Chapter 4The Tow-Away Zone

His words were like a slap. Suddenly, all the little red flags I’d ignored for years snapped into focus.

The time I spent half my student loan refund on new Nikes for him because his were falling apart. He’d "refused" to take them.

“Babe, you can't spend this much on me. I’m not worth it. I’m used to having nothing...”

I’d practically begged him to accept them, my heart aching for him. I didn't notice how his eyes were glued to the box the entire time.

He used my pity against me then, just like he was using public opinion now. He was weaponizing my success to keep me under his thumb.

I was done.

I looked straight at him and, in a clear, carrying voice, I said:

“I’m sorry, but I am not your chauffeur or your maid.”

“Move out of my own apartment to pay you rent, hand-wash your clothes, and drive you to work? I’d have to be brain-dead.”

“And that house? We both agreed the down payment and the title would be in your name only. So how, exactly, are you 'buying it for me'? Or are you planning to put my name on the deed now?”

He was speechless. His face turned purple.

“I… I was being sincere,” he stammered. “Why do you have to be so... so petty?”

Petty?

I just laughed, turned, and walked out.

When I got home, I told my parents everything. My dad slammed his fist on the table. “I knew that kid was a user! I could smell the calculation on him!”

My mom just hugged me. “Good thing we bought that car. It just saved you from a lifetime of misery.”

My dad sighed. “It’s not over. A guy like that, who’s willing to make a public scene? He won't let this go easily.”

My mom scoffed. “What’s he going to do? Show up here? I’ll call the cops.”

But she was wrong. He didn't come to the house. He came to my new job.