Escaping His Gilded Billionaire Cage

What is it really like to date a domineering billionaire? r/relationships

My boyfriend is old money, a third-generation heir to an empire. For the three years weve been together, Ive been holding my breath, walking on eggshells.

Today, in front of a crowd of people, he suddenly dropped to one knee and proposed.

I was so terrified, I turned and ran.

Because the truth is, I never loved him.

Every single day I spent with him, I was forced.

Three years ago, I bombed my SATs. In a moment of sheer, desperate panic, I auditioned for a brutal, televised pop-star boot camp run by a major record label.

Before I could even make my official debut, I caught the eye of the network's biggest backer.

His fixera man in a sharp suit with dead eyespulled me aside. He told me his boss wanted to "date" me.

I was completely out of my depth. Trembling, I went to my manager that night, begging for a way out.

My manager just sighed. She told me Cole Kensington had bottomless wealth and a ruthless reputation. He went through women like cheap champagne; the longest anyone had ever lasted was three months.

If I said no, Id be blacklisted. Id be hit with a breach-of-contract lawsuit that would drown my family in debt. My parents, my older brotherthey could lose their jobs, their homes. Wed be run out of Los Angeles.

Paralyzed by fear, I agreed to be his girlfriend.

Just grit your teeth for three months, I told myself. Itll be over before you know it.

But three years passed.

Cole not only didnt dump me, he apparently decided he wanted me for the rest of his life.

I fled the proposal site and didn't stop running until I reached Mias apartment in Silver Lake.

Over the past three years, Mia had quit the music management hustle to become a full-time novelist.

She blinked in shock when she opened her door and saw me gasping for air in her hallway.

"Wait, wasn't Cole supposed to propose to you today?"

"I said no." My face crumpled as the reality of what I had just done hit me. The potential fallout from rejecting Cole Kensington made my stomach turn to ice.

"Damn. You've got guts." Mia gave me a solemn thumbs-up.

She pulled me inside. My body had barely hit the cushions of her thrifted sofa when a sharp, authoritative knock echoed on the door.

Mia peeked through the peephole. "It's him," she whispered, her eyes wide.

I lay flat on the sofa, playing dead. My phone began to vibrate violently against the coffee table. It buzzed and buzzed until the sheer anxiety broke me. I slowly swiped to answer.

"Come out," a voice like liquid nitrogen commanded through the speaker.

"No." I tried to inject some spine into my voice, desperately wanting to prove I had boundaries.

"Come out. Don't make me ask a third time."

The quiet, lethal edge in his tone made my heart hammer against my ribs.

Mia looked at me with deep pity. "Maybe you should just go out there and talk to him. Clear the air."

I glared at her.

If I had the courage to clear the air with him, I wouldn't have been trapped in this gilded cage for three years.

"Hiding won't fix it," Mia coaxed gently.

Seeing the conflict on her face, I reluctantly dragged myself off the sofa and walked to the door.

In the dimly lit hallway, Cole stood radiating pure, unadulterated fury.

Before I could even open my mouth, his hand shot out, wrapping securely around my wrist. He practically dragged me into the elevator.

The ride down was suffocatingly silent. His jaw was locked tight. All the brave, articulate speeches I had rehearsed in my head evaporated into thin air.

Yes, I was terrified of him.

I had dated him for three years, and I had been terrified of him for three years.

He shoved me into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin, his face a mask of thunder, and drove like a demon straight back to our Bel Air estate.

In the manicured gardens, the extravagant floral arches and thousands of imported balloons he had arranged for the proposal were still waiting, swaying gently in the California breeze.

I couldn't bring myself to look at them. I kept my head down, staring intensely at the toe of my sneakers.

Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and backed me up against the cool stone wall of the entryway, trapping me with his arms on either side of my head.

"You don't want to marry me?" he demanded, his voice dropping an octave, his expression terrifyingly dark.

"No." I scraped together every ounce of courage I had and finally met his gaze.

For three years, I had barely dared to look him in the eye. But I had already ruined the proposal. I had nothing left to lose.

"If you won't marry me, who do you want?" He grabbed my chin, forcing my face up. "Jace?"

