Five years I'd been gone, and I was finally back to propose to Doris Pruitt.
I'd packed a truck with gifts—every one hand-picked—but before I even made it through the gate, her mother flung a basin of dirty water straight into my face.
‘Deadbeat! The engagement between you and our Dory is off! Stop hanging around her!’
Her father tapped his pipe against his palm, eyes drifting to the small cargo truck parked behind me.
Then his gaze swept down to my work pants, washed so many times they'd gone white.
‘Job Delgado. Stay away from Dory. Five years out there and you haven't made a damn thing of yourself—rolled back in that piece-of-junk truck like that's supposed to impress somebody? You're not in her league anymore.’
‘That childhood engagement? Forget it.’
‘Our family's got three relocation apartments now. Millions in buyout compensation. If Dory's marrying anyone, it's someone who's actually made something of himself.’
I squeezed my soaked sleeve where the dirty water had hit.
My eyes found Doris.
Five years ago, the girl who swore she'd wait for me to come back.
Now dressed head to toe in designer labels, her voice nothing like the softness I remembered.
‘What are you staring at? This is on you—you couldn't hack it out there! Our family's way beyond anything you could ever touch!’
I looked at the gifts soaking in dirty water, then at Doris walking away without a backward glance, and I accepted her parents' words calmly.
‘Alright. I'll respect your wishes.’
The moment I turned to leave, a smile crossed my face.
They had no idea. The redevelopment, the fortune, all of it—every cent they were so proud of had only ever existed because I allowed it.
Since the engagement was off, I'd be taking all of it back……
……
‘Wait!’
I'd barely turned around before Doris called out behind me.
In the time it took me to face her, she'd already rushed over and shoved a heavy wooden box into my arms.
It slipped and dropped straight to the ground.
‘Take all this junk you've been pawning off on me! Just looking at it makes me sick!’
The old wooden box hit the dirt and cracked in half.
Five years of gifts I'd sent Doris, scattered across the ground.
The first letter I ever wrote her—scrawled on a bunk in a work shed the week I left—and she told me she'd cried when she read it. Looking at it now, I could see that was true: the paper was still warped with tear stains.
The silver necklace I bought with my first month's pay. She said she never took it off. That was true too—the links were thinned and dull from years of wear against her skin.
It was one half of a matching pair. I was still wearing mine.
My assistant had reminded me more times than I could count that the necklace no longer fit who I'd become.
I still wouldn't take it off.
I looked away, and my eyes landed on the necklace Doris was wearing now. Brand new. Dripping with rhinestones.
A dime-a-dozen design.
Cheaper than what I spent on a single meal these days.
I'd always thought that kind of jewelry wasn't worthy of her.
In the trunk of my car sat a blue diamond necklace worth three hundred million.
I'd brought it for her today.
She always told me she hated flashy things, that she wasn't the kind of girl who cared about money.
I didn't understand how she'd turned into this.
I bent down and picked up the tear-stained letter, looking at Doris, and the second my fingers touched the paper, something in my chest went soft.
‘Dory, you said you'd wait for me. I don't know what happened. I……’
‘I'm getting married.’
Those four words killed everything I was about to say.
I'd wanted to tell her that money was the one thing I had no shortage of—that if money was what she needed, she only had to ask.
As the man running every redevelopment buyout across Harbor City,
