His Ledger Could Not Buy Me

The day he walked out, my fianc slammed a heavy financial ledger onto the coffee table, calling me greedy and ungrateful.

The reason? I had asked to withdraw thirty-three thousand dollarsthe exact amount I needed to buy back my mother's vintage Gibson guitar.

Hed sneered, crushing the last shred of my hope. Sadie, those hands are for scrubbing floors, not strumming chords. Why on earth would you buy that?

Besides, he added, his voice chillingly practical, thirty-three thousand? If I sold everything you own, it wouldnt cover half of that.

Later, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I took the fifteen thousand dollars he offered and sold myself into a marriage of convenience with the Maxwell family across town.

Their son, Cullen, was rumored to be... slow. An eccentric. But it didn't matter.

He promised me that if I agreed to marry him, he would pluck the moon from the sky for me.

I didn't want the moon.

I just wanted that guitar.

Gary Harrington called me into his home office for a final lecture before he left on his business trip.

The cause of his annoyance was my unforgivable audacity: asking to borrow thirty-three thousand dollars.

The manager at the Downtown Pawn Shop had reached out. Someone was sniffing around the rare vintage Gibsonthe only physical thing I had left of my motherand it was going up for auction the day after tomorrow.

Panic had driven me to ask. I had spent the entire winter working three miserable jobs, scrubbing floors and washing linens for high-end clubs. My hands were cracked and bleeding, and all I had managed to save was barely a thousand dollars.

I had no other choice but to ask Gary.

He took the handwritten promissory note I offered, meticulously logging it in his ledger, but he refused to hand over the cash.

He didn't even look up. Sadie, thirty-three thousand could buy you twice over. Stop dreaming.

I left the Harrington mansion, wiping my eyes, and ran straight into Auntie May, the neighborhoods most well-connected matchmaker.

Auntie May took one look at my red, tear-streaked eyes and clucked her tongue, slapping her own thigh in exasperation. The Maxwells are serious, sweetheart. I told you, theyll pay any price. Forget money; if you asked for the stars, that family would hire a crew to build a ladder!

I sniffled, the echoes of Garys words still stinging.

Youre worthless.

I worried the Maxwells would feel the same way. I timidly held up three fingers. Auntie May, I dont want the stars or the moon.

I just want an old guitar. Thirty-three thousand dollars. Is that acceptable?

Auntie May was stunned.

She had expected me to demand trust funds, real estate, a new car.

Silly girl, what good is that pittance?

She poked my forehead in loving frustration. Youre about to become Mrs. Maxwell. Dont you want a nest egg? How will you survive?

I drew my head back.

I was afraid to ask for more.

Gary had always told me I was a liability. I was terrified that if I asked for too much, the Maxwells would follow Garys leadtheyd get disgusted and rescind the offer.

Auntie May sighed, about to leave, then paused. Does the Harrington boy know youre marrying Cullen Maxwell? If he gets upset and comes after you, I wont be able to hold him off.

I shook my head.

Dont worry, Auntie. Gary will be relieved to see me gone.

Six years ago, during the City Lights Festival, I saved Gary from a terrifying situationhed been cornered by a group of older teens.

As a gesture of "gratitude," the Harrington family paid fifteen thousand dollars to get me out of the terrible foster home I was living in.

Gary had been a wreck after the incident, traumatized and unable to sleep alone.

The expensive therapists and medication didn't help. Only when I sat by his bed, holding his hand, could he finally rest.

He used to whisper, Sadie, Im going to marry you. Youll be my wife, not a maid.

But then Gary recovered. He got his nerve back, and the family business exploded.

Ithe sixteen-year-old rescue who cost them fifteen thousandbecame an embarrassing fixture, an inconvenient liability in his gilded life.

Mrs. Harrington went from calling us "The Golden Couple" to sighing and suggesting the Harrington threshold was now "too high" for a girl like me to cross.

Whenever the subject of our engagement came up at dinner, Id just focus on my plate of plain rice, saying nothing.

Gary never defended me. Hed just condescendingly slide a piece of dry chicken onto my plate and smile coolly. Why the act? Your appetite is massive. Youre becoming an expensive burden.

I thought he was struggling financially. I thought he genuinely believed my meager appetite was hurting his bottom line.

So I started rationing.

Two small meals a day, no meat, and I wore the same patched-up coat until it was threadbare.

Gary was a born businessman, with an eidetic memory for numbers. He kept a perfect record of my expenses while I lived there.

The price of groceries has skyrocketed, clothing costs are upthis marriage is a net loss for the Harringtons.

His words made my stomach clench.

I figured if I ate one less bite, the Harringtons would lose a little less money.

That was until I saw my mothers guitar at the pawn shop two weeks ago.

I carefully wrote out a legal agreement, calculated the interest, and finally went to Gary.

The family jet was waiting on the tarmac for his flight to the coast.

Gary held the promissory note, his brow furrowed as if it were a complex math problem. Sadie Reed, you can barely write your name. Why are you suddenly pretending to be cultured?

I offered a pathetic, hopeful smile. If my mother were alive, she would have taught me.

Your mothers dead, Gary cut me off, his voice impatient. Hiring a music tutor costs money. Where does that land on the ledger?

I swallowed the words I already know how to play.

Thirty-three thousand is too expensive.

Gary folded the note and tucked it into his jacket. He looked at my hands, chapped and red like frozen carrots, and his tone softened slightly. Im a businessman. That guitar isnt worth the asking price. Lets talk when I get back from the West Coast.

When you get back, it will be gone.

Desperate, I grabbed the sleeve of his expensive blazer and blurted out a half-truth.

Auntie May brought me an offer. The Maxwells will pay for the guitar as a dowry. I... I havent said yes yet.