My stomach dropped again, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

"N-no. That's not it." Whatever teenage crush I had on Jace had died the moment I signed my life over to become Cole's girlfriend.

He brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then why?"

"Because I don't love you." I took a shaky breath, finally saying the words I had kept locked in my chest for a thousand days.

He froze. Then, a low, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "You didn't like the grand gesture? Is that it?"

I shook my head and bit my lip hard. "I don't love you."

Cole stared at me.

His pitch-black eyes were unnervingly still.

He was a breathtakingly handsome man. If you isolated his features, they were practically flawless. But put them all together, and there was an intensity to him that was fundamentally intimidating.

When his face went completely blank like this, it could make a grown man tremble.

Yet, under the crushing weight of his silent stare, a strange, reckless bravery bloomed inside me. I repeated it, practically signing my own death warrant. "I... I don't love you."

"Are you kidding me?" Cole let out a stiff, unnatural scoff. "If you didn't love me, how the hell did we date for three years?"

"I was forced," I said, my voice cracking, dropping so low I could barely hear myself.

But Cole heard it.

He looked at me with utter disbelief, his right hand slipping from my hair to mockingly trace my jawline. "If you didn't want to, who could possibly force you?"

"You did."

"When have I ever forced you?" Cole demanded, genuinely bewildered.

"You had your fixer corner me! You threatened me into dating you!" I accused, tears burning the back of my eyes.

The memories of three years ago flooded backmoving into this massive, empty mansion, lying awake every night in absolute terror, waiting for him to summon me. Knowing all that, how could I ever say yes to his proposal?

I wasn't a masochist. Why would I fall in love with an arrogant, controlling capitalist shark who didn't even respect me as a human being?

"That was me pursuing you! Do you not understand how that works?" Cole argued, his tone hardening with indignation.

"No. I don't."

Who pursues a girl by sending their corporate attack dog?

I might have been young back then, but I wasn't an idiot. His approach wasn't romantic; it was a mafia-style ultimatum. Date me, or I'll ruin your life and everyone you care about.

Besides, I had been in love before. I knew what it looked like when someone actually cared about you.

Whatever Cole felt for me in the beginning, it definitely wasn't love. At best, I was a shiny new toy.

And even now, as he moved heaven and earth to marry me, I didn't believe he was actually in love with me. He just liked having me around. I was naive, obedient, and easy to control.

I had just been playing dumb to survive. I wasn't actually stupid. I saw right through his rich-boy entitlement.

Seeing my absolute refusal to back down, Cole grew increasingly furious. But he clearly didn't want to resort to the same ruthless tactics he used three years agoit would shatter his pride.

He took several deep, ragged breaths before speaking slowly. "What if... what if I said I love you?"

"Huh?" I blinked in shock, genuinely confused. "Just because you love me, does that mean I'm legally obligated to love you back?"

"..."

Smash.

Cole's fist slammed into the stone wall, inches from my ear.

I shrank back in horror, staring at the blood seeping from his bruised knuckles. "Should... should I call the doctor?"

Cole just glared at me, his eyes dark and stormy, completely silent.

I let out a shaky breath, dug my phone out of my bag, and called Dr. Bennett.

Carter Bennett lived in the neighboring estate. He strolled over a few minutes later, medical bag in hand.

The second he saw Cole's bloody hand, he let out an exasperated groan, glaring at me. "Good lord, Harper. What did you do to him this time?"

Carter had been there earlier today when I bolted from the proposal. Now that I was back, and Cole was bleeding, he naturally assumed I was the villain.

I didn't bother defending myself. I just looked at Cole, who was still staring holes into my skull. "Since the doctor is here, I'm going to leave."

"Get out," Cole snarled.

"Okay." Granted a reprieve, I turned and sprinted for the gates.

Halfway down the driveway, I stopped and turned back.

The massive front doors were still wide open. When Cole saw me walking back, the faintest ghost of a smirk touched his lips, though his voice remained icy. "What are you doing back here?"

"I came to pack my things." I pointed toward the grand staircase leading to the second floor.

I had lived here for three years. Even though I always felt like a hostage rather than a girlfriend, I still had a ton of daily necessities upstairs. Replacing all my skincare, clothes, and tech on my non-existent budget would bankrupt me.

