Priceless Heartbreak

You'll never be anything but a broke line cook. How could you ever measure up to me?

That's what I said the day I dumped him.

Now I'm standing in the middle of his packed restaurant, receipt in hand, hunting for someone to take my money.

Excuse me, miss! Check, please! a customer hollers at me.

I shake my head. Not a server.

He doubles down, grinning. "My bad, my bad. You're the owner's wife, right?"

The front door swings open.

The actual owner walks in.

Him. My ex.

Cigarette hanging from his lips, his gaze cuts across the crowd and nails me to the floor. His mouth curls into a slow, amused smile.

"Don't." He blows out a ring of smoke. His voice is quiet, and it still lands on my face like a slap. "I could never measure up to her."

The whole room howls. Just the boss being funny.

I stumble back half a step. My blood turns to ice water.

And the memory comes boomeranging back, right between the eyes: him, burning with fever, eyes red and wet, begging me not to leave.

Here's what nobody knows. Not even him.

The day I threw him away, I cut my own mother out of my life for good, traded her for a bank card with $300,000 on it.

The money that kept his little sister alive.

I planned on taking that secret to my grave.

Chapter 1

I'd just finished hotpot for one when I went looking for a server to pay my bill.

Instead, table after table flagged me down like I was the server.

I glanced at my brand-new outfit. Embroidered white blouse. Black mermaid skirt.

All I could do was smile and shake my head. Not staff.

So the room changed its guess. "Oh! She's the owner's wife!"

Heat crawled up my cheeks. I waved both hands, flustered. No. Also no.

That was when the owner walked back in, cigarette between his lips. His eyes swept over me, cool and unbothered, and his mouth tipped into a lazy, mocking smile.

"Save it. I could never measure up."

The customers cracked up. "Oh, come on, boss! You've got that roguish bad-boy thing going, and she's straight-up gorgeous. Match made in heaven!"

I was the only one who backed up half a step, wishing the floor would open.

The owner was him?

Lennox Kane. My ex.

Two years ago he'd stood in front of me burning with fever, eyes rimmed red, begging me not to end it. And what did I say to him?

Oh. Right.

"You'll never be anything but a broke line cook. How could you ever measure up to me?"

Now he owned the place. The whole chain. Dozens of locations across the country, every one of them packed. Worth tens of millions. Conservatively.

I laughed at myself. Funny how it goes.

Yesterday, you were beneath me. Today, I can't touch you.

At the counter, a girl came out from the kitchen.

"Hey, gorgeous! We just opened this location. Post a story about us on Instagram and you get to enter the raffle. Grand prize is sixty percent off!"

I had a mortgage due every month, and the studio renovation had eaten most of my savings.

I was already reaching for my phone.

Lennox barely lifted his eyes. His voice came out flat. "Don't waste the rich daddy's girl's precious time with your tacky little discount raffle."

The girl shot him a glare, zero mercy. "Lennox! If you can't say something nice, zip it!"

Something bitter climbed the back of my throat. I swallowed it. A few taps, then I held the screen up for her to see.

"Does this count as an entry?"

Something flickered through Lennox's eyes. There and gone.

He didn't know.

In college I'd worked every hour I wasn't in class, scraping together tuition and rent.

After graduation, rent went up and I couldn't cover it. My landlord threw me out overnight, bags and all.

When I got sick, I didn't dare see a doctor. I was too scared of the number on the bill. So I bought the cheapest meds on the shelf, slept it off, and toughed it out.

When the studio was starting up, I was flat broke. Three meals a day of plain boiled noodles. I couldn't even afford instant ramen.

You live through all that, you learn something.

Pride doesn't pay the bills.

The girl beamed at me, bright and easy and impossible to dislike. Exactly the kind of girl Lennox would fall for.

"You're all set! Stick your hand in the box and draw!"

She unfolded my slip and squealed.

"Grand prize! Sixty percent off! You're so lucky!"

I caught myself smiling too. A small, unexpected win.

"You know what, gorgeous? Forget the discount. I'll comp your whole meal. But you have to give me your number."

I froze, blinking at her.

As she said it, she glanced back at Lennox and scrunched her nose at him, that unguarded, teasing ease of two people who'd known each other for years.

My fingers tightened around my phone.

Chapter 2

"Your dance studio is right across the street, isn't it? Like a hundred feet away? I've seen you through the window so many times. You dance like something out of a dream!"

