmother to her, and then to me. If it got lost, she’d never forgive herself.

My dad sat in the passenger seat, not uttering a word, though his knuckles were white around his phone.

In the elevator, my mom tried to steady her breathing, saying we shouldn't waste our breath arguing with them; we’d just grab my things and leave.

I nodded.

When we reached the door, I pressed my thumb against the smart lock.

Nothing happened.

I pressed it again.

Still nothing.

A red light flashed on the keypad, buzzing twice in error.

I frowned and punched in the passcode.

My birthday.

Incorrect.

Ethan's birthday.

Incorrect.

Our anniversary.

Still incorrect.

Frowning, my dad pulled out his phone and dialed Ethan.

It rang twice and clicked off. Disconnected.

He dialed again. Straight to voicemail.

Panic rising, my mom pounded furiously on the door.

"Ethan! Ethan Reed, open this door right now!"

Shuffling came from the other side.

Someone was walking inside, the slap of slippers against the hardwood floor getting closer and closer.

The door clicked open.

It wasn't Ethan. It was his mother.

She was already lounging in comfortable loungewear.

Seeing us, she didn't look surprised at all.

In fact, she wore a faint, smug smirk, as if she had been waiting for us.

"Oh, look who decided to drop by."

My mom pushed forward. "My daughter's belongings are inside. Let us in to get them."

Ethan's mother didn't move. Instead, she pulled the door tighter, blocking the entrance with her body.

"Get what belongings?"