Over the last three years, he had showered me with giftssports cars, deeds to mansions. Things that were practically impossible for me to liquidate without a team of lawyers.

Classic toxic billionaire behavior.

Cole's face instantly turned to thunder.

I pretended not to notice, keeping my spine straight as I marched upstairs and began violently shoving my clothes and bags into a suitcase.

By the time I dragged my luggage back downstairs, Carter had finished wrapping Cole's hand in pristine white bandages.

Seeing me struggling with my massive suitcase, Carter offered a polite smile. "Need a ride? I can drop you off."

The estate was deep in the hills; getting an Uber up here was a nightmare.

I nodded instantly. "Yes, please."

Coles expression darkened even further. He snatched his car keys off the glass coffee table, his voice dripping with venom. "She's my woman. She doesn't need you to drive her."

"I'm sorry, but we broke up," I retorted, flatly rejecting him. I turned back to the doctor. "I'd really prefer if you drove me."

Carter cast a thoughtful, calculating look at Cole before taking the handle of my suitcase. "Let's go."

"Thank you."

And just like that, Carter and I walked out the front door under the blistering heat of Cole's death glare.

I stood by the iron gates, waiting for Carter to pull his car around.

Cole materialized behind me, his voice a low, mocking drawl. "Carter has a girlfriend, you know. And he doesn't go for girls who are slow and naive."

"Okay."

I was too exhausted to argue. The thought that I would never have to wake up terrified of his gorgeous, brooding face again gave me the patience of a saint. I could take whatever insults he threw at me.

"It's not too late to take it back," Cole said, his tone shifting, softening just a fraction. "I'll transfer this house to your name. If you don't want to get married yet, we won't."

"Okay."

"A-list director Davis is casting a new movie. I already put a word in. I can get you the lead role. It's the perfect way to officially launch your career."

"Okay."

"Do you have anything else to say to me besides okay?!" Cole finally snapped, his frustration boiling over.

"Yes," I said just as Carter's SUV pulled up. I turned and gave Cole a little wave. "Goodbye."

I yanked the car door open and threw myself inside.

"Harper!" Cole roared, his voice laced with absolute fury.

My heart did a panicked little flutter. I patted Carter's shoulder frantically. "Drive! Go, go, go!"

Carter smoothly hit the gas, and the SUV sped down the winding canyon road.

In the rearview mirror, Cole's furious silhouette grew smaller and smaller, until he finally vanished completely.

I slumped back against the leather seat, letting out a massive, trembling breath.

I asked Carter to drop me off at Mia's apartment building.

He parked, pulled my suitcase from the trunk, and handed it to me.

I thanked him politely and turned to leave.

"Harper, wait," he called out suddenly. "Are you and Cole blowing up over Blair?"

"Who?"

Blair? Who the hell is Blair?

I blinked at him, genuinely lost.

Carter looked stunned. He stared at me like I had two heads. "You seriously don't know who Blair Harrington is?"

"Is she famous?" I asked. I mean, I had almost debuted as an idol. If she was a big deal in Hollywood, I would know her.

Was she one of Cole's exes? Some poor girl whose life he ruined before he got to me?

Capitalist trash.

I clenched my fists, mentally cursing Cole and his entire bloodline.

"Never mind." Seeing my blank expression, Carter clearly decided he wasn't going to be the one to open that Pandora's box.

I didn't care enough to press him. I could just Google her later. If she had stepped foot in the entertainment industry, the internet would know.

"Bye, then," I waved, turning to haul my luggage up the stairs.

When Mia saw me standing in her doorway with a massive suitcase, her jaw practically hit the floor. "Babe... did you and the billionaire actually call it quits?"

"Yep." I wheeled my bag straight toward her tiny guest room. "I'm crashing here for a bit."

"Are you serious? You gave him three of the best years of your life and you didn't even get a fat breakup settlement?" Mia shrieked, outraged on my behalf.

I rolled my eyes. To be fair, Cole had given me plenty of things.

But they were all utterly impractical. He had rented out fleets of hot air balloons just to write my name in the sky. He had bought out the entirety of Nobu so he could sing me "Happy Birthday" off-key. He bought me a customized Porsche, knowing damn well I didn't have a driver's license. He bought me three different estatesone in Malibu, one in Manhattan, one in Aspen.

