In our past life, I had promised Natalie two gold accessories every month. But my financial burden was heavy. To save money, I bought her real gold—but for myself, I bought high-quality fakes to keep up appearances.
The drawer had been full of that fake gold.
She claimed she didn't want my "bad karma" affecting her, yet she had broken into my home to loot me. The drawer was wiped clean. She hadn't left a single link.
The last shred of sentiment I held for her evaporated.
It was laughable.
I wondered what expression she would make when she discovered her "fortune" was worthless brass.
That night, a heavy fist pounded against my door. The frame shook with the force of the blows.
"Evan Dickerson! You dared to play me?"
The noise was deafening. Not wanting the neighbors to call the police, I yanked the door open.
Natalie lunged at me, grabbing my shirt. "You knew the gold was fake! Why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was at the pawnshop?"
I looked at her with icy indifference. "You broke into my home to steal, and you think you have the moral high ground?"
She stared at me in disbelief. Then she shoved me, her manicured nails digging into my chest.
"I was with you for two years! Those things should have been mine anyway!" she screeched. "The market price is 480,000. Pay me back! Not a penny less!"
She was strong in her fury. Her nails tore through the fabric of my shirt, raking across skin. A sharp sting bloomed across my chest.
I looked down at her hand. Mockery danced in my eyes.
That manicure cost 1,999—half a month of my living expenses at the time. She had demanded it, and I had transferred the money without hesitation. Over two years, I had spent at least 100,000 on her. My life had been an endless loop of work and sleep, saving every cent, only to have her act like this.
Even knowing her true nature, the reality of her greed still turned my stomach.
"Aren't you trying to latch onto a rich heir?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why not let Carter spend money on you? Or does he not think you're worth the price?"
Her breath hitched.
She raised her hand and slapped me across the face.
*Smack.*
My head snapped to the side. My cheek burned. When she raised her hand to strike again, I caught her wrist mid-air and delivered a sharp backhand across her face.
"Enough!" I roared. "Natalie, get out. Don't make me throw you out."