My Rockstar Boyfriend Ruined My Future for His Other Girl

The freezing wind hit my face the moment I stepped through the revolving doors of the bank.

Down at the curb, Chase’s black Cadillac Escalade was still idling. The passenger door stood slightly ajar, and Madison was leaning against the tinted window, wearing a pastel pink miniskirt that barely covered her thighs. She hummed a pop melody while carefully reapplying gloss to her lips.

Chase caught sight of me in the side mirror. When he turned and saw my tear-streaked face, there wasn't a trace of guilt in his expression.

He rolled down his window and chuckled. "Look at that. You finished way faster than I expected."

My voice cracked against the cold. "You stole my passport, Chase."

"Oh, come on. Since you already missed the check-in, there's no point in crying over spilt milk," he said smoothly, unlocking the doors with a click. "Hop in. Let's head to the theme park. It'll help you unwind."

I gripped the strap of my empty leather folder, my knuckles turning bone-white. "Do you have any idea what I gave up for this? Eight months. Five hours of sleep a night. I gave up everything to prepare for this morning, and you destroyed it for a joke."

Chase let out a dismissive sigh. "Real talent doesn't crumble over a single hiccup, Evelyn. If you were truly cut out for high finance, one missed interview wouldn't ruin your life. The Street eats people alive. I was just giving you a taste of how brutal the world actually is."

Before I could speak, Madison leaned across the center console and poked her head out the window. She waved a thick manila envelope and my navy blue passport in the air with a playful wink.

"Relax, Evie. We kept everything safe for you," she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Honestly, you should thank us for teaching you something money can't buy."

I stepped forward and snatched the documents out of her manicured hand. My fingertips trembled so hard I nearly dropped them onto the dirty pavement.

Every instinct urged me to turn around and walk away forever. But my wallet was sitting on the kitchen counter in Chase’s penthouse across the river, my transit card was inside it, and my phone screen flashed red with a three percent battery warning. I didn't even have five dollars left for subway fare after paying for the cab.

Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I pulled open the rear door and climbed inside. I just needed to get close to his apartment, grab my things, and leave.

The blast of cold air hit me immediately. The vehicle’s climate control was dialed down to sixty degrees.

Madison shivered theatrically, wrapping her bare arms around her torso. "Chase, babe, it's freezing. You know how easily I catch a chill."

Without missing a beat, Chase reached into the back seat and retrieved a soft ivory cashmere blanket. He shook it out and gently draped it over Madison's bare legs, tucking the edges beneath her knees with practiced tenderness.

My throat tightened.

Just last month, I had ridden in this exact car with a hundred-and-two-degree fever, shivering uncontrollably. When I begged him to turn up the heat, Chase had rolled his eyes, telling me I was being overly sensitive and needed to adapt to real-world conditions instead of expecting everyone to cater to my weaknesses.

Madison glanced back at me, holding the corner of the cashmere fabric between two fingers. "Do you want some, Evie?"

Before I could answer, Chase placed his hand over hers, his voice soft and protective. "Keep it, Maddie. She's wearing a blazer."

Madison smiled, popping open a foil bag of cheddar chips. She picked one up and held it to Chase's lips. "Say ah."

Chase leaned sideways from the steering wheel and ate it straight from her fingers. When a few orange crumbs scattered onto his leather steering wheel, he didn't flinch. He just laughed, reached over, and gently wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

A sickening weight settled in my chest.

Two years ago, during finals week, I had eaten a single saltine cracker in his passenger seat to keep from fainting from low blood sugar. Chase had slammed on the brakes, ordered me out onto the shoulder of the highway, and made me use a lint roller on the floor mats before he would let me back inside.

Four years of devotion, and I had been blind to every single red flag.

By the time we arrived at the theme park, the midday sun beat down relentlessly against the concrete plaza. The line for the signature roller coaster stretched around the block, packed with hundreds of noisy tourists.

We hadn't been standing there for ten minutes before Madison let out a soft groan, leaning heavily against Chase’s chest.

"My heels are killing me," she whined, lifting one pink pump. "Chase, I can't stand on this pavement anymore. It's torture."

Chase immediately wrapped an arm around her waist. Then he looked over his shoulder at me. "Evelyn, hold our spot in line. We’ll wait under the trees."

