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.

The autumn wind blew across the lake. Dahlia pulled her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, shivering on the wooden bench.

A few gray pigeons landed near her boots. She sighed. She dug a piece of stale bread out of her pocket, crushed it, and dropped the crumbs.

An old man in a gray tracksuit walked slowly toward the bench. He leaned heavily on a wooden cane.

"May I sit?" the man asked.

Dahlia nodded. She slid over to the edge of the bench.

The man sat down. He pulled a battered metal thermos from his pocket. His hands shook slightly as he unscrewed the cap and took a sip of hot water.

"The wind is biting today," he said. His voice was raspy but warm.

Dahlia didn't want to talk. But the man's calm energy made the tight knot in her shoulders loosen.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, the man asked a simple question about her day.

Dahlia didn't know why, but the dam broke. Maybe it was because he was a stranger.

"I just told my mother a massive lie," Dahlia blurted out. She let out a bitter laugh. "I told her I have a new boyfriend to stop her from worrying. Now I need to magically produce a husband to get everyone off my back."

The old man listened. He didn't interrupt. His eyes were sharp and clear.

He nodded slowly. "Life forces us into corners. But sometimes, a window opens when you least expect it."

Suddenly, the man's face turned completely gray. He dropped his thermos. He clutched his chest. His breathing turned into rapid, wet gasps.

Dahlia jumped up. Panic spiked in her veins.

"Do you need an ambulance?" she yelled, reaching for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the screen. The memory of her father's sudden collapse flashed in her mind, sending a jolt of pure panic through her chest. She quickly dialed 911. She gave the dispatcher their exact location by the lake. "My name is Dahlia Mcdonald," she said into the receiver, her voice shaking. She recited her phone number. "Please hurry. He looks like he's having a heart attack." She stayed on the line, acting as a witness just in case he lost consciousness.

The man waved his hand frantically. He dug into his tracksuit pocket and pulled out a small orange pill bottle. He popped a pill into his mouth and swallowed hard.

He took three deep breaths. The color slowly returned to his cheeks.

"Just an old problem," he wheezed.

Voices echoed from the paved path behind the trees. People were shouting a name.

The man's eyes darted toward the sound. He grabbed his cane and forced himself to stand.

The old man looked at her tired, defeated posture. A profound sadness flickered in his clear eyes. He thought of his own family, of the heavy burdens placed on young shoulders.

"You are a good kid," he said firmly. "I hope you find someone who truly deserves you. I just wish my own grandson could find a kind girl like you to share his life with."

Dahlia forced a polite smile. She thought he was just being kind.

The man turned and walked quickly into the trees. Despite his limp, he carried himself with an odd sense of authority.

Dahlia watched him disappear. Her heart rate finally slowed down.

She walked back to her apartment. She opened her laptop and worked until her eyes burned.

The next morning, a sharp ring shattered the silence.

Dahlia shot up in bed. She grabbed her phone. The caller ID showed Seattle General Hospital.

She answered. A nurse's panicked voice filled her ear.

"An elderly patient named Augustine is in critical condition. He is demanding to see you."