Cinderella Is A Shark Now

I broke up with a man whose net worth had more zeros than I could count.

On the other end of the line, Benson was silent for a full ten seconds before he finally spoke. He said hed respect my decision, but he asked for one last dinner.

I didn't say a word; I just listened to the hum of the static. His easy clinical acceptance of the end was the final piece of evidence I needed. It confirmed every insecurity Id nursed over the past yearthat I was a temporary fixture in a permanent world.

"Eight o'clock tonight," he said. "The Ivy. Ill see you then."

1.

At eight sharp, I stepped into the dim, amber-lit warmth of The Ivy.

Benson was already there, and for the first time in his life, he was wearing the charcoal-grey suit Id bought him. In his hands was a massive, sprawling bouquet of deep red roses.

A hollow ache bloomed in my chest as I took them. "Thank you."

Once we were seated, I couldn't stop looking at him. He was devastatingly handsomethe kind of man who moved through a room as if he owned the air everyone else was breathing. Even now, with my heart halfway out the door, I had to admit I was still under his spell.

Benson watched me with that polished, gentlemanly gaze. He smiled, a soft, practiced thing. "So? How do I look? Its the suit you got me."

"You look incredible," I said.

But I knew the truth. Hed hated this suit. Id given it to him six months ago, and it had sat in the back of his walk-in closet, untouched. To Benson, it was "budget." Id agonized over that purchase, spending four thousand dollarsthe absolute limit of my savingstrying to find something worthy of him. To me, it was a sacrifice. To him, it was a cheap polyester blend that didn't sit quite right on his shoulders.

I couldn't blame him, really. I remembered the last time wed gone shopping. Hed bought me a thirty-thousand-dollar handbag without so much as glancing at the price tag. We lived in different economies of the heart.

We ate our steaks in a silence heavy with things unsaid. Eventually, Benson set his fork down and looked at me with a sudden, jarring intensity. "Noelle, thank you. Truly."

I looked down at my plate, terrified that if I met his eyes, Id start crying.

"Im so grateful you were part of my life," he continued. "Youre wonderful, Noelle. Youre brilliant, and I... I really do care for you."

I kept cutting my steak, though it tasted like ash.

"If you've changed your mind," Benson said, his voice dropping an octave, "we can act like this call never happened. We can go back to how things were." He repeated it, as if trying to convince himself. "I really do love having you by my side."

I gathered my courage and looked up. "Benson, the gap between us is too wide. If it wasn't today, it would be tomorrow, or next month. We were always going to hit a wall."

He reached across the table, covering my hand with his. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that we try. Even if it doesn't end the way we want, at least we can say we didn't give up."

"You say you care for me," I whispered. "But do you love me?"

He looked at me, and for a fleeting second, he gave me exactly what I wanted to hear. "I love you."

"Then marry me," I said. "Tomorrow. Lets just go to the courthouse and do it."

Silence.

The air seemed to leave the room. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

I let out a jagged, bitter laugh and raised my wine glass. "To us, Benson. To one year."

Under the soft restaurant lights, he looked like the perfect leading manelegant, tragic, and untouchable. I forced a smile through the sting in my throat. I knew that after tonight, he was going to be someone elses leading man.

Benson smiled back, a little sadly, and clinked his glass against mine.

The perfect period at the end of a very short sentence.

2.

The next day, I called out of work for three days.

By the second day of my self-imposed mourning, Belen was pounding on my front door. When I finally let her in, she looked like shed seen a ghost. She took one look at the empty beer cans littering my small apartment and gasped.

"Oh my god, Noelle. What is this? Youre the one who dumped him, and now youre acting like the victim? Get it together."

I shrugged, unable to find the energy to argue.

She started cleaning my living room, muttering under her breath. I retreated to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I couldn't stay like this forever.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours," Belen called out. "Giving up a guy like Benson? He was the gold standard. Good luck finding another one like that in this city."

I let her nag. She didn't get it.

Being with Benson was like living in a dream. I never had to plan anything; he curated my life. Switzerland, Norway, the Maldives... I sat through auctions watching him spend a quarter-million on art pieces that didn't even resonate with him. Hed even bought a luxury penthouse near my office just to make my commute easier. The night we moved in, I felt like Cinderella. I thought Id finally found my prince.

The night we broke up, hed tried to give me the penthouse.

I refused.

Hed given me so much, though to him, it was probably pocket change. Thanks to Benson, Id touched a world I didn't belong to. But that world had made me lose my footing.

I opened my closet to find something to wear, and my eyes landed on that thirty-thousand-dollar bag hanging on the door. Belen thought I was crazy for letting go of a man who could give me security, especially since I was an orphan with no family to fall back on.

But what Belen didn't know was that Benson was just like that bag. I could carry it, I could look glamorous with it on my arm, but I knewdeep in my bonesthat I never truly owned it. For a year, that feeling of unworthiness had been a slow-acting poison.

After we cleaned the place, Belen took me out for a cheap burger.

"You know everyone says hes the one who dumped you, right?" she said, mid-fry.

I kept my head down. "That was fast. I thought it would take at least a week for the rumor mill to start."

"Did you hear about Hudsons party last night at the Heights?"

I shook my head. Hudson was the heir to a massive tech fortune, Bensons best friend since prep school.

Belen gave me a look of pure pity. "It was all over Instagram. Hudson threw a 'Back on the Market' party for Benson. It was basically a gala of every eligible socialite in the state."

