Chapter 3

At seven the next morning, the moving truck pulled up downstairs.

Two movers came up with me.

I used yesterday's code to open the door and told them to start with the study.

As I passed the master bedroom, the door was ajar.

I pushed it open. Chloe stood in front of the full-length mirror, wearing my wedding dress.

A white satin haute couture gown.

Custom-made in Paris last year. The fabric alone cost eighty thousand.

She was turning sideways, admiring the curve of the skirt, but when she heard the door, the smile on her face froze instantly.

"Sum-Summer... I was just trying it on..."

She took a step back, her heel caught the hem, tearing a slit in the lace.

I pulled out my phone and snapped two photos of her and the tear in the dress.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs.

Ethan rushed down, first stunned at the movers, then saw me standing at the master bedroom door.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving my things," I said.

"Is this really necessary?" He blocked the doorframe, his tone softened, trying to concede.

"Cool down. I'll take you to get married tomorrow, okay?"

Chloe said softly from inside, "Ethan, I didn't mean to wear it..."

"Chloe, it's okay. Go change back."

Ethan turned to soothe her, then lowered his voice toward me. "Tomorrow. I promise."

I didn't look at him.

I pulled out my phone, opened the calculator, and turned the screen toward his face.

"This gown's fabric alone cost eighty thousand, labor another one hundred twenty thousand, plus custom fees, the total was two hundred thirty-six thousand. She tore the hem. With depreciation and damage, I'm charging you one hundred fifty thousand."

Ethan's expression froze for a second.

"What are you talking about?"

"Payment."

"She's just a kid."

"One hundred fifty thousand. Bank transfer or cash."

He stared at me, his mouth twitching.

"Fine."

He pulled out his phone and flashed his bank account balance at me.

One hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred.

In ten years, I'd put far more than that into this home.

That was all he had left in his account.

Before he could transfer the money, his phone rang.

The caller ID flashed: Mom.

I put it on speakerphone, and his mother's voice boomed out.

"Summer. Ethan told me you're causing a scene again? Chloe's just a young girl, she doesn't know any better. You're older, you should be more understanding. It's just a dress."

I reached out and hung up the phone.

Ethan's mouth opened. "You..."

I turned and walked into the master bedroom, stopping in front of Chloe.

She had already half-undressed, the white satin piled at her feet.

I bent down, picked up the wedding dress, and grabbed the scissors from the coffee table.

One snip, and the ripping sound of lace echoed in the room.

"Summer!"

The cold glint of the scissors flashed across the satin, and pieces of white fabric fell onto the floor.

Chloe clapped a hand over her mouth and retreated to the corner. By the time Ethan rushed in, the last piece of the skirt hem tore away in my hands.

The fragments fell in front of his feet.

"Two hundred thirty-six thousand."

I put down the scissors.

"She wore it, and your mom said I was petty. So no one gets it."

I turned and walked into the living room.

On the coffee table was the bill I'd painstakingly compiled last night: ten years of transactions, every date, amount, and purpose, printed on three pages.

"Take your time looking."

My canvas tote bag slung over my shoulder, I took my suitcase from the movers.

Ethan stood amidst the wreckage, his mouth open, no sound coming out.

The scissors lay at his feet, their metal surface reflecting the fluorescent light, cold and stark.

I walked to the door.

The door slammed shut, the loud bang echoing back from the hallway, making my feet tingle.

The elevator doors were open, the movers deferentially stepping aside.

I dragged my suitcase in and pressed the ground floor button.

In the last second before the doors closed, I heard the sound of a door pulling open from the end of the hallway.

But the elevator was already descending.