Play Poor? Be One

Before Mom's surgery, Mason—yeah, the Mason Leonhart from one of Brighton's big-name families—suddenly "had" to go on a business trip and couldn't be at the hospital.

A few hours later, Judy Yeager blasted a video on social.

There was Mason, Mr. Born-With-A-Silver-Spoon, recycling bottles with her.

Caption: [If we work hard together, no hardship can scare us.]

I couldn't resist.

[Future Leonhart heir, worth ten billion, still helping his girl recycle bottles to trade in for cash—heartwarming.]

It vanished in seconds.

My phone lit up. Mason's voice? Ice cold.

"Shiloh Harrington, what was that? Call Judy. Tell her you were joking."

I laughed. "Keep playing your little poor-boy cosplay without me."

Hung up.

Three days till the divorce cooling-off ended. Then Mason could be the broke man he was pretending to be.

Mason kept spamming my phone, but I killed the call every time before it even hit a second.

Mom pushed herself up in bed, voice weak. "You used to be crazy about him. That's the only reason his grandpa even thought about making him heir. You think a guy like him could've scored all this on his own?"

I wrapped my hand around her frail arm, chest tight. "Not anymore. I'm divorcing him. Everything he's got came from me, and I'm taking it back."

The phone lit up again. He just wouldn't quit.

I answered.

His breathing was slow, like he was forcing down rage. "I already paid for Judy's mom's treatment. Told her it was from you. If she asks, you know the script. Can't handle that? We're done."

"Play poor without me. I've been done for a long time."

"Say that again." His voice was all teeth and fury.

Bitterness burned my throat, but I kept it even. "I said I'm done. We're getting a divorce."

He snapped. "Divorce? You think that scares me? If you hadn't clung to me, I wouldn't have married you. Go explain everything to Judy. We'll talk when I'm back."

He roared it, then hung up.

I bit down hard. Years wasted, and all I was to him was "clingy." Being with him had been a mistake from day one.

My fingers brushed over the Leonhart banquet invite. Five days till they announced the heir. Plenty of time to change the ending.

On my way to grab Mom's lunch, I spotted Judy—smug, glowing like she'd just scored big. I tried to breeze past, but her high-pitched, fake-sweet voice cut through the hall.

"Shiloh! Money comes in slow when you've got a real job. Good thing you lent me some!"

I smirked. "Yeah, but you rake it in faster doing nothing. Just open your mouth and take it from our family. The future Leonhart heir spends more on a pet than that."

"Shut up! Shiloh, what nonsense are you spouting? Explain it to Judy."

I folded my arms, laughing. "Explain what? That we're getting a divorce so you two can play house? Or that you're not broke—yet—but give it a little time and you'll be out here recycling bottles for spare change?"