The bank manager looked at me, professional calm masking his judgment.
"I'm sorry, sir, the transaction has been declined."
I knew why. The primary card on my account, the unlimited Black Card my parents had given me, was being bled dry by the two people I trusted most.
It wasn' t just the extravagant five-thousand-dollar handbags or the lavish weekend getaways. It was the crushing betrayal when I overheard them in Sarah' s apartment, my girlfriend laughing as my best friend, Mike, mocked my naivety.
"Liam is so boring. So naive. He just hands over his money like an idiot," Sarah giggled.
"He is an idiot," Mike' s voice oozed contempt. "But a useful one. As long as he keeps paying, you and I can have anything we want."
My world shattered. I stumbled away, heart pounding, the bitter taste of their deceit overwhelming me.
Two days later, at our usual campus coffee shop, I confronted them. Sarah' s face twisted in fury, Mike' s feigned concern turning to a calculated smear campaign. They gaslit me, painting me as the crazy, jealous boyfriend, publicly humiliating me until I ran.
That night, Mike lured me to a cliffside lookout. He pushed me. I remembered the sickening crunch of rocks as I fell, seen his empty eyes as he drove away. The police called it suicide.
But I wasn't dead. I was back. Waking up in my own bed, three weeks before my murder.
This time, the ending would be different. This time, I was in control.