Chapter 3

That five hundred thousand dollars acted like a strong dose of anesthesia, temporarily delaying my death sentence, though it couldn't change the final outcome.

I bought better medication and underwent two rounds of treatment. My body seemed to improve slightly—or at least, I didn't gasp for air after walking a few steps anymore.

My best friend, Harper, came to visit me with red eyes. She said she had found me an easy job through a contact.

A receptionist at an art gallery. Two hundred dollars a day, paid daily.

I knew she was just trying to help because she knew I wouldn't accept direct charity. I also knew my own physical limits. So, I agreed.

I didn't want to spend the final days of my life just waiting around to die.

I needed the money, but more than that, I needed a distraction to numb my mind.

Something to keep me from thinking about Ethan, and from dwelling on a past I could never return to.

But as I stood in the elegantly decorated art gallery, wearing an ill-fitting uniform and a face mask, fate decided to play another cruel joke on me.

Ethan and Vivian walked in arm-in-arm.

He was a VIP guest, and she was the beautiful fiancée by his side.

I instinctively lowered my head, trying to shrink into the shadows.

But Ethan recognized me instantly.

Even with the mask, even with my hunched posture.

His gaze locked onto me with absolute precision.

He abandoned the guests he was chatting with and walked straight toward me.

Vivian, holding his arm, followed him with a confused look.

"Chloe Sanders?" His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room, silencing the surrounding chatter. "What a small world."

A mocking smirk played on his lips. "What, did you burn through that five hundred thousand already? You actually have to work a crappy job like this to survive?"

The stares from the crowd pricked my skin like needles.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.

Vivian gently tugged at Ethan’s arm and said softly, "Ethan, don't be like that. Maybe Chloe is going through a hard time..."

"A hard time?" Ethan sneered, his eyes scanning my pale, wasted face. "What kind of hard time could a woman who dumped her boyfriend for cash possibly have? She got exactly what she deserved."

He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me, crushing me with an invisible pressure.

"Or did you know I'd be here today, and decided to play hard-to-get again?"

I looked at his familiar yet foreign face, seeing nothing but raw hatred in his eyes. Suddenly, any explanation felt completely pointless.

I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Mr. Vance, you’ve misunderstood. I’m just doing my job here. If my presence offends you and your fiancée, I apologize."

I bowed my head, trying to slip past them.

But suddenly, Vivian gasped, pointing at a barely visible smudge on the hem of her gown.

"My dress!" She frowned, glaring at me. "Excuse me? Watch where you're going! You ruined my dress!"

Ethan’s face darkened instantly.

He snatched the cleaning cloth right out of my hand and threw it to the floor.

"Chloe, do you hate seeing me happy that much? Do you really have to ruin things in front of my fiancée?"

"This dress is Vivian's favorite. It's a limited edition worth tens of thousands of dollars."

He stared down at me, his eyes freezing cold. "Can you even afford to replace it?"

The gallery fell silent, and then whisperings erupted like a swarm of flies.

"So she's the gold-digging ex-girlfriend who dumped Mr. Vance for money..."

"Yikes. Look at her now. Talk about karma."

"Ruining Vivian's dress? She's so screwed."

I stood there, completely isolated, feeling like a circus clown.

The energy drained from my body. My vision began to blur into darkness.

I knew I was about to collapse.