The burger felt like lead in my stomach, but I kept my face neutral. "Makes sense. They have the money; they can celebrate whatever they want."

Belen tapped her chopsticks against my hand. "Noelle, doesn't it kill you? Thats Benson Montgomery. Every woman in this city would kill to be in your shoes."

I looked at her. "Do you honestly think I had the 'luck' to actually become a Montgomery? Do you think his family would ever let me be the one?"

Belens eyes dimmed. She knew. She was just like everyone elseshe wanted to see the fairytale work so she could believe in it too. She wanted me to claw and climb and get my piece of the pie.

But she didn't understand that when the class divide is that steep, its not a relationship. Its a residency.

I never called him first. I knew he was busy, that his time was worth thousands of dollars an hour. When I was with his friends, their eyes slid over me like I was a piece of furniturepretty, well-placed, but ultimately replaceable. They never asked what I did for a living. I was just 'The Girlfriend.'

Benson was perfect, in his way. He never insulted me. But even when he made a suggestion, I found myself obeying. I was so afraid of losing the control he held over the relationship that I became a shadow.

As we left the diner, Belen squeezed my shoulder. "Honestly? I admire you. Youre so clear-headed its almost scary."

"Thanks," I said softly.

3.

I buried myself in work. I needed to build a world where I was the main character.

During that time, I moved again. From a decent apartment to a smaller, more affordable one closer to my new firm. On move-in day, Belen and her boyfriend, Dave, came over. I cooked a big dinner, and we stayed up late talking.

After they left, I leaned against the window, watching the neon lights of the city below. My mind drifted to Benson.

He hadn't contacted me once in six months. Neither had I.

I looked around my small, cramped living room and felt a wave of exhaustion. I thought about the penthouse. I thought about the way he looked when he kissed meeyes closed, seemingly sincere. I thought about a sunny morning when hed stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, shirtless, and said, "You know, Noelle, life is better with you in it."

I couldn't tell anyone that I still wasn't over him.

But I also knew I couldn't be his accessory.

"Cinderella," I whispered to the empty room. "This is your world. Wake up."

It was a painful detox, but I couldn't go back. I wanted equality. I wanted to be looked at, not looked down upon. I wanted respect that wasn't tied to a gift.

4.

I jumped ship to Vantage Media.

Three years later, I had finally made a name for myself.

I heard snippets of his life through the grapevine. Benson had a girlfriend. Then they broke up. Then word got around that he was moving to London to handle the European branch of the family business.

The night before he left, my phone buzzed. It was a photo from him.

It was a picture of me from three years ago. I zoomed in on my face. I looked so soft then, so sweet. I almost didn't recognize her. In the photo, Bensons hand was resting on my headthe only part of him in the frame.

I racked my brain trying to remember when it was taken, but I couldn't.

Just as I started to type a reply, my boss, Sylvia, called. It was a crisis. I had to pull together three pitches by morning.

By the time I finished, it was 3:00 AM.

I was at my desk by 7:00 AM. Sylvia was thrilled with the work and gave us the afternoon off.

Only then did I check my messages.

Last night: Noelle, my flight is at 11:30 AM tomorrow. Could you come to the airport? Just to say goodbye?

This morning: Im leaving now. Take care of yourself.

I looked at the clock. 10:50 AM.

I froze for a full minute. Then, for reasons I couldn't explain, I grabbed my bag and ran.

But I was too late. The terminal was a sea of strangers, and his plane was already a speck in the sky.

When I told Belen about it later, she asked, "If youd made it, what would you have done?"

I smiled sadly. "I just wanted to see him off. Thats all."

"Maybe its better you didn't," Belen said. "The more time passes, the more I think you were right to leave. He hasn't exactly been lonely these past two years. Theres been a revolving door of models."

I didn't say anything. I just changed the subject. "I have the afternoon off. Want to go shopping?"

5.

Sylvia walked into the office and tossed a file onto Monicas desk. "Monica, good news. Ive got a big one for you."

In our world, "a big one" usually meant a nightmare client.

Monica opened the file, and Hudsons face stared back at us.

Sylvia leaned against the desk. "Hudson Sterling. Forget the family money for a secondthe man is a walking headline. Hes the golden boy of tech right now."

Monica was my equal at the firm, sharp and ambitious. She gave a confident thumbs-up. "Im on it."

But Hudson was a brat. A week later, Monica came back in tears. Shed botched the interview, and Hudson had called Sylvia personally to complain. "Your firms lack of professionalism is stunning," hed said. "Im reconsidering our contract."

Sylvia looked at Monicas miserable face, then looked at me. "Noelle. Youre up."

The next day, I went to Hudsons office.

When my team and I walked in, he was swiveling in his leather chair, looking out at the skyline while on a call.

"The States are so much better than London, man," he was saying. "Just get back here. Ive got a bottle of '90 Romane-Conti waiting for you."

The chair spun around. Hudsons smirk died the moment he saw me. He blinked, then spoke back into the phone. "Hey, man... youll never guess who just walked into my office."

There was a pause.

Hudson grinned. "Your dream girl. My favorite ex-sister-in-law."

My heart did a violent somal-sault. I knew exactly who was on the other end of that line.

"Talk later," Hudson said, hanging up. He leaned back and looked at us. "Who are you people?"

"We're from Vantage," my colleague said. "This is our Creative Director, Noelle."

Hudson let out a cold laugh. "Well, don't waste my time. Let's get started. How do you want me to play this?"