Chapter 2

I found Izzy at her small, rented apartment, the one she said was all she could afford.

Her eyes were wide, feigning concern when she saw my face.

"Ethan, what's wrong? You look terrible."

I couldn't form words. I just pulled out the thick envelope of cash.

"It's for your debt," I managed, my voice hoarse. "Fifty thousand."

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose.

"Oh, Ethan! You did it! But... how?"

"My dad," I said, the words catching in my throat. "He... he helped."

I didn't say he was dead. I couldn't.

She took the money, her fingers brushing mine.

"Thank you, Ethan. You don't know what this means to me."

I knew what it meant to me. It meant my father was gone.

A few days later, I was working a catering gig. My side hustle.

It was at a huge, lavish party. Vance Industries. The name meant nothing to me then.

I carried a small, plain box. My father' s ashes. He' d asked for a simple farewell, no fuss, no expensive urn.

I needed him with me.

I was refilling champagne flutes near a secluded balcony.

Then I heard her voice. Izzy's.

And a man's, smooth and arrogant. Liam Astor. Her "childhood friend."

"He actually passed the hardship test, Izzy. Impressive, for a line cook."

My blood turned to ice.

Izzy laughed, a light, carefree sound that made my stomach churn.

"I told you he was devoted, Liam. Now for the wealth test."

Wealth test?

"If he isn't a gold digger after I tell him who I really am, then I'll marry him. He' s earned it."

I clutched the box of my father's ashes.

The champagne flute slipped from my other hand, shattering on the marble floor.

They didn't hear it.

My father' s life, his sacrifice, was a game. A test.

The love I felt for Izzy, the future I imagined, it all crumbled into dust, just like the ashes in the box.

It was a cruel, sick joke.

And my father was the punchline.