You Can't Afford My Broken Heart

Katharine Kent POV: The morning sun sliced through the gaps in the blinds, hitting me right in the eyes. I woke up stiff on the living room sofa. My laptop was still open on the coffee table. I sat up, my joints aching, and picked up my phone from the rug. There were three new texts from Andrew. Where were you last night? Why aren't you answering? Call me. I stared at the screen. My pulse didn't flutter. My chest felt completely hollowed out. I typed a single letter. Busy. I hit send and tossed the phone onto the cushion. Miles away, in the penthouse office of the Blackburn Tower on Wall Street, Andrew stared at his phone. His jaw clenched. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a spike of irritation flaring in his chest. "Is there a problem, Mr. Blackburn?" his assistant asked, holding a stack of briefing folders. "No," Andrew said coldly. "Katharine is playing games. She thinks playing hard to get will give her leverage for the prenup." "Should I cancel the dinner reservation for tonight?" "Yes," Andrew snapped. He adjusted his cuffs. "Call Alida. Tell her I'm taking her to Ethan's birthday gala at the Waldorf tonight instead." By early evening, I stood in my walk-in closet. The racks were filled with vibrant, expensive gowns Andrew had bought for me over the years. I ignored all of them. I reached into the back and pulled out a simple, long-sleeved black velvet dress. It was modest, severe, and completely devoid of flash. I slipped it on. I didn't bother with makeup, leaving my face pale and my features sharp. I took a black car to the Waldorf Astoria. The grand ballroom was a sea of gold and crystal. As I walked through the heavy double doors, the suffocating heat of a hundred bodies and expensive perfumes hit me. People turned to look. Fake smiles stretched across the faces of the socialites as they murmured greetings. I nodded politely, my face a mask of polite indifference. I walked straight past the crowd and positioned myself near the champagne tower in the far corner. Suddenly, the heavy doors swung open again. A flurry of camera flashes erupted from the lobby. Andrew walked in. His hand was resting possessively on Alida's lower back. My eyes locked onto Alida's dress. It was a limited-edition haute couture gown—the exact one I had pointed out in a magazine last week. Andrew had told me it was sold out. My fingers tightened around the stem of my champagne flute. The glass dug into my skin. Then, slowly, I forced my fingers to relax. It was just absurd now. Andrew scanned the room. His eyes cut through the crowd and landed on me in my plain black dress. His brow furrowed. He shot me a look of warning, expecting me to look away in shame or jealousy. I met his gaze dead-on. My eyes were flat, devoid of any recognition. I looked at him like he was a stranger waiting for a bus. Andrew's jaw tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek. He looked visibly annoyed by my lack of reaction. He pulled Alida closer and guided her toward the center of the room. A few minutes later, Alida detached herself from Andrew and swayed over to my corner. She held a crystal flute, her smile dripping with fake sweetness. "Katharine," Alida cooed, stepping uncomfortably close. "You look so... tired. Are you feeling okay? Drew bought me this dress today. He said it matched my eyes." I looked at the dress, then at Alida's face. "It suits you," I said, my voice completely flat. I turned to walk away. As I pivoted, Alida's eyes flashed with malice. Alida subtly shifted her weight and brought the sharp heel of her stiletto down hard onto the trailing hem of my black velvet skirt. I took a step, but the fabric yanked me backward. My ankle twisted. I stumbled hard, my arms flailing as I fell toward the edge of the dessert table. A strong hand shot out and gripped my bicep, yanking me upright before I hit the marble floor. It was Ethan. My brother's face was red with sudden fury. Ethan turned his glare onto Alida. "What the hell are you doing?" he barked, his voice carrying over the music. Alida gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. She stumbled backward, looking terrified. "I-I didn't! She tripped!" Andrew materialized from the crowd instantly. He stepped in front of Alida, shielding her with his body. He glared at Ethan, then turned his furious eyes on me. "Are you out of your mind?" Andrew hissed at me, his voice vibrating with anger. "You're going to bully her at your own brother's birthday party? Grow up, Katharine." The surrounding guests fell silent. Whispers broke out. Eyes darted toward me, filled with pity and mockery. I stood perfectly still. I looked at Andrew's broad shoulders, positioned to protect Alida from me. The last remaining warmth in my chest turned to solid ice. I didn't feel angry. I just felt exhausted. Ethan stepped forward, his fists clenching. "Andrew, you son of a—" I reached out and wrapped my cold fingers around Ethan's wrist. "Let's go," I said. My voice was a quiet, chilling whisper. I didn't wait for a response. I turned my back on Andrew, Alida, and the staring crowd, and walked toward the opposite side of the ballroom.