The screech of the subway brakes echoed in Dahlia's ears. Mrs. Rose's voice cut through the noise. It was an order for afternoon tea, not an invitation.

"I will be there in an hour," Dahlia said. Her voice held zero emotion. She ended the call.

She walked back into her cramped apartment. The sky outside the dirty window was turning black. Thick clouds rolled in.

Dahlia walked to her cheap dresser. She pulled open the top drawer. She reached all the way to the back and pulled out a dark blue velvet box.

Her thumb rested on the soft fabric for one second.

She popped the lid open. The five-carat pink diamond sat perfectly still inside. It was the ring Kirt had given her.

A brief ache squeezed her throat. She remembered the day he put it on her finger. But the memory faded fast, replaced by the cold reality of her bank account.

She snapped the box shut. She shoved it deep into her purse. She ordered an Uber on her phone.

The car drove into the gated community. Heavy rain began to smash against the windshield. The drops sounded like rocks hitting the glass.

The driver looked at the massive iron gates in front of them. He glanced at Dahlia through the rearview mirror.

The red light on the security camera blinked as it scanned her face. A heavy mechanical clunk echoed in the rain. The iron gates slowly groaned open, allowing the modest Uber to pass through the heavily guarded perimeter. The contrast between her cheap ride and the sprawling estate made her chest tighten.

Dahlia handed the driver a cash tip as the car pulled right up to the massive front porch. She pushed the car door open. She stepped out, her eyes immediately locking onto a brand-new, bright red Porsche parked in the prime spot. It was Kirt's. The sight of it-a frivolous, million-dollar purchase made while her family drowned in debt-sent a hot spike of anger through her veins. She gripped the strap of her bag, her knuckles turning white. The wind whipped a stray gust of freezing rain against her bare legs as she rushed to the covered entryway.

She reached the massive front porch. She brushed the water off her trench coat.

The double oak doors pulled open from the inside. Maeve, the head housekeeper, stood there in her stiff uniform.

Maeve looked at Dahlia's wet clothes. A flicker of pity crossed her eyes. She handed Dahlia a dry white towel.

"Thank you," Dahlia said. She wiped the cold water from her cheeks. She kept her spine completely straight.

"Madam is waiting in the sunroom," Maeve said in a robotic tone. "Please change into the guest slippers. The carpets were just cleaned."

Dahlia stepped out of her muddy leather shoes. She slid her cold feet into the thin slippers. Her movements were slow and deliberate.

She walked down the long hallway. The air smelled heavily of expensive agarwood and fresh roses. It made her head throb.

She looked at the console table against the wall. The silver framed photo of her and Kirt was gone. The tabletop was completely bare.

Her chest tightened. That empty space confirmed exactly what was about to happen.

Dahlia stopped in front of the French glass doors of the sunroom. She sucked in a lungful of air.

Maeve pushed the doors open and announced her.

Mrs. Rose sat on a velvet armchair. She held a cup of Darjeeling tea. She did not look up.

The rain hammered against the glass roof of the sunroom. Inside, the heater blew warm air. The physical difference made Dahlia feel sick.

Dahlia walked to the empty sofa across from Mrs. Rose. She did not wait for permission. She sat down.

Mrs. Rose finally lifted her chin. Her sharp eyes cut across Dahlia's damp hair.

Mrs. Rose set her teacup down on the saucer. The porcelain clinked loudly in the quiet room.

"Your father left a massive hole," Mrs. Rose said. She stated the exact dollar amount of the Mcdonald family debt.

Dahlia did not argue. She reached her hand into her purse. Her fingers wrapped around the velvet box.

Mrs. Rose reached into her Hermes bag. She pulled out a paper check. She slid it across the marble coffee table.

The number written on the line was five million dollars.

"This is compensation for your time with my son," Mrs. Rose said. "Take the money. Leave Seattle. Never speak to Kirt again."

Dahlia stared at the zeros on the check. A cold, hard smile broke across her face.

She did not touch the paper. She pulled her hand out of her purse. She placed the dark blue velvet box right next to the check.

Dahlia pressed the button. The box snapped open. The pink diamond caught the light from the chandelier.

Mrs. Rose's pupils shrank. Her breath hitched. She stared at the ring.

"I am handling my family's debt," Dahlia said. Her voice was ice. "I do not need your money."

Mrs. Rose scoffed. She crossed her arms.

"This is a game," Mrs. Rose sneered. "You think playing hard to get will make Kirt fight for you."

Dahlia pulled her phone from her pocket. She unlocked the screen. She tapped Kirt's name and hit the speaker button. She dropped the phone onto the marble table.

The line rang twice. Kirt picked up.

