When the Inheritance Plan Failed, He Turned on Me

My inbox was flooded with messages warning me to watch out for my boyfriend, Harry Pate. My hands trembled as I opened one of the messages. It was an alert post from a woman who went by "SmallTownGirl".

"Please share. We're trying to find a woman named Freya White, a wealthy heiress from Syrinth. Her boyfriend was taking her back to his hometown in Quenvale.

"He had gathered several friends to drug and assault her and even planned to film a gang assault to blackmail her family and secure a fortune. Please help this woman!"

At first, I didn't believe it, but in the last photo of the post, I immediately recognized Harry from behind. Every piece of clothing from head to toe was something I had bought for him. I couldn't deny it.

I stared at him in the living room, making calls and setting up meetings, furious and in disbelief that I had wasted seven years of my life on him.

We had been together since college and had been planning our wedding for seven years. This had been a careful, deliberate decision. I wasn't someone who couldn't live without a man, and I wasn't with him to fix my life.

Harry had just played the part too well. Even my parents had been fooled. He pretended to be ambitious despite his poor background, never asked me for anything, and even worked part-time so that the gifts he gave me matched my standards.

From a 2-dollar americano to a 2,000-dollar handbag, he had said, "Just because we are together doesn't mean you should change your lifestyle."

He knew his family couldn't provide much. He worked relentlessly to earn the approval of my parents. I had never seen anyone work harder. He had given me everything he could, with all his heart.

But now, was any of it ever real?

I bit my lip and messaged SmallTownGirl, "Hi, I am Freya. I saw your post. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. As long as you saw it. You haven't gone to Quenvale, right?" she responded.

"I'm already here. I'm at his house, listening to him as he calls people to come over. Can you help me? I'll send the address. Can you come get me?" I replied.

"Sure, I'll be right there," she answered immediately. "By the way, did you see the hand in the photo? You know whose it is, right?"

"Yes, I know. Don't worry," I replied.

I could never have mistaken that hand. The gold bracelet on it was the one I had accidentally lost six months ago. It turned out that Harry had stolen it and given it to his female friend, Sharon Bell.