As I was waiting for the elevator, someone
appeared behind me. The scent of tobacco
mixed with mint. I would have known who it was
even with my eyes closed.
We stood there, neither of us speaking.
“Slept with him?” Ethan finally asked, his voice
dripping with sarcasm.
I stared at the elevator numbers as they
changed. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “He’s much
better than you.”
“Do you know who owns this hotel?” Ethan
suddenly grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at
him. “Daniel Reed.”
“It took him a while, but I finally got him to
وو
く
“In three days, David Reed’s dirty laundry will
be aired for all to see. Sarah Mitchell, do you
think you’ll cry when I destroy your fiancé?”
I glared at him. “You’re the one who played
games with my feelings. Was I wrong to leave?”
Ethan gave a cruel smile. “Sarah Mitchell, you
dare accuse me of playing games? What about
when you took my money?”
I froze. “What money?”
“$2,000, straight into your bank account. You
want me to show you the proof?”
$2,000? The only $2,000 I’d ever received was
my graduation scholarship.
“That $2,000 was the scholarship Lisa helped
me apply for,” I said earnestly.
Ethan looked at me with disgust. “Sarah
Mitchell, do you know why I can’t stand you?”
He let go of me and stepped into the elevator. “You’re a liar who never admits she’s wrong.”
The elevator doors closed. I was left standing there, stunned.
Before graduation, Lisa had come to me and said, “Sarah, the school is giving out scholarships for outstanding graduates. I applied for you, too!” We’d been roommates for four years; our information was often on the same forms. It was common for us to submit documents for each other.
Half a month later, Lisa told me, “The money was wired directly to your bank account.” It had been exactly $2,000. After my accident, I hadn’t even thought to ask where I could see the list of scholarship recipients.
I sent Lisa a message: “Was the scholarship
you helped me apply for really from the
school?”
Lisa replied quickly: “Sarah, what are you
talking about? When did I ever help you apply
for a scholarship?”
- 5.
“Miss Mitchell, I’m afraid in your current
condition, you won’t be able to dance again.” It
was the umpteenth time I’d heard a doctor say
those words.
It started to drizzle as I left the hospital. A
classmate texted me: “She told you to your
face. There’s no chat log. You know what that
means.”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t sue.”
I stood in the rain, holding my umbrella, and
sighed. The hurt and anger welled up inside me,
then turned to ash.
A black Rolls Royce pulled up silently beside
- me. The window rolled down, revealing Daniel’s
face. The fine rain obscured our vision.
I only heard him say calmly, “Sarah, get in.”
I hadn’t expected him to come pick me up. He
was so busy, even in the car, he was working.
“What did the doctor say?” he asked, taking a
break from his work.
