The music was too loud at Bella Hayes' s staff gala.
My girlfriend, Bella, was across the room, laughing, owning the whole chain.
I was her sous-chef, our love a secret.
Then Julian Vance, Bella' s childhood friend who always looked like he sniffed something bad, cornered me.
He accused me, loudly, of stealing his vintage designer watch.
He ripped open my bag, scattering my mother' s medical bills across the polished floor for everyone to see.
"Motive," he sneered.
Bella, the woman I loved, walked over, her eyes cold.
She told me to "let it go," publicly hinting my "moment of desperation" explained it all.
She thought I was guilty.
Her words hit harder than any punch.
This public betrayal later led to my sick mother collapsing, in desperate need of expensive, specialized treatment.
How could Bella, who claimed to love me, so easily believe I was a thief?
How could she watch me be publicly shamed, then abandon me when my mother and I needed her most?
I was innocent, but trapped and desperate.
In my deepest despair, Julian offered me the money for my mother' s treatment-if I disappeared from New York and Bella' s life, forever.
I accepted, my pride swallowed.
But hours later, a phone call.
An IT guy, guilt-ridden, sent me security footage Julian missed.
It showed everything: Julian planting the watch in my bag.
My mother was my priority then, but justice?
New York thought it broke me.
They were wrong.
I was just getting started.