---- Chapter 4 The next morning, | started packing in earnest. There wasn' t much to pack. A few sets of cheap clothes, some books, my portfolio from my community college art classes. | looked at my worn-out t-shirts and faded jeans, then thought of the tailored suit Liam had been wearing in the hospital. One of his shoes probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. He was in the other room, still playing the part of the recovering patient, but he seemed restless, constantly checking his phone. He truly was a high-class young master, | thought with a grim internal smile. This charade must be getting tiresome for him. He came into the bedroom as | was zipping up my old suitcase. "Are you going somewhere?" he asked, a slight frown on his face. "I'm just taking some old clothes to the orphanage," | lied ---- smoothly. "They're having a donation drive." "Oh," he said, relaxing. "Let me go with you. | shouldn't let you carry heavy things by yourself." Right on cue, his phone rang. The ringtone was a generic, jaunty tune, but | saw the name on the screen before he could snatch it up: "Tiffany." He turned away from me, walking into the living room as he answered, his voice low. | could still hear him. "Hey... Yeah, I'm with her now... No, | can't. | have to stay and look after her... | know, | know. Just a little longer." He came back a minute later, his expression a perfect blend of apology and frustration. "That was my boss," he said, the lie rolling off his tongue effortlessly. "There's an emergency at the gallery. ---- | have to go. I'm so sorry, Sarah. I'll make it up to you, | promise." | just nodded. "It's okay. Work is important." | watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him. It felt like a scene from a movie | had seen a hundred times. How many times had he used that "boss" or "gallery emergency" excuse in the middle of the night? How many times had |, like a fool, packed him a late-night snack and told him not to work too hard? | was such an idiot. A complete and utter fool, mesmerized by his sweet words and feigned vulnerability. After he left, | finished packing. There was one last thing | needed to do before | left this city for good. | took a bus to the orphanage where | grew up, stopping at a ---- small store on the way to buy some candy and notebooks for the children. Then, | decided to go to the mall nearby. | wanted to buy a proper gift for Mrs. Gable, the director of the orphanage, a warm scarf for the winter. The mall was bright and loud, a world away from my cramped apartment | was browsing the scarves when | heard a familiar voice, sharp and demanding. "This one, and this one. And all of these. Just wrap them up." | turned. There, at the counter of a high-end cosmetics store, was Tiffany Hayes. And standing next to her, holding her shopping bags, was Liam. He wasn't wearing his "struggling artist" clothes anymore. He was in a designer jacket, looking every bit the wealthy heir. He was smiling at Tiffany, a fond, indulgent smile, as she pointed at various items. ---- "Liam, sweetheart, do you think this color suits me?" she asked, holding up a lipstick. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Everything suits you." The sales associate was fawning over them. "That will be ten thousand dollars, Mr. Blackwood." Ten thousand dollars. On makeup. My heart clenched. The most expensive gift he had ever given me was a twenty- dollar silver-plated bracelet from a street vendor, a gift | had treasured like it was made of diamonds Liam didn't even blink. He pulled a wallet out of his jacket, and from it, he produced a sleek, black credit card. A Centurion Card. The legendary black card, invitation-only, for the mega-rich. The sales associate's eyes widened. "Right away, Mr. Blackwood." ---- The sight of that card was the final confirmation. It was the physical embodiment of the vast, unbridgeable chasm between his world and mine. He wasn't just playing a part; he was a king slumming it in the gutters for a while, for a laugh. And | was the joke. The one he spent a few dollars on while he was spending tens of thousands on her. All the sacrifices, all the pain, all the love I'd given him-it was all a game to him. A cheap thrill before he returned to his real life of casual, thoughtless wealth.