The Three Thousand That Ended My Devotion

Five years into our relationship, I asked my rich boyfriend for three thousand dollars.

He turned me down without a second's hesitation.

Baby, three thousand is what I spend on one dinner. I can give it to you on my own, but you can't ask for it. My family will look down on you.

I begged him through my tears. "Tristram, my mom's been in a car accident. The surgery costs money, and this is all we're short. Help me, please. I swear I'll pay you back."

Before I could finish, I heard the crack of a gavel on the other end of the line.

Then an auctioneer's sweet voice.

"Eighteen million! Congratulations to Mr. Rowe on winning this exquisite ruby necklace."

The call cut off.

Only then did I rememberhe'd gone to an auction today, to buy a birthday gift for his childhood sweetheart.

A necklace worth over ten million. I couldn't even picture it, but I knew it had to be prettier than the silver chain around my neck.

He was afraid I was after his money.

Fine. Then I didn't want his money, and I didn't want him either.

I took the necklace off and dropped it in the trash.

It was the token of our relationship, Tristram's and mine.

A silver chain that cost a little over a hundred dollars, shabby to the point of being laughable, and yet I'd worn it all this time like it was some treasure.

He'd told me back then, "Angie, bear with it for a while. I'm afraid if I give you something too expensive, my family will get the wrong idea and think you're only with me for the money."

I was drunk on the joy of being in love, and I threw my arms around him and kissed him like a fool.

"It's no hardship. I fell for you, not your money."

Too bad Tristram never believed that line.

Five years together, and in his mind I was still nothing but a gold-digger chasing his status.

Just then my phone lit up. A news alert popped onto the screen.

Tristram Rowe Spends Millions on Desiree Galloway's BirthdayChildhood Sweethearts Rumored to Wed

I wiped my eyes and pulled up a chat.

You said once that you'd give me money if I ever agreed to break up. Does that still stand? I only need three thousand.

The reply came almost instantly.

Of course it stands. What's your account number? I'll send it now.

Clean, direct, not a wasted word.

Moments later, a transfer landed in my account. A full three hundred thousand.

I stared at the number for a long time, then sent Tristram a message.

Let's break up.

He didn't reply. Probably too busy soothing his little childhood sweetheart.

I blocked every way he had of reaching me, packed my suitcase, and booked a ticket home for early the next morning.

At ten that night, Tristram came home.

He pressed me down onto the couch and leaned in to kiss me.

I shoved him off, hard.

"Tristram, didn't you see my message? We're done."

He straightened up, his face dark.

"Angie, be good. So I didn't give you the money this afternoonit was three thousand dollars, that's all. Don't throw a tantrum at me. Once you marry me, you'll have far more than that."

I pulled my lips into a smile and said, bitterly, "Right. I get it now. From now on I'll never ask you for money again."

Tristram pinched my cheek and laughed. "That's my good girl. With your background, if you want to marry into the Rowes without any trouble, you have to give my family nothing to criticize. That's why I can't give you a cent before the wedding. Otherwise they'll think you're greedy."

I broke free of his arms, and a deep helplessness rose up in me.

Here we go again.

Every time there was a problem, Tristram said the exact same thing.

In college, I worked part-time to cover my living expenses. A modeling agency wanted to sign me back then, promised me an A-list contract. Tristram said parading in front of a camera was too humiliating, that there was no way he'd marry some show girl.

So I gave it up. And the girl who signed around the same time is on the cover of an international magazine now.

After graduation, I made it through five rounds of interviews into a top architecture design firm. Because I kept working late, Tristram told me to quit, saying all those late nights were bad for my health and would make it harder to get pregnant after we married.

So I switched to a nine-to-five job with no room to advance.

In five years together, every time Tristram said he wanted to marry me, it came with a harsh condition attached.

And every time, so I could marry him, I gave in.

Until now.

I looked him in the eye and said, evenly, "Tristram, I don't want to marry you anymore. Your family is out of my league."

Tristram frowned.

He was about to say something when his phone rang with the ringtone he'd set just for Desiree Galloway.

He answered, glancing at me.

"Fine, got it. I'll bring her over right now."