But trying to transfer the deeds into my name required exorbitant legal fees and property taxes. Because I was completely broke in actual liquid cash, I still hadn't managed to finalize the paperwork.

As for the diamonds and luxury watches, he said he was worried I'd lose them, so he kept them locked in his personal vault. I wore them once for a gala and never touched them again.

There were plenty of rich playboys in LA. The fact that I had tolerated his specific brand of chaotic, smothering wealth for three whole years proved I deserved a Nobel Peace Prize.

Thinking about it made me want to cry. I pulled up my banking app and shoved my phone in Mia's face. "Look. I have $420 to my name."

Just as I finished throwing my pity party, a notification popped up.

It was a Venmo transfer. From Cole.

"Oh, damn! Look at that. $30,420," Mia smirked, raising an eyebrow.

With absolute, unwavering dignity, I hit the 'Block' button on his profile.

"If he actually wanted to give me money, he would have wired it to my bank account! Venmo can be reversed!"

"Iconic," Mia muttered, thoroughly impressed. She turned to go fetch me some blankets.

That night, lying in the unfamiliar bed, I couldn't sleep. Out of sheer boredom, I opened my bank app again.

Balance: $420.

See? The $30,000 transfer was pending. He was just testing me.

Whatever. Billionaires are all sociopaths.

Tossing and turning, I pulled up Google and typed in Blair Harrington.

There were a lot of Blair Harringtons in the world.

So I added Cole Kensington to the search bar.

There wasn't much concrete gossip, but buried in a three-year-old PR article was a grainy paparazzi shot taken at LAX.

I would recognize that broad-shouldered silhouette anywhere. It was Cole.

He was seeing someone off at the airport. A woman.

The photo only caught the back of her head, so I couldn't see her face. The image quality was garbage.

Mia had mentioned once that before Cole met me, the tabloids tracked his dating life like a sport. He changed women like he changed designer watches. Maybe this Blair was just one of his many seasonal accessories?

But wait... why did he stop changing "accessories" after he forced me to date him?

Was I just the most low-maintenance option?

Suddenly, a text popped up on my screen.

"Unblock me." It was an SMS from Cole.

"We're broken up." I am a woman of principle. When a relationship ends, you cut the cord cleanly. Anything else is just stringing him along.

"I'll give you three minutes. If you don't unblock me, I'm calling your parents," Cole threatened.

Seriously? Calling my parents to tattle? He was a grown man nearing thirty, acting like a toddler.

"I'll tell my parents myself that we broke up." Last Christmas, he had shamelessly forced his way into my family's holiday dinner. By the end of the night, my parents were basically ready to walk me down the aisle. My older brother, Connor, trailed after him like a lost puppy, calling him "brother-in-law."

It made me want to scream.

"Then please make sure you tell them clearly: you are the one who dumped me."

A second later, another text came through: "By the way, I also have the video of you publicly humiliating me by running away from my proposal. I'll make sure to send that to them too."

He is so vile! How does a titan of industry even come up with such petty, underhanded blackmail?

"Don't cross the line!" I typed furiously.

"Unblock me on everything."

I wanted to reach through the screen and strangle him. The standard emojis on my phone simply weren't enough to convey my sheer, blinding rage.

I opened my messaging app, went into the settings, and yanked him out of the blocked contacts list.

After spamming him with twenty different animated stickers of a cartoon cat violently beating up a dog, my anger finally subsided a fraction.

Once I calmed down, a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

He was not a man you wanted to cross.

What if he lost his temper, sent his security detail to drag me back to Bel Air, and locked me in the mansion like some twisted dark romance novel?

I was scared, yes. But I couldn't afford to be weak.

If I caved now, I'd be under his thumb for the rest of my life, just like the last three years. I'd never be free.

I tossed the phone onto the mattress and walked out to the bathroom, trying to look perfectly unbothered.

When I came out, I bumped into Mia.

"Your phone is going off," she said, pointing at my door.

"It's just spam callers," I lied smoothly.

Mia's mouth twitched. "The spam caller is aggressively trying to FaceTime you."

