From Poker Chip to Sterling BrideFrom Poker Chip to Sterling Bride

The next day, when I found Bryce, he was in a meeting with several venture capitalists.

Brimming with confidence, he was painting a grand vision for his company.

"Aren't you going to give me an explanation?" I demanded, my voice like ice.

Bryce glanced back at me and laughed.

"Julian Sterling has been eyeing our project. All I had to do was give you to him for one night in exchange for a truce and a fifty-million-dollar investment."

He sneered.

"Isn't that a hell of a deal?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I slapped him hard across the face.

But the slap only seemed to provoke him.

He touched his stinging cheek, and his smile grew even more vile.

"Avery, I said I would give you a home. No matter what happened in your past, I'll still buy that apartment."

"But if you keep making a scene, I have no problem putting the apartment on hold for another year."

His tone was so condescending.

After all, until now, I was the one desperate for a home.

I grew up in foster care, consumed by an insecurity that made me desperate for a place to finally call my own.

But in Bryce's eyes, that just made me easy to control.

The last time he'd postponed buying the apartment we had our eyes on was because Chloe had cried, claiming I'd cursed at her and pushed her down.

If he had just checked the cafe's surveillance footage, he would have seen the truth.

Chloe had thrown herself to the ground. She had been pestering and provoking me, and when I ignored her, she resorted to slander.

Before I could even explain, Bryce believed her unconditionally.

"Avery, you've gone too far! Chloe is so innocent, how could you push her?"

"Go apologize to her right now, or you can forget about our house!"

I had done nothing wrong, so of course, I refused to apologize.

And just like that, the house was put on hold.

But now, I understood the chilling clarity of not being loved.

Forget the house.

I didn't even want him anymore.

By the time I came to my senses, Bryce was long gone. When I finally composed myself, I typed out a text and sent it to him:

"Let's break up."

A long time later, he replied with two perfunctory words, "As you wish."

I smiled bitterly and turned off my phone.

I found myself at the food truck park we used to frequent, wandering aimlessly.

Back in college, Bryce said he didn't have money for fancy restaurants, so he often brought me here.

Five-dollar burritos, seven-dollar cheese fries, and three-dollar lemonade.

We were broke, but I'd never felt richer.

Five years after graduation, Bryce had become a new-money tech mogul.

He could buy me designer bags worth thousands of dollars and treat me to hundred-dollar dinners after fooling around with Chloe.

But he no longer loved me the way he had back then.

I remembered the first time he introduced me to Chloe.

He sat in his car, gazing at the girl in a pleated skirt and pigtails at the school gate, and said:

"She's a friend's younger sister, who just started school here. He asked me to look after her."

Later, his gaze on Chloe grew more and more intense. More and more tender.

One night, when he was drunk, he looked at Chloe's retreating back and chuckled.

"Avery, don't you think she looks just like you did five years ago?"

"So pure, so unstained."

Yes, she was so pure and flawless.

Not like me. Not the haggard, worn-out woman who’d pulled all-nighters designing his entire company headquarters for free. He didn't want the calculating, world-weary woman who had scraped by to build his empire.

But he forgot.

Who was it that turned me into this?

The burrito in my mouth tasted like cardboard. I stood in the cold wind, large tears falling one by one.

"Crying into your food won't make it taste any better."

Suddenly, a hand snatched the burrito away.

I turned my head in surprise to find Julian. He had been following me all this time, not too close, not too far.

He handed me a tissue and gently wiped away my tears.

I looked at him, dazed. "What are you doing here?"

Julian stared at me, his expression complicated.

"You agreed to be my girlfriend. Can't a guy take his girlfriend on a date?"

He slowly leaned closer, took my cold hand, and tucked it into his coat pocket.

"Or are you already thinking of backing out?"