"C'mere, you gorgeous thing. Gimme a hug."

I have never once survived this brand of sweet-girl charm. "Okay, okay. But no comping my meal. You've given me too big a discount already."

Her Instagram handle was adorable. @LuckyLexi.

So that was her name. Lexi.

I paid and stepped out of the restaurant. Behind me, I heard her laughing, scolding Lennox about something.

My feet stopped. Every instinct said turn around. Look.

I didn't dare.

Because I was scared my eyes would go red before I could stop them.

Scared I'd start imagining. If that one thing had never happened two years ago, could the woman laughing back there have been me?

Even if all we ever had was a tiny hole-in-the-wall diner and a too-tight budget, it would have been warm. It would have been enough.

The truth is, today is my birthday.

The new outfit, the hotpot splurge: that was me celebrating. Party of one.

The first birthday anyone ever threw me, I was twenty. Lennox threw it.

That sweet, lopsided cake? He'd begged an upperclassman in the pastry program to teach him, then practiced day and night until he got it right.

He taught me something that day. Even if you're alone, you celebrate properly. Because you're supposed to love yourself.

He also promised he'd bake my cake himself. Every year. For all the years.

When I started college, my mother cut me off completely. No tuition, no living money. I juggled more jobs than I had hands for and half-ran everywhere I went. Campus called me the hardest hustler on two feet.

Lennox had it worse. Parents gone, a little sister in high school to feed. If he wasn't working, he was on his way to work. Campus crowned him the other hardest hustler on two feet.

By some miracle, we kept landing shifts at the same places. One shift became ten. Liking became love.

We were broke and exhausted and busy every waking minute. And it's still one of the only stretches of my life that tastes sweet when I remember it.

"No way. The ice queen of the dance department, the it-girl herself, is dating some future line cook from the community college across town?"

"You're joking. Wait, is he secretly a trust-fund kid?"

"Nope. Orphan, apparently. Plus a kid sister he drags around like dead weight."

"With that face she could have any man alive. And she picks him?"

"Right? Guess somebody's out here waiting on a broke Prince Charming!"

The cackling went on and on.

I heard all of it back then. Every word.

I didn't care.

I actually believed, God, I was young, that as long as we didn't care, we could outlast everything the world threw at us.

Then... we broke up.

And every year since, I've done exactly what he taught me. Celebrated properly. Loved myself.

But I have never bought a birthday cake. Not once.

"Isabelle."

Low. Rough. Lazy. I'd know that voice anywhere.

I turned before my brain caught up, palms going damp.

"Wh... what is it?"

His eyes were black and unreadable. "Why are you nervous?"

"I'm... I'm not," I said, tripping over the world's least convincing lie.

"Your keys."

I snatched them from his hand, something dimming behind my ribs.

Muttered a thank-you. Turned to make my escape.

"Wait."

Chapter 3

He'd caught me again. And again, my traitor feet stopped.

I frowned, half-turning.

What was he doing? Was it physically impossible for him to say everything in one breath?

"Happy birthday."

Two words. Not warm, not cold. They hit me square in the face, and my nose stung like I'd been slapped.

I managed a tiny nod. Said nothing. Walked away fast, almost tripping.

What was I supposed to say? Anything, one syllable, and he'd hear the crying in it.

I made it all the way to my building before my legs gave out. I sank down against the streetlamp, hand clamped over my mouth, and sobbed. By the time I noticed, my whole face was already wet.

The elevator died that week. Of course it did, on the day I came home hugging a whole box of fruit.

So I climbed. Slowly. The box was heavy and my arms were shaking.

It took forever to reach the fourth floor. Then voices floated up the stairwell behind me, laughing, getting closer. Familiar.

"Belle? You live here too?"

Lexi. And Lennox.

He crushed out his cigarette one-handed, walked up like it was nothing, and held out his arms.

"Let me."

I opened my mouth to refuse.

"Aw, Belle, just let him carry it."

So I caved, awkward down to my toes.

"Fine... thank you."

Handing it over, I misjudged the angle. My fingers brushed the back of his hand. Warm. My skin flushed hot where we'd touched.

Turned out Lexi went to the university nearby. They'd just moved into this complex, right when the new location opened down the street.

Right below me, actually. Me on eight. Them on seven.

Living together, then.

So they really were a couple.