"They're very dedicated to their craft," I muttered, my face burning as I scurried back into the bedroom.

Mia mercifully didn't follow me.

I looked at my screen and nearly had a heart attack.

Cole had tried to FaceTime me five times.

Terrified that ignoring him would push him to do something psychotic, I quickly sent him a sticker of a sleepy bear saying "Goodnight."

I waited for ten minutes. He didn't reply.

Sighing, I switched my phone to silent.

Going from a custom California King mattress to a lumpy futon in a walk-up apartment was an adjustment. I didn't sleep well that night.

The moment I woke up, I checked my phone.

The chat with Cole was dead silent.

I brushed it off. After washing my face, I walked down the street to grab breakfast.

Mia was a night owl. She wrote until dawn, her sleep schedule a complete disaster.

When I got back with coffee and bagels, I banged on her door.

She emerged looking like a zombie, dark circles under her eyes. I physically turned her toward the bathroom. "Brush your teeth. Food's ready."

"Ugh. Fine."

A few minutes later, she sat at the tiny kitchen table. I eagerly pushed a bagel and a latte toward her.

She took a bite, narrowing her eyes at me. "You're being weirdly domestic. It's creeping me out."

"So... do you need an assistant? A housekeeper?" I smiled sheepishly. Since she saw right through me, there was no point in beating around the bush.

"Do I look like I have the disposable income for a maid?" Mia scoffed.

"Didn't you tell me writing novels pays way better than managing pop stars?" Back when she quit the agency, she had confidently told me that once she sold her movie rights, she'd cast me as her lead actress.

"It does," Mia said, defensive. "As a junior manager, I made $3,000 a month. As an indie author, I make $3,100 a month. Mathematically, it is better."

I stared at her in silence.

She focused on peeling her hard-boiled egg. "If you're serious about cutting ties with Kensington, you need to get a real job."

"I only have a high school diploma. Who's gonna hire me?" I slumped in my chair. I never should have dropped out to join that stupid idol boot camp. I should have listened to my mom and gone to a local college.

If I had, Cole never would have noticed me.

I wouldn't have spent three years trapped in a fake relationship, failing to launch my career, ending up a 22-year-old with absolutely nothing to show for it.

"You can wash dishes at a diner. Collect recycling. Ring up groceries. Plenty of options!"

"...Seriously?"

I was almost a celebrity once. After failing to debut, is this really all I was qualified for?

I have some pride!

Besides, what if I was washing dishes and Cole walked into the restaurant with his new model girlfriend?

What if I was collecting cans on the side of the road and his imported Italian leather shoes stepped on my hand?

What if I was working the register at a bodega and Coles new girlfriend came in to buy condoms, and I had to hand her the exact change?

The more I visualized it, the more horrifying the prospect of a normal job became. I took a vicious bite of my bagel. "Hey, what if you teach me how to write romance novels?"

Mia rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "If I had the skill to teach someone else how to write a bestseller, I wouldn't be churning out ten thousand words a day just to make rent."

"Come on, it can't be that hard," I argued, snatching the peeled egg right out of her hand. "The only reason your books aren't blowing up is because you have zero romantic experience. I have the perfect material. My ex is a literal billionaire. I can write what I know."

Mia froze, staring at me in disbelief. "You're counting your three years hostage situation with Cole Kensington as romantic experience?"

"Why wouldn't I? He's a real-life domineering CEO. That's way better than whatever you're making up in your head."

"And what exactly is your plot? Are you gonna write about how he spoiled you rotten for three years, only for you to kick him to the curb when he proposed? Or are you gonna write 300 pages about two people sleeping in the same bed in total agonizing silence?"

"Why are you making me sound like the villain?" I protested.

"Aren't you?" Mia stood up, stealing the other half of my bagel, and walked away.

Am I?

Am I the villain?

After cleaning up the kitchen, I retreated to the guest room, opened my laptop, and prepared to become a literary genius.

My mind was completely blank.

Honestly, there wasn't much to write about my day-to-day life with Cole.

And the parts I could write about couldn't be published without violating several community guidelines. I'd probably get banned from whatever platform I posted it on.

