Chapter 3

By the time I walked out of the salon, it was dark.

The bank sent a payment reminder. Next week: two thousand dollars.

My paycheck would have barely covered it. But now, I had less than five hundred in my account.

I went home.

Carter was standing at my door, holding a bag of fresh mangosteen — the kind I'd never let myself buy.

"Lora, you shouldn't be angry with me. I did it for your own good."

I stepped around him and kept my head down.

He sighed.

"I know I've let you down. These two years have been hard on you. But if you just trust me, I'll find you a decent job. Somewhere clean and respectable. You won't have to wash anyone's hair ever again."

Memories flickered past like a slideshow.

My back aching after twelve hours on my feet every day. A strain that never healed.

The day I collapsed and couldn't get up off the floor, the only thing running through my mind was: I can't afford to be hurt. If something happens to me, Carter is finished.

"Lora, I love you. Why else would I leave Christine to come find you? Isn't that enough?"

"You need to understand my situation. I wasn't trying to deceive you. If you had my status and my position in this world, you would've kept it hidden too. Think about it — if I'd told you from the start that I was the CEO of the Carter Group, would you have treated me the same way? You would've been after my money and my name."

He said all of this with complete sincerity.

As if he had spent two years lying to me, and somehow that was my fault.

He held out a business card.

A company address.

"Come find me here tomorrow."

My tears were pooling at the edges of my eyes. I bit down hard on my lip and held them in.

The next day, I went anyway.

I knew how wrong it was. I knew what kind of person he was. But I'd borrowed two hundred thousand dollars to pay off his debts.

If he walked away, I had no way to repay it.

The loan sharks had made it clear: if I couldn't pay, they'd take something else instead.

I didn't let myself think about what that meant.

The Carter Group.

The most impressive office tower in the city center.

Twelfth floor. Human Resources.

A middle-aged woman in glasses looked me up and down. "Lora?"

She pushed her frames up and her voice came out with an unmistakable edge of contempt. "Mr. Carter already briefed us. We're placing you in a janitorial position. Here's your badge. Report at seven tomorrow morning. You'll be responsible for floors eighteen through twenty."

Janitorial.

I thought I'd heard her wrong.

"He said... janitorial?"

"What, too good for it?" The woman gave a short, cold laugh. "No degree, no skills. You should be grateful we're giving you anything at all. Mr. Carter specifically requested this for you. Otherwise, do you think we'd just take anyone off the street?"

I gripped the badge so hard my nails pressed into the plastic.

First day on the job.

I showed up in a cleaning uniform, pushing a supply cart down the hallway, mopping the floor.

When I passed the elevators, the doors opened.

Christine stepped out on Carter's arm — designer everything, ten-centimeter heels.

She spotted me and blinked. "Lora? What are you doing here?"

She turned to Carter. "You got her a job?"

Carter's face was unreadable. "You kept saying you felt bad for her. Janitorial is all she qualifies for."

That afternoon, I was assigned to clean Carter's office.

I followed behind with my cart.

His office was on the top floor — floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire city.

When I pushed the door open, what I saw nearly made me sick.

Christine was lounging on the couch with her legs crossed.

"Sorry to bother you, Lora. Be a dear and clean up for us."

Carter sat behind his desk and didn't even look up.

I got down on my knees and started wiping the floor with a cloth.

The things I was wiping up clung to the rag. My eyes burned.

I was his girlfriend.

How could he make me clean up after him and another woman?

Christine suddenly spoke. "Carter, maybe give her a better position? Janitorial feels a little..."

"She can't do anything." Carter's voice was flat. "She's barely fit to sweep floors. Giving her this job was already more than enough."

His words hit like something sharp driven straight into my chest.

I kept my head down, finished the last section of floor, and walked out with my cart.

The moment the door closed behind me, my tears finally broke loose.