"Lauren, a woman's value plummets after thirty. You're just a commodity waiting for a buyer now. Hurry up and find a wealthy provider while you still have some youth left."
Clutching two expensive bottles of Louis XIII, Lauren stood in the thumping corridor of the nightclub, her voice laced with irritation. "Mom, I've told you a thousand times, I have a boyfriend. Stop trying to set me up on these blind dates."
"That boyfriend of yours? That penniless loser?"
"Lauren, open your eyes! Five years ago, you claimed he was saving for a house. You actually fell for that pathetic lie!"
"Mom! Enough! We're buying a place and getting married by the end of the year, I promise!"
Lauren slammed her thumb down to end the call, aggressively brushing away a stray tear.
The truth was, Tray Sommers had never actually brought up marriage; she knew he felt burdened by their bank accounts. She had spent six grueling years saving every penny, and now she was only 20,000 dollar away from a down payment in the capital's brutal housing market.
Lauren prided herself on being practical. She believed Tray was the same-a man working three jobs just to build them a foundation.
The thought warmed her. She gripped the cognac bottles tighter, centering herself.
I'll drink every executive under the table tonight if it means closing this deal, she vowed.
But as she passed a heavy, partially open bronze door, a sharp feminine laugh drifted out.
"I went to scout apartments at Ontario the other day, and you'll never guess who I saw."
"Ugh, let me guess-Lauren? She was there too, looking like a deer in headlights when she saw the price tags. It was honestly tragic."
"She's such a fool. She actually thinks Tray hasn't proposed because he's broke."
Lauren froze, her heart hammering against her ribs as she crept closer to the door.
"You can't really blame her, can you? Our brother is a world-class actor. Look at those thrift-store rags he wears every day!"
Lauren tried to breathe. It's a different Lauren, she told herself. It has to be.
Then, a man in a black alpaca coat moved into her line of sight and took a seat on the velvet sofa.
Even from behind, she knew him instantly. That coat had cost over five thousand dollar-the very "rags" the girl mentioned-and Lauren had skipped meals for months to buy it for his birthday.
The color drained from her face. Her knuckles turned a ghostly white against the glass bottles.
The man leaned back with an air of practiced nobility, his long legs stretched out, his profile sharp and handsome in the dim light. He flicked a gold lighter, a mocking smirk touching his lips.
"I find the charade entertaining. Why do you care?"
"Is it still just a game, though?" a friend teased. "Or have you actually caught feelings for your 'Instant Noodle Princess'?"
"Please," Tray drawled, his eyes cold. "Do you honestly think that's possible?"
Another guy laughed. "I hope not! Remember when he woke me up at 2 AM to help him with a Pinduoduo link just to stay in character? If I have to click one more discount link for a billionaire, I'm out."
The girl, Lore Ambers, leaned in. "When are you going to drop the act? You have a real fiancée waiting, you know."
Tray lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his head. "I'm in no rush to head to the altar."
"What? You're not bored yet? The 'Instant Noodle Princess' is twenty-six. You're literally burning through her best years."
"Poor girl. Make sure you write her a massive check when you're done playing house."
Tray exhaled a cloud of grey smoke, his face a mask of indifference. "Since when did you all become so sentimental?"
He has a fiancée.
Lauren wanted to storm in, to shatter the bottles over his head, to scream for an explanation. But her body wouldn't obey. Her throat felt constricted, every breath of conditioned air felt like swallowing shards of glass.
She desperately wanted him to say it was a lie. To say he loved her. To say he was choosing her.
He didn't.
Six years of her life-six years of absolute loyalty-were nothing more than a punchline for his wealthy friends.
Retreating to a nearby doorway, she felt the chill of the hallway seep into her marrow. Her knees shook so violently she could barely stand. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number.
Inside the room, Tray checked his screen and held up a hand for silence.
"Put her on speaker!" someone whispered eagerly. "Let's hear the Princess's latest profession of love."
Tray obliged, clicking the speaker icon with casual grace.
Lauren's voice came through, thick and strained. "Are you still out making deliveries?"
Tray's voice transformed instantly-soft, doting, and warm. "Yeah, Lauren. It's a busy night with lots of orders. Go to sleep, don't wait up for me."
"God, he's good," someone mouthed silently. Tray shot them a warning look, his eyes turning back to ice, though his voice remained tender.
"Wait... is your voice okay? Have you been crying? Who upset you?"
The fake concern was the final blow. Lauren let a tear fall. "Tray... my mom is pushing the blind dates again. She wants me to marry someone else, but I told her I only want you."
The room went silent. Someone leaned in and whispered, "Careful, Tray. The Princess is hunting for a ring."
Tray's expression darkened. He began tapping his fingers rhythmically on the armrest, a sign of his growing boredom.
Finally, he spoke. "Lauren... I can't give you the kind of life you deserve."
It was the ultimate double entendre. As a "poor man," he had no money; as a rich heir, he had no intention of making her his wife.
Lauren gripped the phone, offering him one final exit.
"I found a deal on an apartment in Yorkville. I put the deposit down. I'm only 50,000 short of the full down payment."
"Tray, let's just get married."
The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds. Lauren watched his motionless silhouette through the gap in the door and felt her heart finally turn to ash.
She let out a hollow, bitter laugh.
"You can't, can you?"
"You won't marry me."
In the room, the friends were rolling their eyes.
"The audacity," one whispered. "A toad dreaming of a swan."
"Just end it, Lauren."
Tray finally gritted his teeth, his voice tight. "Lauren, I didn't say... I didn't say never, but can you just give me some-"
"No," Lauren interrupted, wiping her face clean. She was done being a punchline.
Even if the love was still there, her dignity had finally returned.
"Tray, since marriage isn't on the table, we're done. Let's break up."
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