I overheard their conversation. Ethan was the
heir to the Lawson Corporation, worth
billions. No dead mom, no sick dad, no
struggling siblings. All lies!
Then I heard someone ask, “Ethan, are you
still with that broke girl, Chloe?” Another
chimed in, “You’ve been stringing her along
for two years. Don’t tell me you actually fell
for her?”
Ethan scoffed. “Fall for her? That cheap,
tacky girl? She’s not even fit to be my maid.”
My heart shattered. I looked at my rough
hands, calloused from work and chores. My
most expensive possession was my
secondhand phone. Then I looked at the
influencer, her skin flawless, her clothes
designer. We were worlds apart. So, I wasn’t
L
even good enough to be his maid.
“Then why not dump her?” someone asked.
Ethan smirked. “When I’m done playing with
her.” He continued, “She’s such a clueless
idiot. I casually mentioned a Patek Philippe
watch, and now she’s saving up to buy me
one. She eats ramen every day, wears cheap
clothes, and gets excited over a two–dollar
scrunchie.” He added cruelly, “She’s like a
dirty, used rag, good for wiping your shoes.”
The influencer giggled. “Don’t insult yourself, Ethan, by even comparing yourself to that kind of trash.” He stroked her hand. “Of
course, darling. She’s not fit to lick your
boots.” The room roared with laughter. Ethan laughed too, his eyes filled with contempt.
I clutched my chest, barely breathing, my limbs trembling. A dirty, used rag? I looked at the scrunchie on my wrist, biting my lip. I’d
pretended to love it because I didn’t want to hurt his pride. What girl wouldn’t want a real gift from her boyfriend? He’d twisted my
sincerity into a joke.
I stumbled, accidentally stepping on the
influencer’s foot. She slapped me. “You
clumsy idiot! Watch where you’re going!” |
apologized, head bowed, but she poked my
head, screaming, “Get on your knees and
apologize!”
Several guys shoved me. “How dare you
disrespect our queen! Kneel!” I fought back
tears. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I had stepped
on her foot.