Something was wrong. I stepped back twice.

He reached out and blocked me.

"Angie, come to the hospital with me right now. You and Desiree are a match. She needs you to donate bone marrow."

I thought I'd misheard. Wary, I asked, "When did I get tested? Why don't I know anything about this?"

Tristram's eyes flickered, and he looked away, guilty.

"A few days ago, when you went in for your physical, I had the doctor run it while you were there. You know Desiree has a blood disease. She's been looking for a donor. I figured you two had the same blood type, so I had the doctor check."

It was absurd. I raised my voice at him. "Desiree has tried to frame me over and over, and now she wants me to save her? In her dreams!"

Tristram's face soured.

"Angie, I did this for you! My mother loves kind-hearted girls. Once you donate to Desiree, when my mother finds out, she'll definitely agree to us being together, and from then on"

I cut him off, my eyes red.

"Tristram, there's no 'from then on.' We've already broken up!"

I stood and went for my suitcase.

Tristram gave a cold snort and kicked it open.

Clothes scattered across the floor.

He stared at me, vicious. "I don't agree. You think you can just leave?"

The bodyguards tied me up and hauled me to the hospital.

When Desiree saw me, she arched an eyebrow, pleased with herself.

"Angela, looks like we really are fated. Not only do we love the same man, our bone marrow's a match too."

Seeing that nasty smile, I backed away a few steps without thinking.

Tristram grabbed hold of me.

"Don't be scared. Donating marrow is just drawing some blood. It won't kill you."

Desiree curled her lips and mouthed the words at me behind Tristram's back: "You're dead."

A chill went through me.

Thinking of my mother lying in the operating room, I begged him in desperation.

"Tristram, for the sake of the five years we were together, let me go! My mom was in a car accident. They're still fighting to save her. I have to go be with her."

Tristram hesitated for a moment.

Desiree's expression shifted at once. She threw her arms around his and started crying, all soft and pitiful.

"Tristram, Angela has a sister and a brother. Someone will look after her mom. But the doctors say I have two months to live at most. She's my last hope. Can you really stand to watch me die?"

Tristram patted her back to comfort her.

"Don't cry. I'll save you, I promise."

Desiree nestled against him, lifting her tear-filled eyes, her voice gentle.

"Angela, I'm sorry. I made you angry before because I really do love Tristram. But don't worry. As long as you donate this time, I won't fight you for him anymore. I hope the two of you will be happy from now on."

I shook my head as hard as I could.

Only to hear Tristram say to me, "Hurry up and thank Desiree. Once you've saved her, we'll finally get married without any trouble."

I couldn't believe it. I pointed at Desiree and snapped, "I donate my bone marrow to her, and you want me to thank her? I think you're the one who's sick!"

Tristram sighed and gripped my hand tight.

"Angie, don't be so stubborn. One day you'll understand everything I did was for your own good."

Two doctors stepped forward, and a needle of anesthetic went into the side of my neck.

I blacked out. When I woke, I found myself locked alone in a hospital room, and the doctors came in on schedule to inject me with drugs.

In the middle of the night I was writhing on the bed from the pain when I heard two people talking in low voices at the door.

"Honestly, of all the people this Angela Swanson could have crossed, she had to go and offend the eldest Galloway daughter. Let me tell you a secret. That match report was forged by Miss Galloway. The match never succeeded at all. The real donor is someone else entirely."

"That explains it. This girl's malnourished, weak, anemic. She never met the conditions for a marrow transplant."

"Shh, keep it down. Miss Galloway is drawing her blood just to teach her a lesson. That's what she gets for stealing another woman's man."

Their voices faded down the corridor.

My mind went blank. I pulled the blanket over my head and let the tears fall in silence.

Five days later, Tristram finally showed up.

He handed me a bouquet of roses.

"Angie, the transplant's this afternoon. Don't worry, I've arranged the best doctors for you. It'll only take a few hours."

I was shaking all over with fear. Clinging to one last shred of hope, I grabbed hard at the hem of his shirt.

"Don't go! Please don't go! Desiree is trying to hurt me. My marrow doesn't match hers at all. Go check the doctors' test results for me, please?"