The fact of it, bright and undeniable, crushed the stupid little hope I'd been carrying like an egg in my pocket.

We finally reached my door. Inside, Lexi spun in a slow circle, drinking it all in.

"Belle, your place is gorgeous. It's so cozy. This is literally the home I daydream about. Do you rent, or is it yours?"

"Mine. Still paying the mortgage. If you like it, come over whenever you want."

Surprise flickered through Lennox's eyes.

The truth is, buying this apartment nearly broke me. It means counting every dollar after the mortgage clears each month. I bought it anyway.

My assistant never understood. She asked me why once.

"Because I'm tired of landlords raising rent. Tired of moving."

She nodded like that settled it. "Fair."

I didn't explain further. Just smiled a little.

The real reason?

Maybe it's that I've never had a home. So I decided to give myself one.

If no family was ever going to give me a home, then four walls and a mortgage would have to do.

I stood at the fridge, about to ask Lexi: juice or yogurt?

Her handle was @LuckyLexi. I liked her far too much already, and her name came out of me easy and fond.

"Lexi"

Before I even finished, three answers came back at once.

The Alexa on the shelf: "I'm here."

Lexi: "Yeah, Belle?"

My hand went still around the juice bottle. I froze where I stood.

Because that was when it hit me. Back in college, when we were disgustingly in love, I had a name I used just for him.

Lex.

And Lennox had answered too. A low, unthinking sound, barely above a breath.

His eyes came up and found mine, dark with something I couldn't name.

Chapter 4

A girl stood on the steps, hands cupped around her mouth, smiling so hard her eyes curved.

"Lex! Oh, Le-ex!"

In the sunlight, the boy's eyes glittered.

Deep-set eyes that always went soft when they landed on her. A little wicked around the edges. The kind of look that made her heart trip every single time.

"I'm here. Always am."

They grinned at each other, bright as the sun itself.

Lexi blinked at Lennox, puzzled. "Did you just..."

"You heard wrong."

His face was so perfectly straight that she lost her nerve on the spot.

"Oh. Okay. Maybe I heard wrong."

That afternoon, I'd just sent my last class of students home when my phone rang. Mom.

She was shrieking before I got out a hello. "Belle, come quick! Mom is begging you, The Solstice Lounge, VIP Room 207... Stay away from me! No!"

The line filled with her terrified screaming. My heart lurched, and I ran.

Room 207. Neon and liquor light. Men and women tangled up laughing on the sofas.

And no sign of my mother anywhere.

Wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I kept my face blank and eased backward.

The door had already closed behind me.

A woman in heavy makeup pinched my arm, hard and hidden, and hauled me in front of an old man.

I'd rushed straight from class. I was still in my Latin dance dress.

His gaze crawled up my legs. Slow. Bottom to top. Like hands.

"Now that is something. Your mama says you were the it-girl of the dance department! No wonder. Look at those legs." He laughed, wet and pleased.

My heart sank, inch by inch. Nausea climbed my throat in waves.

I drove my nails into my palms. Forced myself calm.

Then I dragged up a smile and poured honey on it. "My mother filled me in before I came, Mr. Horn. I know exactly how this works. Relax."

The fat man's grin turned oily. He blew a smoke ring at my face.

"Like mother, like daughter! If your mama's already trained you, then I can rest easy. Keep me happy, sweetheart, and I promise you'll live better than she ever has."

The bile hit the back of my teeth.

I was white as paper. I made myself go softer, sweeter, coy. "Mr. Horn? Let me go freshen up first. Get myself all ready for you... hmm?"

He sent a woman to tail me anyway. Fine. Bathroom first. Think second.

The call connected. My voice came out cold. "Where are you? What is this?"

"You've met Mr. Horn by now, hm? Keep him happy. Who knows, maybe he'll marry you, make you a trophy wife! I left you to rot for two years, you should have grown some sense by now!"

"Ugh, enough. You little jinx. The second I picked up your call, my poker hand went cold. Hanging up!"

She hung up before I could beg her, mother to daughter, for even a scrap of mercy.

My heart dropped like a stone down a well.

The woman outside banged on the door. "Hey! You done in there? Come out or I'm coming in to drag you out!"

I scanned the bathroom. No window. No back way. The only exit was through them.

"Coming right out!"

Chapter 5

The woman was leaning by the door, eyes narrowed over her cigarette. I kept my head down and tried to slip past her.

