My Charity Case Wants $50k

It was Roger. My boyfriend. We'd gone to the same high school and somehow ended up at the same university.

The second Sharon spotted him, she scanned him head to toe. Then—like flipping a switch—her voice dropped into this soft, fake-cry tone, all wounded and delicate.

She even swayed like she might faint. "This is your girlfriend, right? You're just in time. She wasn't watching, pushed me down, and ruined my brand-new suitcase.

"Instead of apologizing, she YELLED at me. My arm really hurts. How could your girlfriend be so MEAN?"

Roger looked at me, then back at Sharon.

That designer outfit hugged her in all the right places. Cartier watch catching the light. Van Cleef necklace perfectly placed. Add those teary Bambi eyes...

I saw the flick in his gaze. The swallow in his throat.

"Vincci," he said, frowning. That tone? Full of blame. "Did you really bump into her? Why were you so careless?

"Just say sorry, okay? That suitcase costs a fortune—what's the big deal? Don't make a scene."

A chill crept down my spine.

I looked at his face—so familiar, yet suddenly so fake. Three years together, and he didn't even ask what happened. Just fell for some tears and a couple of brand labels.

All he saw was Sharon's designer drip and her sad little act.

My voice stayed steady. "Roger, are you seriously telling me to apologize?"

He shifted under my stare, but then glanced at Sharon's pout and straightened up like he had a backbone. "She's the victim. Apologizing is the decent thing to do, isn't it? What's the big deal?

"Did you even hear how much that suitcase costs? How are you gonna pay her back?

"Just say sorry already and stop making this a scene."

I laughed—cold and sharp. "You want an apology?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "We're done. Right here, right now."

His face froze, like he couldn't believe I'd actually said it. Then the red crept in—humiliated, angry, dumped in front of a crowd.

"Vincci! Are you seriously doing this? Breaking up over something THIS SMALL? You're being dramatic!"

"This is small?" I snapped. "You watched me get dragged in public and didn't even ask what happened. You took her side like it was nothing and joined in. And that's just a 'small thing'?"

I stared straight into his panicked eyes. "Go ahead, enjoy your fifteen minutes with your shiny new classmate. Hope you marry rich and live the dream."

I yanked up the handle on my plain canvas suitcase and turned to leave. Couldn't spend another second with these people.

"Stop right there!" Sharon barked. "You wrecked my suitcase, dumped your boyfriend, and now you think you can just walk away? What kind of joke is this?!

"Someone say something—how full of herself can she be?"

She lunged and grabbed my arm.

I dodged, caught her wrist instead. "Touch me again and see what happens," I said, ice cold. "I've been patient with your crap, but that ends now."

My eyes locked on hers. "Last warning. Let go."