Tristram listened, and his face went dark.

"Angie, Desiree is dying, and instead of wanting to save her, you're trying to frame her."

I tried to defend myself. "It's true. I heard the doctors talking. She faked the test report."

To my shock, his eyes were full of disappointment.

"Angie, I'm realizing how selfish you really are. You're so jealous you'd stand by and watch Desiree die. The girl I fell for was simple and sweet. What you've become now is ugly enough to make me sick."

I fought to explain.

"Tristram, I've never once lied to you. Why won't you believe me just this once?"

But he cut me off, pulled out a photo, and flung it in my face.

"Enough! I already had someone check. Your mother was never sick at all. For a lousy three thousand dollars, you'd curse your own mother and lie through your teeth to trick me. Angela Swanson, you really are both greedy and stupid. For money, is there anything you wouldn't do?"

The sharp edge of the photo cut open my cheek.

I didn't stop to think about the wound. I snatched up the photo, and the tears came pouring out.

In it, my mother was walking my little brother to school, her smile as bright as the sunlight, and the date printed in the corner was yesterday.

I pressed a hand to my chest and murmured, "It's not true. That day the hospital called and said my mom had been in a car accident, that they were fighting to save her and needed money right away."

Tristram stood, looking down at me, and his voice came out cold.

"Not one word out of your mouth do I believe now."

"You wanted to break up, didn't you? You've got your wish. Once you've donated the marrow for Desiree, I'll give you a breakup settlement."

The surgery went on for three full days.

The first time, the doctors said the transplant failed, and right after they did a second one.

I thought I would die in that freezing operating room. Somehow, in the end, I pulled through.

The day I was discharged, I went back to the mansion alone to get my luggage. Inside, a lavish party was underway, celebrating Desiree's recovery.

Tristram and his friends sat clustered together, laughing as they made me the joke.

"There's a reason the old saying goes that like should marry like. Someone like Angela Swanson, dragged up out of some poor backwater, she's got that cheapness bred into her bones. Greedy the second she sees money. That's not something you can fix."

"Don't ever say her name in front of me again. Just thinking about her makes me sick."

He said it with contempt, the way a man talks about garbage.

I stood outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, pressed a hand over my mouth, and started to cough.

Desiree saw me.

Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in and murmured something into Tristram's ear.

A moment later she pushed the door open and came clicking across the floor in her heels, the ruby necklace at her throat bright enough to hurt.

I lifted my head. My face was drained white from all the blood I'd lost.

Desiree held up a bank card and waved it in front of me.

"This is your breakup money, from Tristram. Guess how much is on it."

I pressed my lips together. I already had a good idea.

Desiree smiled, satisfied with herself.

"Three thousand dollars! Five years playing girlfriend to the Rowe heir, and all you walked away with is three thousand. God, Angela, you really are pathetic."

"But that's what you get for crossing me."

She let go of the card and it clattered to the floor.

My nails dug hard into my palms, and my heart hurt like someone had shoved a knife straight into it.

Five years ago, Tristram fell for me at first sight.

Back then I'd just clawed my way out of the mountains on my SAT scores, wearing patched clothes and a dated haircut, my English clumsy and accented. All of it drew mockery, and it left me self-conscious, quick to flinch.

But Tristram was willing to set aside everything about being the family's heir and chase me, hard, for half a year.

He tutored me in English himself, drove me to and from my part-time jobs, sat up by my bed through whole nights when I was sick.

He wore down every wall around my frozen heart with nothing but sincerity.

I never imagined that five years later, he'd end it with me like this.

I pressed a hand to my chest and crouched down to pick up the card, and the tears spilled over before I could stop them, landing on the back of my hand.

When I looked up, Tristram was standing in front of me. I hadn't heard him come.

I forced my spine straight and turned to go.

Behind me, Tristram said, coldly:

"Take the money and get out, Angela. Don't ever let me run into you again."

Something cold and hard flickered through my eyes.

I found the account I'd borrowed money from before and sent one message.

I'll marry you. But I have one condition. I want the Galloway family destroyed.