"What?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Chase, my lumbar spine has been flaring up all morning. The doctor told me not to stand stationary for extended periods. I can barely keep my balance."

His brow furrowed with sharp irritation. "You sat in a wooden chair at the university library for ten hours a day without complaining. Now you can't stand for twenty minutes to help a friend? Stop being so dramatic."

He didn't wait for my response. He guided Madison to a shady bench beneath an oak tree forty feet away. Kneeling directly on the dusty stones, he lifted her bare ankle into his lap and began massaging her heel with gentle, rhythmic strokes.

The crowd shuffled forward by inches. The midday heat bore down on my neck, making the navy wool of my suit feel like a suffocating trap. Black spots swam in my vision, and a sharp, throbbing ache radiated up my lower back.

My mouth tasted like dry dust. With my phone at one percent, I managed to send a quick text to Chase:

*Can you bring me a bottle of water? I feel faint.*

Two minutes later, the screen lit up with his response:

*No. Madison can't have cold drinks today, and I'm not leaving her side. Don't tempt her by drinking in front of her.*

The phone buzzed once more, then the screen went completely black. Dead.

A dizzy spell washed over me. My knees buckled, and I had to grab the metal railing beside the queue to keep from crashing to the ground.

"Excuse me? Miss?"

A gentle voice broke through the haze. A woman standing in front of me, holding the hand of a small girl with pigtails, was looking at me with deep concern.

"You're completely pale," she said, quickly digging into her tote bag. She pulled out an unopened bottle of chilled mineral water and pressed it into my shaking palms. "Here, drink this. Do you need me to call the park medics?"

The cool plastic felt like a lifeline against my burning skin.

I unscrewed the cap with trembling fingers, took two greedy swallows, and felt hot tears blur my sight.

A total stranger could see that I was suffering and offered immediate kindness. Yet the man who had promised to stand by me through everything didn't care if I collapsed on the concrete, as long as Madison was comfortable.

It took another hour and fifteen minutes to shuffle to the front of the queue.

When I finally reached the turnstile, I borrowed a park attendant's landline phone and dialed Chase’s private number.

It rang three times before he answered. Loud, upbeat lounge music played in the background, mixed with the murmur of upscale shoppers.

"Chase? Where are you?" I asked, leaning my aching body against the counter. "I'm at the front of the line. You can come over now."

Chase let out an impatient scoff over the line. "We left twenty minutes ago. Madison decided she didn't want to ride anymore. We're at the designer mall down the street looking at bags."

My breath caught in my chest. "You left? Without telling me?"

"You're an adult, Evelyn. Figure out how to get home."

The line went dead.

I stood there, listening to the monotonous hum of the dial tone.

The park attendant looked at me with pity. "Ma'am? Do you want to board the ride?"

"No," I whispered, setting the receiver down on the cradle. "Thank you."

I turned away from the entrance and limped toward the guest services lounge. My back throbbed with every step, but the tears had stopped completely. The blinding haze that had clouded my judgment for four years had finally burned away.

Inside the lounge, I found a charging station and plugged my dead phone into an available cord.

After two minutes, the screen blinked to life.

I ignored Chase’s contact icon and opened my personal email app.

Three days ago, a message had landed in my inbox from a world-renowned investment fund based in Mayfair, London. They had offered me an entry-level analyst position in their global equities division, bypassing the standard interview pool based on my performance in the university stock pitch competition.

The offer had a strict deadline: reply by midnight tonight.

I had planned to decline it. Chase had insisted that his national tour required me to stay on the East Coast to manage his schedule and keep him company on the road.

I stared at the screen for three seconds.

Then, with a steady finger, I tapped the blue link and hit *ACCEPT OFFER*.

The screen instantly refreshed to a bright confirmation page:

*Welcome to the team, Evelyn. Your relocation package and flight itinerary to London Heathrow have been generated. Travel date: November 24th.*

Ten days from today.

A banner notification dropped from the top of the screen.

It was an Instagram alert from Chase’s verified account.

A newly posted photo filled the display. It was a selfie of him and Madison in a VIP lounge, their cheeks pressed together as she held up three shopping bags from Chanel. Chase was grinning at the camera, his arm draped possessively over her bare shoulder.

The caption read:

*Best day with my favorite girl.*