Was working a cash register really my ultimate destiny?

I had just pulled up Indeed.com when my phone rang. It was my brother, Connor.

"Harper, it's a disaster. Get home right now."

"What happened?" I asked, my pulse spiking.

After Cole's threat last night, I was terrified this was a trap. What if he called a family meeting to put me on trial? I wouldn't be able to talk my way out of it.

"It's Mom. I can't explain over the phone. Just get here!" Connor hung up in a panic.

Hearing it was about my mom, I completely forgot about my job hunt. I grabbed my purse and ran out the door.

When I arrived at my parents' suburban house, the whole family was sitting grimly in the living room. Cole wasn't there. I let out a massive sigh of relief.

"Where's Mom?" I asked Connor, scanning the room.

Connor looked at me, hesitating. "You better ask Dad."

"Dad, what's wrong with Mom?" Did she have some terminal illness?

That's how it always happens in soap operas. That's what Mia writes in her books.

"Your mother... she got scammed!" my dad groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Scammed out of what?"

"She's in her fifties, Harper. What else do people steal from women her age? Her money," Connor muttered dryly.

"How much?"

Connor held up two fingers.

"Two grand?"

Connor shook his head.

"Twenty grand?"

He nodded gravely. "$30,000."

Holy shit.

Is it too late for me to unblock Cole and accept that Venmo transfer?

After getting the full story (a classic wire-fraud investment scam), I carried a bowl of chicken noodle soup into my parents' bedroom to comfort her.

"Mom, it's just money. We can earn it back. Don't starve yourself over it."

Dad said she hadn't eaten since she realized the money was gone last night.

She was huddled under the duvet, refusing to acknowledge me. I set the bowl on the nightstand and gently tugged the blanket down.

She glared at me, her face stained with tears.

I sighed. "It's thirty grand. I'll make it back for you."

"That was your wedding fund," she choked out, her voice breaking.

I froze.

She wiped her face, sniffing. "Cole comes from such a powerful family. I know he doesn't care that we aren't rich, but I didn't want his family to look down on you. I was just trying to grow your nest egg so you'd have some standing..."

"Mom, stop. I'm twenty-two. I'm not getting married anytime soon," I said quickly, trying to shut down this terrifying line of thought. "Besides, I can save up my own money. You and Dad need to keep your savings for retirement."

"You? Save up thirty grand?" My mom suddenly found her energy, pivoting instantly to roasting me. "You barely finished high school. How are you gonna make that kind of money?"

"So what if I just have a high school diploma?" I argued defensively. "If Cole hadn't interfered, I might be a massive pop star right now."

"The fact that Cole even wants you is a miracle I thank God for every day. A pop star? Keep dreaming," she sniped, hitting right where it hurt.

Seeing that she had enough breath in her lungs to insult me, I shoved the bowl of soup into her hands. "Eat something before you keep yelling at me."

I gave her a pleading, exaggerated smile. She looked at me, sighed, and reached out to pinch my cheek, a watery smile breaking through her tears.

"I suppose my daughter is prettier than most celebrities. Cole really did find a treasure."

"Exactly. Remember that next time you're praising everyone else's kids and treating me like chopped liver," I muttered.

I definitely couldn't tell her about the breakup now. The double shock might actually put her in the hospital.

"You're the best, sweetie," she smiled, finally picking up her spoon.

When I walked back into the living room with the empty bowl, Connor gave me a thumbs-up. "The favorite child strikes again."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. He was pushing thirty and still got jealous over this stuff.

Having calmed my mom down, I sat with my dad to assess the financial damage.

My parents were middle-class office workers. They had just helped Connor with a down payment on his condo two years ago, so saving that $30,000 couldn't have been easy. I worried how this would affect their daily lives.

If things were really dire, I'd have to swallow my pride and take Cole's money.

"Harper, don't worry about the wedding fund," my dad whispered, leaning in close and patting my hand. "I've been stashing away a secret emergency fund for years. When the time comes, I'll make sure you have a beautiful wedding."

"How much?" I asked, genuinely curious.

My dad held up two fingers.

"Two grand?"

He shook his head.

"Twenty grand?"

He shook his head again.

My heart started racing. I swallowed hard. "Two hundred grand?"

