Chapter 5

The Maybach’s red taillights bled into the stormy night, disappearing completely.

I stood in the flooded gutter, the freezing rain soaking through my rumpled wedding suit.

I crushed the thick, gold-embossed envelope in my fist. The new CEO.

"Claudia!" I roared, spinning around to face her. "Call Paul! Call your family! Fix this right now!"

Claudia was shivering violently. She fumbled with her diamond-encrusted phone. Her fingers were shaking so badly she almost dropped it into the street.

"I'm trying!" she sobbed, pressing the phone to her ear. "Paul isn't answering!"

"Try someone else! Try your trust manager!"

She dialed again.

"Voicemail," she whimpered.

"Call your friends! Call Beatrice! Call anyone with a car!"

She swiped at her screen, her tears mixing with the torrential rain. She dialed number after number.

"Nothing," she choked out, her voice cracking. "They're all going straight to voicemail. Jules, they blocked me."

"Blocked you?" I grabbed her bare shoulders, shaking her. "You're a Kensington! You don't get blocked!"

"I don't know what's happening!" she screamed, pushing me away. "My grandfather must be auditing the estate! Or this new CEO is freezing assets during the transition! It’s a mistake!"

I let her go in disgust. I pulled out my own phone. The screen was cracked from when the hotel guards shoved me, but it still lit up.

I opened my banking app. I needed to see it with my own eyes. I needed to see where my two hundred thousand dollars went.

The red zero mocked me.

Available Balance: $0.00.

"How?" I muttered. "How is this possible?"

I clicked on the transaction history.

My blood ran completely cold.

Transfer to: H. KENSINGTON.

Hannah.

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the account details.

Joint Savings: Jules Montgomery & Hannah Kensington.

"She took it," I whispered, the phone slipping from my numb fingers.

"What?" Claudia sniffled.

"Hannah. She took my money. All of it."

"Hannah?" Claudia scoffed, wiping her running mascara. "How? She's broke!"

"It was a joint account!" I yelled, the realization burning through my veins. "She emptied it! That vindictive, petty bitch emptied my life savings because I left her at the altar!"

"Call a black car," Claudia demanded, crossing her arms against the cold.

"With what money, Claudia?!" I snapped. "Hannah took my cash. Your cards are declined. We don't have a dime!"

"So what do we do?" she cried.

I looked down the dark, rain-swept street. The neon sign of the subway station flickered two blocks away.

"We walk."

"To the subway?" Claudia gasped, horrified. "I am not taking the subway! Look at me!"

She gestured to her ruined, soaking wet designer gown.

"Then sleep in the gutter!" I yelled, turning my back on her.

I started walking. I didn't look back to see if she followed. I heard her wet heels clicking frantically against the pavement a few seconds later.

The subway station smelled like urine and damp concrete. We swiped through the turnstiles using the last few dollars loaded on my old transit card.

We stood on the platform.

A homeless man sleeping on a bench cracked an eye open, muttered something, and turned away.

The train screeched into the station. The doors slid open.

We stepped inside. The fluorescent lights were blinding. The car was half-full of late-night commuters. Drunks. Shift workers. Teenagers.

Every single head turned to look at us.

I grabbed a metal pole, staring at the floor. The water dripped from my ruined wedding suit, forming a dirty puddle at my feet.

"Oh my god," a teenage girl whispered loudly.

A flash went off. Someone was taking a picture.

"Stop it!" Claudia shrieked, hiding her face against my chest.

"Just ignore them," I gritted out, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.

It was the longest train ride of my life.

We finally got off at my stop. We walked three blocks in the pouring rain to my apartment building. The cheap, cramped brick building I thought I had left behind forever. I had packed my bags this morning, ready to move into the Kensington estate.

Now, I was back.

I fumbled with my keys. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The apartment was dark. It smelled like stale takeout and cheap cologne. It was a shoebox.

Claudia stood in the doorway, looking around in absolute disgust.

"I can't stay here," she whispered.

"You don't have a choice," I said, stripping off my wet jacket and throwing it on the floor.

I walked into the bedroom and collapsed face-first onto the lumpy mattress.

I didn't even take off my shoes. I just closed my eyes and prayed to wake up from this nightmare.

The vibration rattled against my skull.

I groaned, opening my eyes. Gray morning light filtered through the cheap plastic blinds. My suit was stiff and smelled like damp wool.

My phone was vibrating violently on the nightstand.

I reached over, my muscles screaming in protest.

I grabbed the phone.

The screen was flooded. Dozens of missed calls. Hundreds of text messages. Notifications from Twitter, Instagram, Facebook.

Mark: Bro, what the hell is this?!

Dave: Dude, are you seeing this?

Mom: Jules, call me right now!

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I clicked on a link Mark had sent me.

It opened a browser window. A tabloid website.

The video started playing automatically.

It was high definition. Shot from the lobby of the Grand Plaza.

It showed the hotel manager stripping me of the silk robe. It showed the security guards grabbing my arms.

It showed Claudia sobbing hysterically in her torn wedding dress as we were paraded through the glittering lobby.

It showed us being shoved out the glass doors into the rain.

I stared at the screen, unable to breathe.

Millions of views. The counter was ticking up by the second.

I looked at the headline plastered in bold, red letters across the top of the page.

FAKE HEIRESS AND GROOM TOSSED LIKE TRASH.

The phone slipped from my hand.