Chapter 1- Getting Slapped By His Ex

Sabrina's POV

By five in the evening, my eyes were burning from staring at the computer screen all day. I finally shut it down, stretched my stiff arms, and started packing up. Just as I slung my bag over my shoulder, my boss called out, 

“Hey, we’re heading to the bar. You coming?”

I forced a smile and shook my head. “Can’t. I’ve got something to take care of at home.”

It wasn’t a lie—just not the whole truth. “Something to take care of” meant rushing across town to flip burgers at my second job before the dinner rush.

Accounting was my main job, but it barely paid enough to keep my student loan collectors off my back. So, I worked nights at a fast-food place. Seven more months—that’s all I kept telling myself. Seven months and I’d finally be free.

The smell of fries hit me the moment I walked in. I tied my apron, plastered on a smile, and tried to push through the exhaustion. For a few hours, everything went fine—until someone shouted.

“Hey, you!”

I turned, expecting a customer asking for ketchup. Instead, a woman stood up, her eyes blazing. Before I could say a word, she threw a cup of hot coffee right at my face.

The burn stung my skin, but the shock hit harder.

“You think you can steal my boyfriend, you ugly witch?” she screamed.

“What?” I gasped, wiping my face. “I don’t even know who you—”

“Don’t play dumb! Frank told me everything!”

My heart dropped. Frank.

Before she could lunge at me, my coworker grabbed her, pulling her back. I stood there, trembling, coffee dripping down my chin, humiliated in front of everyone.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Every time Frank couldn’t get rid of a girlfriend, he told her I was the one he truly loved. And every time, I was the one who suffered for it. 

This time, I lost my job. The manager said I caused a scene and told me not to come back. He even docked me a week’s pay. 

I felt so frustrated and angry, how was I supposed to pay my student loan if I keep getting fired? And I didn't want to even think about what would happen if I don't pay that money on time…God—I might never get a real job and the thought of getting sued sent a shiver down my spine.

When I got back to my tiny apartment, I felt hollow. My uniform smelled like coffee, and my eyes burned from holding back tears. I’d barely sat down when someone knocked on my door.

I already knew who it was.

Frank.

He stood there, tall and handsome as ever with his brown hair disheveled from the wind, green eyes shining and a smile like nothing was wrong, holding a small box. “Brought you something,” he said, lifting the lid to show my favorite chocolate cake. “Got it on my trip.”

I stared at him, too angry to even fake a smile. “Why did you tell your ex I was your girlfriend again? She came to my job and threw coffee in my face. I got fired, Frank. Fired!”

His smile faded. “What? I—I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you next week when I get paid, I promise.”

“You said that the last three times,” I said quietly.

He sighed looking at me with worry. “Maybe this is a sign, you know? You should quit that restaurant job. You work too hard.”

I laughed bitterly. “Easy for you to say.”

It was always the same—empty promises, sweet words, and no real help. Still, no matter how angry I was, when he handed me that cake, I couldn’t throw him out.

Because no matter how much I hated myself for it, I loved him.

He’d been my best friend since childhood—the only person who ever felt like family after his grandmother. She once tried to adopt me, but he stopped her. I used to believe it was because he had feelings for me.  Maybe, deep down, I still believed that.

But to everyone else, he introduced me as his sister.

So when he said, “I think I’ve met someone,” I felt my chest tighten.

“Her name’s Tina,” he said, eyes lighting up. “She’s beautiful. I think she’s the one.”

I forced a smile, though my heart was cracking.

He’d said that same line before—about other girls who never lasted. But something about the way he said this one made my stomach twist.

Then he added, almost casually, “She’s Eric’s sister.”

I froze. Eric. The notorious playboy. The man who left a trail of broken hearts wherever he went.

“Wait, as in Eric Eric?” 

Frank smiled, nodding, and for some reason I felt a chill go down my spine.

"Yes, that Eric.”

My heart sank.

Oh no.