Chapter 3

Looking at Howard’s familiar face, my head spun.

"Why?" I screamed, my voice cracking. "I sold Scout to save your life! I’ve been working three jobs a day!"

"And you used my sacrifice to hang out with Chloe?"

Chloe burst into a mocking laugh.

"Oh, Bella. You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"Did you honestly think Howard needed your pathetic $300,000?"

She wrapped her arm around Howard’s, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Let me introduce him properly. The man standing in front of you is the sole heir to the Wilmot Group, and the actual owner of this very club."

I froze.

The Wilmot Group. They were the mega-corporation that monopolized the entire equestrian industry in North America.

Howard looked at me, showing no remorse. Instead, he looked relieved, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Chloe’s right, Bella. I don’t need your money."

"I only hid my identity and went to that trashy suburban ranch to study the operational model of low-end stables."

"And, of course, to find a free, highly skilled trainer to break Scout in."

"Your $300,000 wouldn't even buy the cufflinks on my suit."

Every word he spoke felt like a dagger to my chest.

Three years ago, right before the national championships, someone cut my saddle girth. I fell, and my hand was ruined.

We later found out Chloe had bribed the stable boy, but her family was too powerful, and they got a scapegoat to take the fall.

I lost my career. I was forced to retreat to the countryside to survive with my Grandpa Charles and Scout.

Then, Howard showed up.

He played the part of a struggling, penniless traveler. He mucked stalls for me, brewed my herbal teas, and swore he didn't care about my disability. He promised to protect me forever.

Last month, a group of terrifying men broke into the ranch, holding a knife to Howard’s throat.

To save him, I swallowed my pride and sold Scout to a mysterious private buyer.

It turned out that buyer was Howard all along.

It was all a sick, twisted game.

I looked at Howard, my body trembling violently.

"You knew Chloe destroyed my hand. You knew what Scout meant to me!"

"You lied to me from day one? You treated me like a joke?"

Howard frowned, a look of pure disgust flashing in his eyes.

"Bella, stop playing the victim."

"Chloe is an heiress. It's an honor for Scout to belong to her."

"As for you... look at yourself."

"You smell like horse manure, and your hands are covered in ugly calluses and scars."

"Every time I had to hold your hand, it made my skin crawl."

"How could a girl like you ever think she was worthy of standing next to me?"

A physical pain stabbed through my heart.

The calluses I got from working day and night to keep us afloat, the scars I got from cooking his meals...

To him, they were just disgusting marks of poverty.

Chloe raised her chin proudly.

"Howard and I are getting engaged next month. Scout is his engagement gift to me."

"Have some self-respect, Bella. Go back to the gutter where you belong."

I looked at Scout. He was pacing nervously, chained up.

I tried to run over to unchain him, but Howard kicked me hard in the back of my knee.

I collapsed heavily onto the sand.

"Get out. Don't dirty my arena."

Howard threw those cold words over his shoulder as he walked toward the VIP lounge, holding Chloe's hand.

Two burly security guards rushed in, grabbed me by my arms, and dragged me out of the club.

They threw me onto the hard pavement of the street. My palms were scraped raw, dripping blood.