HER SECRET,HIS BETRAYAL

CHAPTER 8:

I didn’t sleep much. Not because of Brad shouting or doors slamming, last night he passed out early, sprawled across the couch like he owned the place. Not because of nightmares either, though those always linger somewhere behind my ribs. No. I didn’t sleep because of the money. The thousand dollars sitting on my dresser didn’t feel real. I kept counting it, splitting it into neat stacks like some kid pretending to be rich. Five hundred straight into my savings the moment the app loaded. The other five hundred I set aside for my car, the one that died months ago and has been sitting in the apartment’s back lot like a grave marker of all the things I couldn’t afford to fix.

For once, I felt… almost hopeful. A dangerous feeling. By the time I finally drifted off, the sun was already rising. And naturally, I overslept. When I opened my eyes and saw the time, I nearly stopped breathing. My phone was still dead. Brad hadn’t bothered waking me, not that he ever did. I raced through brushing my teeth, threw on the first clean-ish shirt I found, shoved my hair into a clip, grabbed my bag, and sprinted out the door like my life depended on it.

By the time I got to the diner, I was sweating and out of breath. Denise stood behind the counter with her arms crossed, wearing her usual unimpressed expression. “I’m sorry,” I blurted before she could even look up. “I woke up late and my phone—” She cut me off with a raised eyebrow. “Someone’s been waiting for you.” My heart stuttered. “Waiting… for me?” She tilted her head toward the corner booth. And there he was. Zane. Calm. Sharp. Out of place in this small diner but somehow fitting anyway. He looked up right as I did, and for a second the rest of the diner just… blurred out.

I swallowed and forced my “customer service” smile onto my face.My coworker, Jessica nudged my shoulder as I passed. “Girl, he’s been here for thirty minutes. And he is fine.” “Shut up,” I hissed without looking at her. I walked over to him, trying to act like my chest wasn’t doing weird somersaults. “Well,” I said, stopping at his table. “You again.” “You’re late,” he said quietly. “Oh. Good morning. And thank you so much for announcing my flaws in public.” His mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile. “Long night?” “You have no idea.”

His eyes flicked briefly to my cheekbone. The bruise I tried to hide was still visible if someone looked closely enough. His jaw tightened, and I pretended not to notice. “So,” I said quickly, “here for coffee?” “I already ordered.”

He paused. “Did you use the money?” I felt my breath catch. “Yeah. I… I put some away. And thank you. Seriously.” “It was nothing.” “It was a thousand dollars,” I muttered. He shrugged like the number meant nothing. “Still nothing.” I snorted, surprised at myself. “You’re unbelievable.” “I get that a lot.” And I laughed. A real one. It slipped out before I could smother it. His eyes softened. “You should do that more.” “Do what?” “Laugh like that.” I looked away because I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my face.

Then he reached into his jacket pocket. “I got you something.” I blinked. “Why?” “Open it.” The box was small, elegant. The kind of thing rich women casually carried in glossy shopping bags. I opened it slowly. A bracelet. Chanel. Real. Beautiful. My chest tightened. “I can’t take this.” “It’s for you,” he said simply. “If you ever need to sell it, sell it. If not, keep it.” “That’s—this is too much.” “It’s not.”He leaned back in his seat. “Just don’t let anyone dull your spark.” Spark. Me. I couldn’t look at him.

Before I could think of a response, he stood up and left another $100 under his cup. Then he nodded at me and walked out, clean and quiet like some scene from a movie that didn’t belong in my life. Jessica appeared beside me instantly. “So how long have you been in love with him?”. I nearly hit her with the coffee pot.The rest of the day passed in a blur. Orders, dishes, Jessica teasing me. My mind kept drifting back to the bracelet, the money, the way he looked at me like he actually saw something worth noticing.

Inferno that night felt routine. Stage lights, fake smiles, Ava popping into the dressing room every hour to check on me, like always. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and just wanted silence. Brad was on the couch watching TV, not even glancing at me until I stepped into the room. “You got money for me?” he asked. “No,” I said immediately. “Nothing tonight.”

He finally turned his head, and his eyes locked on the glistening bracelet around my wrist. “What’s that?” he demanded. “A… gift,” I said cautiously. “From a customer.” “A gift? That thing looks expensive.” His voice sharpened. “What’d you do to get it? Sleep with him?” The air in my lungs disappeared. “No,” I said quickly. “I didn’t.” “He wouldn’t give you something like that unless he got something back.” He stood up now, looming. “If he likes you that much, then start using him. Ask him for money.” “No.”

The room went still. “What did you just say?” “I said no.” The slap came fast. Not graphic. Not bloody. But enough to sting hard and leave my ears ringing. A metallic taste hit my tongue. I swallowed it down. “Fine,” I whispered. “Okay.” Because sometimes survival meant bending so you didn’t break.

Later, in bed, facing the wall, the bracelet still on my wrist, I let myself cry. Quietly. Carefully. Into the pillow so Brad wouldn’t hear. I didn’t cry because of the slap. I cried because for a few hours today…

I almost believed I could have a better life. And that hope scared me more than anything else.