Chapter 3

Charisse knew he did it on purpose. She raised her hand and swung at him without thinking. Elliot caught her wrist effortlessly—cold. Now that things had calmed down a bit, he finally noticed: her hand was freezing, way too cold for summer. Charisse shoved at him, using both hands and her whole body, her voice sharp with anger. "Elliot, you're still the same jerk!" To Elliot, her anger only meant one thing—she cared. The more pissed she got, the more it proved she still gave a damn about that useless boyfriend of hers. "What, scared now?" he let out a low chuckle. "If you had the guts to do it, why be afraid of people knowing?" "I'm done talking to you." Charisse's tone was laced with frustration. "Can I leave now?" No response. She scoffed, throwing the question right back at him. "What, Mr. Grant wants to go for round two? If you keep pulling this, I'm gonna think you're still hung up on me." Elliot laughed coldly. "You really think I wanted to kiss you just now? Don't flatter yourself. It was just... heat of the moment. Old feelings?" He looked at her with disdain, "There's nothing left between us—get over it." After tossing those words at her, he turned and walked into the inner room without a second glance. Charisse gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. What he said wasn't even close to the worst she'd ever heard. After her family went bankrupt, she'd heard stuff ten times more brutal. She thought she'd toughened up. Clearly, not enough. It's fine. She tried to convince herself it wasn't a big deal. At least she'd earned five million out of it—enough to cover her dad's medical bills for now. She headed to the staff lounge first to change her clothes before walking out to the hotel lobby. Owen spotted her and dashed over, anxious. "Charisse, why'd you text me like that? Was it something I did?" Charisse kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze. "It's not you, Owen. You've been great. We're just... not right for each other." "Not right? Is it because of my mom? Don't worry about that—I've started trying to talk her around. I promise, I'll make her accept us. Let's get married next year. No, this year. This year, okay?" Owen was trying so hard not to push her, keeping his voice soft, like any extra pressure might make her crack. Charisse took a deep breath and looked at him. "Owen, I... I fell for someone else." She just couldn't bring herself to explain what happened tonight. When Owen noticed the cut on her lip, his expression froze. Color drained from his face, and he almost lost his balance. "I'm sorry." Charisse bit down on her lip, reopening the cut there again. The sting was sharp, but she kept her voice steady. "Owen, thank you for everything—especially covering my dad's medical bills. I'll pay you back." "Who is it?" Owen grabbed her wrist, not letting her leave. His eyes were rimmed red, hurt and confusion tangled in his voice. "Just tell me. Who is he? Who the hell is it?" "I'm sorry." "Tell me!" Owen suddenly shouted. "Who?!" Heads turned across the hotel lobby. Even Elliot, just stepping out of the private elevator, paused and looked over. "Owen, don't be like this," Charisse said, guilt twisting in her chest at his reaction. "Come on, calm down. You know we don't work. Your mom's not wrong—my family's bankrupt, we're in debt, my dad's stuck in the hospital for who knows how long, and on top of that..." She took a breath before continuing, "I've got a record. My law license was revoked. I'm just working in a hotel now. Your family's well-off, they care about reputation. The truth is, they'd never accept me. Owen, we just don't have a future." "But none of that's your fault!" Owen's voice cracked, his anger sinking into raw desperation. "The bankruptcy had nothing to do with you, and the time in jail—I've been looking into that. I know you're innocent, Charisse. I'll clear your name. Please... don't push me away." He wasn't yelling anymore, just pleading, like all his strength had drained away. Charisse gently reached up and ruffled his messy curls. "Take care of yourself, okay?" Owen's eyes were completely red now, tears threatening to fall. Charisse softly slipped her hand out of his grasp and walked away. Outside, in the parking lot, she spotted his car—a plain white compact, barely worth ten grand. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the first time she'd met Owen, when he pulled up in a flashy yellow sports car, revved the engine right past her, then came back around and asked, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I drive by again?" Since then, he'd done so much for her. Paid her dad's hospital bills, chased away loan sharks, kept things together for her when everything was falling apart. He'd burned through money like it was nothing, until his parents cut him off—froze his cards, stopped his cash. So, he sold his house, his car, even his sneakers... all for her. Charisse owed him. A lot. And even if tonight hadn't happened, she'd already made up her mind not to drag him down with her anymore. Every cent he spent on her, she'd written down. Someday, she'd pay him back. Slowly but surely. As she turned around, she spotted him through the hotel's tall, gleaming window—still standing there, shoulders slumped, looking like a kicked puppy, all lost and heartbroken. Not far behind him stood a tall figure—Elliot. Even with that distance between them, Charisse could feel it—he was watching her.