My dad smacked the back of my head. "Are you dreaming? Three hundred bucks!"

"..."

Goodbye, Dad.

After eating, my mom's mood stabilized significantly.

She came out to the living room and asked how things were going with Cole.

Terrified of sending her over the edge, I vaguely brushed the question off.

"Don't tell Cole about the scam," she whispered fiercely as I was leaving.

"Don't worry, I won't." It wasn't exactly a proud family moment; there was no reason to broadcast it to an outsider.

I shot a lethal glare at Connor, who was lingering behind her. "Keep your mouth shut, too."

Over the last year, Connor and Cole had gotten ridiculously close. Cole loved calling him "brother-in-law," and Connor ate it up. Cole was a master at massaging egos, constantly inflating my brother's self-esteem.

"I know, I know," Connor mumbled, looking away guiltily.

"If you tell him, you're dead to me," I threatened.

Connor practically jogged back to the couch.

My mom tried to walk me down to the street, but I forced her to stay inside. It was getting chilly, and she was only wearing slippers.

10

The second I stepped out of the apartment building, I saw Cole's sleek black car idling by the curb.

I pretended not to see it and started walking fast. He honked the horn.

I ignored him.

The door swung open, and he stepped out, grabbing my arm. "Did you tell your parents the truth today?"

"Let go of me," I snapped, my face hardening.

"Harper, do you have a heart?" Cole roared, his face twisting with genuine anger. "Our mom is completely devastated, and you're just going to pile our breakup on top of that?!"

Excuse me? When did she become our mom?

"Connor told me she got scammed," he admitted.

I knew my idiot brother couldn't keep his mouth shut. I was seething.

"She's my mom. Stop acting like you're part of the family," I snapped. I took a breath to steady myself. "Even if she got scammed, it's none of your business."

"She lost your wedding fund! How is that not my business?" Cole's voice boomed across the quiet suburban street. "When we get married, half of that money comes to my household!"

"WE BROKE UP!" I screamed back at him.

Are all billionaires this stingy? He's seriously factoring my middle-class dowry into his net worth? No wonder his empire was expanding; the man was a shark down to his bones.

Cole gripped my arm tighter, his voice suddenly dropping, softening into a coaxing murmur. "I already talked to the director. I got you a supporting role in the new film. Female lead #5."

"Didn't you say I was going to be the main lead?" I didn't actually want the part, but I was so angry I just wanted to fight him on everything.

"The lead role has a kissing scene. I didn't like it."

"Thanks, but I don't need your favors!" I pushed him away, turning on my heel.

"Then what do you want?!" Cole grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face him. His dark eyes were swimming with frustration and panic. "Do you want to be an A-list star? Is that it?"

I stared at him, utterly stunned.

So that was what he thought this was about.

He thought I was using the breakup as leverage to negotiate a better acting career.

When he first forced me into the relationship, I had harbored tiny hopes of still debuting. I tried to bring it up gently a few times.

He shut it down immediately. He told me the entertainment industry was a toxic wasteland, and with my "limited intellect," I'd get eaten alive and sold to the highest bidder.

He said he wanted to protect me. Keep me pure and safe, so I could live a carefree life.

Then Mia quit the agency, leaving me without a manager, and my dreams of performing quietly died.

Now, out of nowhere, he was offering me a supporting role. Wasn't he worried the "toxic wasteland" would pollute me anymore?

Men are such liars.

"Cole." For the very first time, I called him by his actual name instead of a detached 'you'. "I broke up with you because I just don't like you."

"..."

Cole's expression instantly darkened like a thundercloud. His voice dropped to a terrifyingly quiet register. "What exactly don't you like?"

"Am I too handsome?"

I shook my head.

"Do I have too much money?"

I shook my head again. I wasn't clinically insane; why would I hate money?

"Am I not satisfying you in bed?" His face was pitch black now.

My face turned completely red.

"N-no. That's not it." In that department, he was actually incredibly intense. After the initial shock of the first few times, the last three years had been... perfectly fine.

"Then what the hell don't you like?!" he bellowed.

"You... you don't respect me." I shrank back, intimidated. He was gorgeous, yes, but when he was