"It's cute, Dray. Does it come with a magnifying glass, or do we have to squint to see your life savings?"
The voice belonged to Rayna, Lina's younger sister, and it cut through the soft jazz of the ballroom like a rusted blade. I didn't look up immediately. I kept my eyes on Lina. She was breathtaking in a silk gown that probably cost more than my four years of college tuition, her hand resting in mine.
I had just slid the ring onto her finger. It wasn't a five-carat rock that could blind a pilot. It was a modest, clear diamond on a white gold band, bought after three years of skipping meals and working double shifts at the tech firm.
"It's perfect, Rayna," Lina said, her voice firm, though I felt her fingers tremble slightly.
"Perfectly pathetic," her father, Arthur Darkson, boomed as he stepped into our circle. He didn't look at me; he never did.
He looked at my hand as if it were a stain on his daughter's skin.
"Lina, the champagne is forty years older than this boy. Do you really want to tie yourself to a man who considers a month's rent an investment?"
The guests who had come to witness Lina Darkson's engagement laughed. It was polite, yet it stung.
This was my engagement party, held in a mansion that felt like a fortress designed to keep people like me out.
"Dad, stop," Lina whispered, pulling me closer. "I love him. We've been over this since high school."
"High school was a phase, Lina," her mother, Eleanor, joined in, swirling a glass of Bordeaux as she joined our small circle.
Yes, I was left out. Like I always was. They talked about me while I was in the room as if I wasn't present.
"Marriage is a merger. And right now, you're merging with a void," Eleanor said finally looking at me this time.
"Tell me, Dray Hudson, is it true you're still working out of a garage? I heard the neighbors complained about the smell of 'innovation'—or was that just your burnt-out dreams?"
I forced a smile, though my jaw ached from the tension.
"It's a software architecture, Mrs. Darkson. It's about building something that lasts ages to come and revolutionize the financial space, not just something that looks good on a balance sheet."
"Building something?" A new voice interrupted, smooth and oily.
Oh God. This had to be a gang up. But I was used to being treated this way.
Or at least, I kept letting myself take it for Lina's sake.
I didn't need to turn around to know it was Rico. Rico Vane, the heir to the Vane Shipping empire and the man the Darksons had hand-picked for Lina since she was twelve. He stepped forward, adjusting his cufflinks, looking every bit the prince I wasn't.
"Dray, buddy," Rico said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
"I actually did some research on your little project. 'Aegis,' right? I mentioned it to my father's CTO. He said it was a 'quaint' hobby. If you ever need a real job—something with a steady paycheck and health insurance—we're looking for someone to help with the data entry in our basement. It pays twenty an hour. That's probably double what you make now, isn't it?"
I shifted my shoulder, shaking his hand off.
"I'm doing just fine, Rico. Keep your charity for your tax write-offs."
Rico's eyes flashed, but the smirk stayed. He turned to Lina, his voice dropping to a theatrical stage whisper.
"Lina, darling, you know I only want the best for you. Look at this ring. If you wear this to the Gala next week, people won't think you're engaged. They'll think you're helping the help."
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small navy blue box. He flipped it open. Inside sat a necklace—a teardrop emerald surrounded by a halo of diamonds that caught the light of the chandeliers and shattered it into a thousand pieces.
"This is a friendship gift," Rico said, his eyes mocking mine.
"Just to show you what a real stone coming from a man like melooks like. Since your fiancé clearly can't provide the basics."
"Rico, I can't accept that," Lina said, but her eyes lingered on the emerald for a second too long.
"Why not? It's just a bauble," Eleanor Darkson chimed in.
"Unlike that trinket on your finger, this actually has value."
She turned to me.
"Dray, you don't mind, do you? Surely you aren't so insecure that you'd deny Lina a beautiful gift just because you couldn't afford it yourself?"
The trap was set. If I said no, I was the jealous, controlling poor boy. If I said yes, I was the man who let another man adorn his fiancée.
"Lina has everything she needs," I said, my voice low and steady.
"She has my heart. And soon, she'll have the life I'm building for her. She doesn't need your family's leftovers, Rico."
"Leftovers?" Rico laughed, a sharp, barking sound.
"Hudson, you're standing in a house you couldn't buy in ten lifetimes, eating food you couldn't pronounce an hour ago, and you're talking about leftovers?"
I stepped toward him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Say that again."
"Dray, don't!" Lina grabbed my arm. Her face was flushed, her eyes wet.
"Everyone, please! This is supposed to be a celebration! It's my engagement, for crying out loud!"
"It is a celebration, sweetheart," Arthur said, stepping between me and Rico.
"We're celebrating your last mistake. Because when you finally realize that love doesn't pay the property taxes on a penthouse, we'll be here to help you sign the annulment papers."
He turned to the room, raising his glass.
"A toast to my daughter, Lina. May she eventually find the clarity to see that a diamond in the dirt... is still just dirt."
The room erupted in a chorus of
"To Lina!" as they turned their backs on me.
They began to drift away, following the scent of money and power toward the buffet, leaving me and Lina standing in a small circle of isolation.
Lina turned to me, her hands taking mine.
"Don't listen to them, Dray. I don't care about the emerald. I don't care what my father says. It's just us. Remember? High school, the bleachers, the promises? It's just us."
I looked at her, at the woman who had been my North Star since we were sixteen. She looked sincere. She looked like she still believed in the dream. But as I looked past her, I saw Rico leaning against the bar, watching us with a predatory grin. He caught my eye and mouthed four words that chilled me more than any insult her father had thrown:
She won't wait forever.
"I know, Lina," I said, forcing the bitterness back down.
"It's just us. I'm going to finish the software. I'm going to give you everything they think I can't."
"I know you will," she whispered, kissing my cheek.
"I'm going to go talk to my mom, try to smooth things over. Stay here? Get a drink? I'll be right back."
I watched her walk away, her silhouette moving gracefully through a crowd of people who despised my existence. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I expected Rico again, but it was a waiter, holding a silver tray with a single envelope on it.
"Mr. Hudson? Someone asked me to give this to you."
I took the envelope. It was heavy, cream-colored paper. I opened it, expecting more insults. Instead, there was a single printed sheet—a bank statement.
It was a statement for a joint account in the names of Lina Darkson and Rico Vane. The balance was eight figures. And the most recent transaction, dated yesterday, was a wire transfer for a "Down payment on 5th Ave Penthouse."
My blood went cold. Lina had told me she was looking for apartments for us in Brooklyn.
But Rico paid?