My Boyfriend Played Broke to Fool Me, So I Vanished Chapter 01

My Boyfriend Played Broke to Fool Me, So I Vanished Chapter 01

When I found out Evan Chase had been pretending to be poor, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

I waited until he turned his back.

Then I grabbed the fruit knife off the table and drove it into his arm.

The blade went all the way in.

I smiled at him. “We’re even.”

Almost two years of my heart—I ended it with one cut.

From that day on, his arm would ache every time it rained.

To get revenge, he had me sent to prison.

He paid off the people inside. They dislocated my shoulder nineteen times.

One for every month we had been together.

After I got out, I found work as a waitress at a street-side grill.

Evan pulled up in his Maybach at the worst possible moment and saw me.

Then he lost it—because I was using a “rag” to wipe down a table.

That rag was a silk scarf. The one he’d bought me after spending three days painting someone’s portrait.

***

He didn’t expect me to ignore him.

He stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

Back in his rich-kid life, he looked polished. A Richard Mille on his wrist. Nothing like the broke artist who’d lived in a basement on my part-time wages.

“I’m talking to you. Can’t you hear me?”

He rolled up his sleeve. The scar was ugly—a deep trench even after a year.

“You did this. You hated me for lying. So you got your revenge right then.”

He paused. “But you went too far. I had someone twist your arm off—just to blow off steam. So now we’re even.”

I almost smiled. My lips were cracked from malnutrition. Just moving them hurt.

Yeah. Even.

I didn’t hate him for the lie. I hated that everything I’d suffered through—I’d suffered for something fake.

I nodded at him and tried to walk past.

He grabbed my shoulder. His hand froze for a second.

“How’d you get so thin?”

His voice cracked.

He knew. He knew I hadn’t been eating. He knew I’d been doing physical labor. He just didn’t care until now.

Something flickered in his eyes—almost pity.

It reminded me of the time I’d stabbed bamboo skewers at a BBQ joint to buy him paint.

I’d never done that kind of work before.

Three cents per skewer. I brought home two hundred forty dollars.

My hands were covered in tiny cuts.

Back then, he’d looked at me with that same face. He’d held me and said over and over, “No more. We’re not doing that anymore.”

Later, when I found out it was all a lie, I realized that pity was fake too.

I tried to push him off.

But Evan caught my wrist with his other hand.

“Come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere!”

I was weak. We struggled. I staggered.

His phone rang.

He pulled out his phone with his other hand. He checked the screen. Frowned. But he answered anyway.

“Hey, babe. I know we have dinner with your dad tonight. Easy baby. I’m busy right now.”

He hung up. Saw my expression. Didn’t flinch.

“Fiancée. Family arrangement. People like us don’t get to choose. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep you.”

I laughed. Cold.

He had a fiancée. And he still wanted to keep me on the side like a pet.

He hadn’t changed. Still the same man who thought my love was his birthright.

I yanked my arm free with everything I had.

I was about to walk forward.

“Where are you going?”

Without thinking, I answered his question.

“Home.”

A strange smile spread across his face.

He handed me his phone.

“This home?”

“Looks like your parents don’t want you anymore.”

The screen showed a news headline from six months ago.

“Quinn Group CEO Refuses to Comment on Daughter’s Imprisonment: ‘She’s No Daughter of Mine.'”