Played Me for a Fool

Three years ago, my girlfriend suffered severe post-traumatic stress after saving my life. She later had a speech impairment that kept her from speaking normally.

To cure her, I take on three jobs a day and survive on only bread and water just to come up with the money for her therapy and speech recovery treatment.

I happen to be working part-time as a cocktail party waiter one evening when I see my girlfriend, who supposedly has a speech impairment, standing in a fancy dress and being fawned over by the crowd around her.

Everyone is calling her "Ms. Holden" and "the heiress of the Holden family".

But how can an orphan like her possibly be an heiress?

"I'll do anything as long as it makes you happy, Aaron."

"Did you lie to me just to make him happy, too?"

Felicia Holden went rigid at the sound of my voice. She immediately shoved the man she'd been speaking to aside and whirled to face me. "Julian, what are you doing here? I can explain—"

The ornate, expensive evening gown and the dazzling jewelry she wore were a stark contrast with my waiter uniform. I gazed down at my stained uniform and the rag in my hand. I couldn't help the self-deprecating smile that tugged at my lips.

"What is there for you to explain? That your speech impairment miraculously went away without medical treatment? Or what you're doing at a fancy club like this?"

Panic flickered in Felicia's eyes. Her lips quivered, but no words came out of her mouth.

I suppressed the rage that boiled within me and tossed my rag at her. "Did you enjoy seeing me run around with deliveries, or working myself to the bone as a janitor and security guard?"

Unadulterated anger bubbled up within me at the thought of all the hardship I'd endured in the last three years to come up with the money for Felicia's treatment. I snapped, "You're not an orphan, and you don't have a speech impairment! Why did you lie to me?"

The commotion caught the attention of the surrounding crowd, who began to toss curious looks in our direction. Sensing this, Felicia and the man she'd been speaking to earlier dragged me to the corridor at the side.

"Julian, don't make a scene here, okay? We'll talk about this when we get home."

"Home? What home?" I smacked Felicia's hand away and shoved her aside roughly. "Stay the hell away from me, Felicia! I never want to see you again!"

My roar echoed down the corridor.

Felicia stood in place. Guilt and shame flickered in her eyes, but she did not explain any further. Instead, she said quietly, "I'll pay you back every last dollar and cent, and throw in extra as compensation."

Just like that, she'd reduced the three years of my blood, sweat, and tears into a simple transaction without so much as a sincere apology. My blood boiled with rage, and without hesitation, I grabbed the mop beside me and swung it at Felicia and the man.

There was a splash as filthy water got all over them.

The man finally lost it. He swore loudly, then raised his fist as he lunged at me. "You have some nerve!"

But before he could reach me, Felicia cut him off and warned, "Watch yourself. Nothing good can come from making a scene here."

However, the man was undeterred. "I won't have him raise his voice at you!"

Felicia wrapped her arms around him, and it was only through placating words that she got him to calm down. He sauntered up to me arrogantly, eyeing me with contempt. "What, you still can't remember me even though you've been glowering at me for so long?"

I thought he'd looked familiar when I first saw him, but I couldn't put a finger on it.

He snorted indifferently, then turned to wipe Felicia's face with a tissue as he grumbled, "You don't know when to stop, Felicia. You could've toyed with this guy for a couple of weeks, but you just had to kick things up a notch and string him along for three years! The poor bumpkin's attached to you now!"

Felicia did not stop the man, though I caught her shooting an uneasy look at me.

As it turned out, I'd been nothing more than a plaything for the rich and glamorous pair before me.

Upon seeing the blood drain from my face, the man approached me, his smile snide. "Don't you remember me, Julian? It's me, Aaron Schumer."

My mind imploded. Of course I remembered Aaron! He was the only son of Lewis Schumer, a businessman whose net worth was in the billions!

Three years ago, I watched as the paramedics surrounded Felicia, fussing over her. The scene of the accident was pure chaos. My heart had leaped to my throat as guilt and helplessness seized me, turning my mind blank.

At that moment, Aaron stepped out of his fancy car with a bottle of water in his hand. He'd asked me worriedly, "Hey, buddy, you alright?"

He continued to comfort me until my panic gradually eased.

Felicia and I had been walking along a narrow street when an out-of-control motorcycle hurtled toward us. She'd reacted quickly and shoved me aside, only to be hit by it. She passed out on the spot.

Aaron had stayed and comforted me for a while. He handed me a business card afterward, saying, "I know a really good attorney. Call me if you need any help."