The Boyfriend Who Faked a Business Trip Lives Next Door with the Fake Heiress Chapter 08

The Boyfriend Who Faked a Business Trip Lives Next Door with the Fake Heiress Chapter 08

One month later.

New city. Small apartment-thirty-something square meters. A regular job.

Boring. But solid.

One night, I came home from work and found someone waiting outside my building.

Donovan.

He looked awful. Thin. Unshaven. Wrinkled clothes. The Black family heir had seen better days.

“Clara.” His eyes lit up.

I walked past him.

“Clara, please. Just listen.” He followed me. “I cut ties with my family. Every penny. I work construction now. Three hundred bucks a day.”

“I’ve been thinking. We can start over. I’ll work hard. Save up. Buy a place. No more lies.”

I stopped. Looked at him.

“How much do you make a month?”

He blinked. “Maybe nine, ten thousand.”

“I make six,” I said. “After rent, after everything, I can save maybe three thousand a month.”

“Thirty thousand dollars? That’s eight years.”

“How are you planning to screw me over this time? Take the money and buy some other woman a bag?”

Donovan went white. “Clara, I’d never-”

“You would. Because that’s who you are.”

“You lied to me for five years to make Violet happy. You treated me like a joke to stay in her good graces. Now she’s in jail, and you’re back, begging for another chance.”

“What happens when the next woman comes along?”

Donovan’s eyes went red. “Clara, I love you. I’ve only ever loved you.”

“Then what about Violet?”

“I didn’t love her. I was just—”

“Just what? Just giving her whatever she wanted? Just buying her bags and necklaces? Just living with her for five years?”

He had nothing.

“Donovan, you don’t love me.’

“You’re just not used to losing. You’re not used to the one person you thought would always be there walking away first.”

He shook his head. “That’s not-”

“Then explain it to me.” I held his gaze. “If you loved me, how could you let me live in that shithole for five years?”

“If you loved me, how could you watch me freeze my ass off washing my hair in cold water?”

“If you loved me, how could you take the money we’d saved for a house and blow it on another woman’s bag?”

“If you loved me, how could you spend five years helping Violet mess with

my

head?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Your love is too expensive,” I said quietly. “I can’t afford it.”

“Clara…” He reached for my hand.

I stepped back.

“Don’t touch me.”

His hand hung in the air.

“Donovan. Go.”

“Don’t come back here.”

“I told you. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your villa. I don’t want your guilt trip.”

“I want all of you-out of my life.”

Finally, the tears came.

“Clara, I’m so sorry. I know I messed up-”

“Then go fix it,” I said. “Just don’t fix it on my time.”

“I don’t owe you anything. You don’t owe me anything.”

“We’re even.”

I went upstairs. Didn’t look back.

Behind me, Donovan’s sobs echoed up the stairwell.

I closed my apartment door. Leaned against it. Slid down to the floor.

Cried. Quietly.

Not because I missed him.

Because it was finally over.

Five years of lies. Twenty years of being pushed around.

Over.

Three months later.

Violet’s verdict came down.

Attempted murder. Seven years.

The Gray and Black stocks kept falling. Both families were hemorrhaging money.

Mr. Gray sent people to find me. Wanted me to come back. You’re still a Gray, they said. The family

needs you.

I said no.

Donovan hadn’t come back. Heard he left town. Somewhere down south. Still working construction.

Sometimes people sent me messages. New gossip. Violet’s prison conduct reports. Donovan’s

location. How many assets the Grays had sold off.

I didn’t read them. Didn’t reply.

Those people. Those problems. None of my business anymore.

These days, I wake up early. Make myself a hot breakfast.

After work, I hit the grocery store. Learn to cook things I’ve never tried before.

Weekends, I go to the park. Or stay home and read.

Nothing special. But I like it.

My final checkup.

The doctor looked at my chart. Smiled.

“You’re all clear. No need to come back.”

I walked out of the hospital with my papers. Sun on my face. Blue sky.

Something in my chest felt light.

No one saved me this time.

I saved myself.

New city. Small apartment-thirty-something square meters. A kitchen. A bathroom. A window

facing the garden.

I started being good to me. Dropped the second job. Used hot water in winter. Ate fresh food instead

of discount noodles.

Day by day, things got better.

Walking down the street, I looked up at the sky and smiled.

The storm had passed.

Clear skies ahead.