I made it four steps.

She noticed.

My heart jolted. I bolted.

Her hand closed in my hair and yanked. Her other hand ripped my collar halfway down my shoulder.

I clawed at her, covering myself, and she wrenched me straight to the floor.

The noise brought Mr. Horn waddling over.

I squeezed my eyes shut, burning with humiliation. Every last-resort option I had flashed through my head. None of them were good.

Then a voice cut through the room. Low. Rough. Furious under the calm.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Lennox.

He crossed the room in three strides, dropped a jacket over my shoulders, still warm, still smelling faintly of tobacco.

Then he pulled me up off the floor. Gently. Like I might break.

"Well, well. Mr. Kane himself." Horn spread his hands. "What, you got your eye on this one too? Take her. She's all yours."

Lennox gave him one look. Just one. His black eyes were murder held on a leash.

He'd seen me at my absolute worst. My most pathetic, most wrecked.

And it turned out the lounge was his, too.

Outside, I pulled open the front passenger door.

"Backseat." His voice was flat. Empty of anything.

I stood there for a second. Then I shut the door, quietly, and went around to the back.

A dull ache spread behind my ribs.

Right. Of course. The front seat is for the person you love.

He walked me all the way up. I dug out my keys, hesitating over whether to invite him in.

By the time I turned around to ask, he was already in the elevator, back to me, not a single glance over his shoulder.

The doors were sliding shut. He frowned and lit a cigarette.

Maybe he felt me watching. His eyes lifted, cool and unreadable, and looked straight into mine.

The doors sealed. Cut the look clean in half.

After that night, Lexi showed up whenever she didn't have class. She'd chatter on my couch or come watch me dance at the studio.

I had a quiet suspicion Lennox was sending her. To keep an eye on me. To keep me company.

One afternoon, we went shopping. On the way back, Lexi called Lennox to come get us.

I climbed into the backseat. Automatically. I knew my place now.

Then Lexi climbed into the backseat from the other side.

I stared at her.

Why wasn't she taking the front seat?

"Belle? What's wrong?"

I caught myself and smiled. "Nothing. Zoned out for a second."

He dropped us at my place and headed back to the restaurant. Interviews for a new store manager, apparently.

Lexi and I settled into the living room with sangria, warm and loose-tongued.

"Belle, okay, full honesty. When I asked for your number that day? Half of it was wanting to befriend a gorgeous woman. The other half was wanting to set you up with my brother."

I stared at her, glass frozen halfway to my mouth.

"Your brother?"

"Mm. He's my brother. We each took a different parent's last name."

She squinted at me. Then her jaw dropped.

"Wait. Belle. Did you think we were a COUPLE?" She howled with laughter.

I nodded, ears burning. She laughed harder.

Then, slowly, the laughter drained out of her.

"When I was in kindergarten, my mom... there was an accident. My parents and my brother were driving over to pick me up. Dad and Lennox were hurt. Mom was in the front passenger seat. She never came home."

Something I'd read once surfaced in my mind. A statistic.

In a crash, the front passenger seat has the highest fatality rate of any seat in the car.

So that was it.

That was why, that night, Lennox wouldn't let me sit in the front.

Chapter 6

"Then, when I was in middle school, a man named Victor Sloan ran Dad's company into the ground. Dirty tactics, all of it. Dad's heart gave out. He didn't make it either."

My eyelid twitched.

The man my mother remarried was named Victor Sloan.

Instinct told me it was the same man. I'd have bet my life on it.

"And then, my first year of high school, I came home for break and my brother told me he was in love. Said she was beautiful. Brilliant. It was the first time since our parents died that I saw light in his eyes again. Actual hope. Not that numb, going-through-the-motions look."

"Then, not long after, she dumped him. Brutally. Over his background."

I looked down and dragged up the corners of my mouth. "Then... your brother must really hate her."

"No."

Lexi swayed, tipsy, the words coming out soft and slurred.

"I asked him the exact same thing. He shook his head. Didn't even hesitate. I couldn't understand it either..."

"He just laughed at me and said, I had nothing back then. Why would I blame her? The only person I will ever hate is the man who couldn't give her a better life..."

"He quit smoking for that girl, you know. Quit drinking. After the breakup, he smoked twice as much. And once I was out of the hospital, he finally let himself go and drank until his stomach bled