He Faked Broke, Now He Is

I just stood there, frozen.

The same guy who used to whisper "Bella, you're amazing" now tossed around "sad little simp" like it was a joke.

My chest caved. The loan papers slipped from my hands and smacked the floor.

On the phone, his buddy cracked up. "Heard she's been frying food nonstop just to save cash for you?"

Jack laughed. "Yup. Arms full of burns and still smiling like a clown. Simps are too easy."

Then the guy dropped his voice. "So, she finally got the money? What now?"

"What's the rush? I'm not done messing with her yet. Way better than racing."

"Dude, you're wild. She basically lives at that joint—why's she not there today? Gave up?"

"She's off handling the loan," Jack snorted. "Down payment's locked."

The guy whistled. "So we're hitting the finale?"

Jack laughed dark. "Nah, once the house's in my name, I'll throw in some fake old tenants, stage a squat, and fake a meltdown. You guys can keep watching the trainwreck."

The other guy lost it. "You're insane! Freakin' genius!"

I staggered back, stomach twisting like I'd been punched.

So the whole bankruptcy thing? Just one big scam.

All those skipped meals, late nights counting coins, working through burn after burn—none of it even mattered to him. Not even as a joke.

Then his friend asked, low, "Jack, you really feel nothing for her?"

Jack laughed, ice-cold. "Feelings? For some cheap girl like her? Not worth it."

"But she did everything for you..."

"She's just dumb."

Click. Call ended.

I stared at the money in my account—and started laughing, tears streaming down my face.

Three years of memories hit me like a truck.

'Bella, come back. I need you.' Jack's voice still echoed in my head.

I'd burned bridges with my family just to end up a punchline.

The bank clerk glanced up. "Ma'am, are you still signing?"

"No, thanks."

I'm not buying the house.

And I'm done with Jack.