Chapter 4

I never went back to my apartment after leaving the police station.

Michael offered to let me take a few days off before the transfer, but I turned him down. I checked into a hotel near the office instead and kept working.

I wasn't going to spend the last days before leaving New York hiding in a room, crying over people who had made a joke out of my life.

I had never been the kind of woman who fell apart and waited for someone to rescue her. Growing up without much money had taught me that security didn't come from promises or from a man saying he'd take care of me. It came from having a job, earning my own living, and knowing I could stand on my own.

Work was the one thing in my life they hadn't managed to turn into a joke.

The day before my flight, Michael asked me to have dinner with him after work. We had barely stepped outside the office when I spotted Matthew's crowd gathered near the entrance.

Jessica noticed me first. Her eyes moved from me to Michael, and her smile widened as if she'd just been handed fresh material. She looked me over, then began circling me with exaggerated applause.

"Wow. Lauren Miller, the gold digger who never misses an opportunity. I have to hand it to you."

She stopped in front of me, smiling brightly.

"First Matthew, then Ryan. And now you've found yourself another man? How do you do it? You should teach a class. I'd happily pay for a lesson."

Then she turned to Michael and gave him a dismissive once-over.

"Don't worry, Matthew. This one doesn't look nearly as rich as you. I'm sure he's just her backup plan."

A few people laughed. I could feel Michael go still beside me, but I didn't want him dragged into their ugly little performance.

I'd spent too long letting these people dictate how I felt about myself. I wasn't going to give them another scene to enjoy.

"Now it makes sense," one of them said. "We heard Lauren had been released from the station. Matthew had barely left before another guy showed up to take care of her."

"People like her are something else. You read about them in the news, but you never expect to meet one."

Matthew said nothing at first. He was staring at Michael with a look that didn't belong on the face of an ex-boyfriend. He looked like a husband who'd just caught his wife cheating.

"Who is he?" he demanded.

I almost laughed.

"Matthew, you and I broke up two years ago. Who I spend time with now is none of your business."

His jaw tightened. A vein stood out at his temple.

"We never broke up, Lauren. That was a test. I told you, I've always been the one in a relationship with you."

I looked straight at him.

"Is that so? Then when Ryan and I slept together, was that you filling in for him, too?"

For the first time, Matthew had no answer.

The color drained from his face. He turned slowly toward Ryan, who immediately dropped his eyes.

Then Matthew lunged.

His fist connected with Ryan's face.

"You bastard! How many times did I tell you we were only pretending?"

Ryan stumbled back, then swung at him. The two of them started fighting right there on the sidewalk, their friends shouting and scrambling to pull them apart.

I watched for a second, feeling nothing but a cold, distant disbelief.

So that was what finally mattered to Matthew. Not the years he'd spent lying to me. Not the humiliation he'd let his friends put me through. Just the fact that Ryan had crossed a line Matthew thought belonged to him.

Michael touched my elbow.

"Come on, Lauren. Let's go."

I walked away with him, leaving the shouting behind.

Even as the two men fought, Matthew kept yelling after me.

"Lauren! I'll be waiting at my place tomorrow. We'll go to the courthouse and get married. I'll give you everything you've ever wanted!"

I didn't turn around.

It was almost impressive how little he understood. After everything, he still believed I was waiting for him to offer me a better deal.

The truth was, I'd stopped caring about his money a long time ago. By then, I barely cared what he thought of me.

The next morning, I took my suitcase and headed to the airport.

Matthew called again and again during the drive. His name kept flashing across the screen, the same name I'd once been happy to see at any hour of the day.

I declined every call. When the phone rang once more, I pulled out the SIM card, dropped it into a trash can, and let the phone go silent.

At the airport, I checked in, cleared security, and boarded my flight without looking back.