Gary stopped flipping through his travel documents.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine like hooks. Oh? If its better for both you and the Harringtons, then why haven't you left?

Before I could explain, he stood up and walked out.

The glass beads on the door curtain clattered violently behind him, each noise a slap across my face.

The next day, Auntie May arrived to pick me up. It was spitting rain.

I had lived in the Harrington house for six years, but my belongings fit into a single duffel bag.

Gary was gone. Mrs. Harrington was "napping" and didn't show her face.

Only Lila, the longtime family housekeeper, saw me off, wiping her eyes. Mr. Cullen is a wild card, child. He doesnt have the young masters business sense. Sadie, youre in for a hard time.

I pulled my patched-up coat tight and smiled at Lila. Its okay, Lila. Im already used to hardship.

My life was like this old coat. Once youre down to the bare thread, it cant get much worse.

What will the young master say when he returns and finds you gone?

A bittersweet feeling swelled in my chest.

I was marrying someone else. That meant I was saving the Harringtons money on food, clothing, and a dowry.

Gary would be proud of my financial sense. He would finally see me as an asset.

Garys yacht cut through the water, heading south.

He was on the deck taking a call when a shout came from a neighboring, equally luxurious vessel.

Harrington! Get over here! Come share a drink! It wont hurt your bottom line!

It was Ben Wallace, an old childhood friend.

Their families had been close business associates, but they hadn't seen each other much since Ben's family moved to the coast.

The two boats tied up, and the men shared several rounds of expensive whiskey.

Ben, a friendly man with a wide smile, still looked nervous when he brought up the past.

Those people were monsters, man. They only went after soft city kids like us. If we hadnt been so damn lucky to run into those girls, wed have been goners.

The moon hung in the sky, cold and distant.

Gary tightened his grip on the glass, silent.

Six years ago, he was terrified.

Hed been starved for days, beaten for a week, and his leg was broken.

The exploiters had tossed him a beat-up cup and told him to beg.

Gary lay on the cold pavement, gazing up at the indifferent moon.

Then, a little girl had knelt beside him and simply stared.

When no one was looking, she pulled a piece of stale bread from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. Eat fast. This is all I have left.

It was eight-year-old Sadie.

Thirteen-year-old Gary was too terrified to take it.

Were you kidnapped, too?

Where are your parents?

Are you mute?

Sadie rubbed her frozen, chapped hands. My mom said never to go with strangers. But Mom died, and I was looking for her, and they tricked me.

They said theyd take me to her. It was all a lie.

Hearing the word "Mom" broke thirteen-year-old Gary. He started sobbing uncontrollably.

Sadie memorized his name and the Harrington address and told him to wait.

Seven days later, she returned with Garys desperate parents.

To evade the exploiters, she had slept in barns, crawled through fences, and begged her way across two state lines to find help.

Gary remembered the moment Sadie burst in, covered in mud and grime, but with eyes that shone with terrifying brightness.

See? I told you I could save you!

Those eyes were brighter than the moon tonight.

The Harringtons paid fifteen thousand dollars to bring Sadie home.

Gary had clutched her hand, swearing, Sadie isnt a servant. Shes my wife. My real wife!

But a vow, Gary learned, has a painfully short shelf life.

Ben was slurring his words now. Oh, man, I still think about the girl who saved meTess. She was skinny and tough as nails. Ugly, frankly. I swore if my parents tried to make me marry her, Id run away from home!

Gary offered a weary smile.

Yes, gratitude was one thing. Marriage was another.

Who wants to marry a country girl from the wrong side of the city?

Just then, a young woman emerged from the cabin.

She was dressed in sharp designer clothes, gold and silver jewelry chiming with every step. She looked expensive and authoritative.

She put her hands on her hips, her brows furrowed, and marched over to Ben, grabbing his ear. You fat drunk! How much did you drink?

Ben, who had just been bragging, instantly crumbled, falling to his knees and pleading. Wifey, Im sorry! It was Gary! He forced me to drink it!

Gary stared, stunned.

The woman was dressed lavishly, but her eyes and jawline were unmistakable.

It was Tess.

Far from being dismissed, Ben had obviously spoiled her. Her skin was soft, and she looked healthy and vibrantno trace of the poor girl Gary remembered.

Her outfit alone was worth thousands of dollars.

Tess spotted Gary and her eyes lit up. Oh, Mr. Harrington! Is Sadie with you? Did you two finally get married? Why didn't you bring her so we could say hello?

Garys hand tightened around the glass.

Sadie wasn't with him.

She was wearing a patched-up coat and had asked him, with frozen hands and tears, for thirty-three thousand dollars.

Ben, sobered by the mood, gently pushed Tesss hand away. Leaning on the railing, he spoke the truth in his heart.

Honestly, Gary, Ive always been jealous of you. Youre smarter, and your business is bigger. The girl who saved you was even prettier than my Tess.

But watching Tess wear nice clothes, yelling at me whenever she wants... I feel like a success.

My wife is well cared for. That proves Im the man I think I am.

The wind over the water seemed to cut through Garys buzz.

He watched Ben and Tess playfully argue, and a sudden, sharp emptiness hit him.

Thirty-three thousand dollars.

To the current Harrington empire, it was the cost of a mediocre dinner.

Yet he had thrown it in the face of the one person who risked everything to save him, driving her to a desperate choice.

Gary put down the whiskey glass and called over his personal assistant, Stewart.

Send an immediate wire home. Tell the estate manager to go to the pawn shop and buy that guitar.

Stewart, ever the meticulous assistant, instinctively pulled out the small leather-bound ledger. Sir, should I log this expense under Miss Sadies account, as usual?

Looking at the densely written columns, Gary felt a sudden, violent stab in his gut.

...No. Dont log it.

From now on, none of her expenses are to be logged.

When I get back to the city, Im going to go and get her.