"Dahlia? Baby, are you okay?" Kirt's voice filled the room. He sounded frantic.

Mrs. Rose's face turned pale. She opened her mouth to yell, but Dahlia shot her a glare so lethal it froze the older woman in place.

"Kirt," Dahlia said into the microphone. Her tone was completely flat. "The engagement is off."

A heavy silence fell over the line.

"What?" Kirt's voice cracked. "Why? Let me come see you."

"No," Dahlia cut him off. "I am tired of this. I don't love you anymore. It's over."

Kirt started begging. His voice broke.

Dahlia did not let him finish. She slammed her finger onto the red button. The call ended.

She tapped the screen three more times. She blocked his number. She did it right in front of his mother's eyes.

Dahlia stood up. She looked down at Mrs. Rose.

"I have nothing to do with the Rose family anymore," Dahlia stated.

She turned around. Her heels hit the wooden floor with heavy, final thuds.

Mrs. Rose sat frozen, staring at the diamond ring and the untouched check.

Dahlia pushed the sunroom doors open. Maeve stood in the hall. The housekeeper looked at Dahlia with wide eyes.

Dahlia walked out the front doors. She did not open her umbrella. She stepped directly into the freezing downpour.

The rain soaked through her coat instantly. The water ran down her face. She couldn't tell if her eyes were leaking tears or just catching the storm.

The heavy iron gates clanged shut behind her. The sound vibrated in her chest.

Dahlia stood on the curb. She inhaled the smell of wet dirt. Her lungs expanded. She felt completely free.

A yellow cab pulled up. Dahlia yanked the door open and slid onto the vinyl seat. She gave the driver her address.

The heater blasted her wet legs. She leaned her head back against the window and closed her eyes.

Her phone buzzed in her wet pocket. She pulled it out.

It was a text from Cindi: "Are you home? I need to see you."

Dahlia dragged her soaked trench coat up the stairs of her apartment building. She shoved the rusty key into the lock and twisted hard.

She pushed the door open. Cindi was sitting on the faded fabric sofa. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Cindi jumped up. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and started rubbing Dahlia's wet hair.

"Did the Rose family force you to break the engagement?" Cindi's voice shook. "Because of your father's bankruptcy?"

Dahlia's chest physically ached. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile.

She grabbed her mother's hands. They were trembling.

"No, Mom," Dahlia lied. "I ended it. It had nothing to do with the money."

Cindi shook her head. "You loved him. I know you did. What happened?"

Out in the narrow hallway, Eveline stood perfectly still. She had maliciously followed her stepmother's car all the way across town, driven by a petty need to see Dahlia's misery up close. The smell of the cheap hallway made her wrinkle her nose in pure disgust. She leaned forward, a cruel smirk playing on her lips, and pressed her ear flat against the thin wood of Dahlia's door.

Dahlia's brain raced. She needed a reason that would stop her mother from digging.

She took a deep breath.

"I met someone else," Dahlia said. The lie tasted like ash in her mouth.

Cindi gasped. Her eyes went wide.

"He is just a normal guy," Dahlia kept digging the hole deeper. "But he makes me feel safe."

On the other side of the door, Eveline clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.

Eveline balled her hand into a fist and pounded on the door. The loud bangs made Cindi jump.

Dahlia frowned. She marched to the door and yanked it open.

Eveline pushed past her. She stepped into the tiny living room. Her eyes scanned the cheap furniture with pure disgust.

"Congratulations on losing the billionaire," Eveline mocked. "And who is this mysterious new boyfriend? Does he live in a dumpster?"

Cindi's face turned red. She stepped forward to defend Dahlia.

"Let's meet him," Eveline challenged. She crossed her arms. "Call him right now."

Dahlia's spine snapped straight. She pointed a rigid finger at the open doorway.

"Get out of my apartment," Dahlia ordered. Her voice was dangerously low.

Eveline blinked. The raw anger in Dahlia's eyes made her take a step back. Eveline scoffed, flipped her hair, and walked out. Her heels clicked loudly down the hall.

Dahlia slammed the door shut.

Cindi looked at Dahlia. She pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from her purse and set them on the table.

"Call me if you need anything," Cindi whispered, before quietly leaving.

The lock clicked. Dahlia was alone.

Her knees gave out. She slid down the back of the door until she hit the floor. She buried her face in her hands.

The lie was a ticking bomb. She had no boyfriend. She had nothing.

The walls of the tiny apartment felt like they were closing in on her. Her lungs burned. She couldn't breathe.

She grabbed her keys and ran out the door.

She walked aimlessly through the Seattle streets until she saw the green trees of a public park.

She found a wooden bench by the lake and sat down. She stared at the dark water. Her mind was a complete mess.