When My Rich Boyfriend Went Broke, I Stopped Pretending

For three years, I was Julian Mercer’s trophy girlfriend.

That’s what everyone in New York high society said.

No job, no social life. My favorite hobbies were sleeping in and then taking his black card to Fifth Avenue to buy things I didn’t need. Even his own sister, Sophia, said I probably wouldn’t last a week without the Mercer family.

I never argued.

After all, three years ago, I was the controlling shareholder and chief investment officer of North Shore Capital. I worked 18 hours a day and was still watching overseas markets at two in the morning. Eventually I passed out cold in a conference room. When I woke up, I had an IV in the back of my hand, and the doctor asked if I planned to keep going until I died at my desk.

So I stopped.

I handed day-to-day management over to Margaret Hale, kept my controlling stake, and only showed up when something required my signature.

Then I met Julian.

He knew I used to work in finance, but he never asked how much money I’d made or why I’d quit. The first time he saw me use his card, all he asked was, “You like it?”

I said I did.

He said, “Then buy it.”

That was the moment I decided to stay.

The afternoon everything fell apart, I was on Fifth Avenue trying on a limited-edition handbag that had just arrived in New York.

The sales associate, Chloe Bennett, wore white gloves as she handed it to me. I looked it over, then set Julian’s black card on the counter.

The card reader beeped.

Declined.

I stared at the screen for three seconds.

“Run it again.”

Declined again.

Chloe kept smiling, but she was clearly moving slower now.

I was about to call Julian when a breaking financial news alert flashed across the giant screen outside the store.

Mercer Group stock was in free fall.

A short seller had put out a report accusing the company of concealing debt and related-party transactions. Several banks had frozen its credit lines at once. Richard Mercer had resigned as chairman, and Julian’s older brothers, Alex and Daniel Mercer, were under investigation over an international money transfer.

I called Julian three times.

No answer.

That wasn’t like him.

In three years, whether he was in a board meeting or on a plane, he’d always picked up before the third ring.

I put the bag back and went home to the Mercer house empty-handed.

The living room was chaos.

Lawyers, bank advisers, and company executives filled nearly the whole floor. Julian’s mother, Helen Mercer, was red-eyed, and his father, Richard, sat on the couch looking like he’d aged ten years overnight.

When Sophia saw me, all the anger she’d bottled up that afternoon finally had somewhere to go.

“Elena, where have you been?”

“Shopping for a bag.”

She stared at my empty hands and let out a furious laugh.

“The company’s about to go under, and you’re out buying bags?”

“I didn’t get it,” I said, handing my coat to one of the staff. “The card got declined.”

“You—”

“Sophia.”

Julian’s voice came from the doorway.

When he walked in, his tie was already loose, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and there were deep shadows under his eyes.

He looked me over first.

“Did anyone give you trouble?”

I shook my head.

“I just didn’t get my bag.”

Sophia looked like she was about to cry with rage.

“Julian! Are you even listening to what she’s saying?”

Julian ignored her, pulled another card out of his wallet, and handed it to me.

“Use this one.”

I took it.

“What’s the limit?”

“Five million dollars.”

I frowned.

Julian saw my face and actually smiled.

“You’ll have to make do for a few days.”

Sophia turned and stormed off.

Nobody in the Mercer house ate dinner that night.

Except me.

I ate the dinner the chef had prepared, all by myself. When I went upstairs at one in the morning, the light in the study was still on.

The door was open a crack, and I heard a lawyer say, “If we don’t secure additional funding by tomorrow morning, the lenders could call in their loans. The flagship hotels, the commercial real estate, all of it will have to be sold.”

Julian was quiet for a long time.

“Sell my personal investments.”

“That still won’t be enough.”

“Sell them anyway.”

A few more seconds passed.

“And get the plane ready.”

I pushed the door open.

“Where are you going?”

Julian turned around. His brow twitched when he saw me.

“Not me.”

He picked up an envelope from the desk. Inside were my passport, a plane ticket, and the deed to an apartment overseas.

“Get out of New York by tomorrow.”

I looked up at him.

“You’re kicking me out?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?”

He stepped closer and pulled my robe closed at the neck.

“Just listen to me this once.

“Go. For now.”