Chapter 3My Ex Traded Gold For Trash

She wanted me to understand that I was nothing without her. She could give me a face, or she could grind it into the dirt.

While the crowd waited for me to crumble and beg, I did the opposite. With a face like stone, I unbuttoned the jacket and shrugged it off. Then the vest. Then the shirt. I threw the expensive fabric into the nearest trash bin without a word.

I ignored the flash of shock in Marina’s eyes as I walked out of the hotel in nothing but my undershirt and slacks, never looking back.

Outside, the New York sky had opened up. A cold, biting rain was falling. I tried to hail a cab, only to realize my phone was dead—I’d spent the whole day coordinating her event and hadn't had a chance to charge it.

All my ID, my keys, my life was back at the estate. I had no choice but to walk.

The thin cotton of my shirt was soaked through within minutes, clinging to my skin. I must have looked like a wreck, earning stares from the few people out on the streets.

It was near midnight by the time I reached the gates of the Ashford estate. The neighborhood was silent, eerie.

I noticed three men in hoodies following me. They’d been behind me for several blocks, matching my pace, drifting closer every time I looked back. My skin crawled.

I sprinted to the front door, heart hammering against my ribs, and punched in the security code.

Access Denied.

She had changed the locks.

The three men stopped under a tree just a few yards away, their silhouettes dark against the streetlights. They were laughing—a low, predatory sound. They were watching me like a trapped animal, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Panic flared in my chest. I hammered on the door, ringing the bell over and over. No one answered.

Suddenly, a second-story window slid open. Marina appeared, her hair damp, wearing a silk robe. She didn't look worried; she looked bored.

She picked up a suitcase and tossed it out the window. It hit the wet pavement with a heavy thud, bursting open and spilling my clothes into the puddles. The light from the room behind her caught the dark bruises—hickeys—on her neck.

"You wanted to be independent, Desmond? Then take your trash and get off my property."

"I’ve frozen your cards. I doubt the change in your Venmo is enough to cover a week at a motel."

I didn't care about her insults. I looked at the tree where the men were standing. "Marina, listen to me. There are men following me. They're right there. Please, just let me in for five minutes to call a ride."

Marina hesitated, glancing toward the shadows. "What? Des, if this is another lie—"

A pair of pale hands reached out from behind her, pulling her back. Cody appeared in the window, wearing my favorite pajamas. He gave me a mocking wave.

"Des, man, this is a gated community. Security doesn't let 'thugs' in without a pass. You're really going to lie to her after embarrassing her tonight? That’s low, even for a gold-digger."

He looked at Marina. "Marina, if you keep letting him play you, people are going to think you're weak. He needs to learn his lesson."

Marina’s face hardened into a mask of disgust.

"You’re pathetic, Desmond. You want to play the victim? Fine. Stay out there in the rain. Maybe it’ll wash the delusions out of your head."

"I want a public apology on your socials by tomorrow morning. If you don't beg for my forgiveness, don't ever show your face again. Without me, you're nothing. You're used goods, Des. Nobody else is going to want you."

She slammed the window shut. Through the sheer curtains, I saw their silhouettes merge, swaying in a slow, cruel dance.

The world went cold.

The three men stepped out from the shadows, grinning. "Hey, kid. That bag looks like it’s got some nice stuff in it. Why don't you let us take care of that for you?"

"Don't worry," one laughed, pulling a knife. "We’re just 'borrowing' it. We don't do refunds."

They lunged, covering my mouth and dragging me toward the dark corner of the driveway. I fought, kicking wildly, until the sound of a car door slamming echoed through the night.

It wasn't Marina.

It was a middle-aged couple from the house across the street. They’d just pulled in and seen the struggle. The thugs, seeing witnesses, dropped my bag and bolted into the night.

The husband helped me up, offering me a place to stay, but I couldn't bear to be a burden. He gave me a dry sweatshirt and a pair of old track pants, then drove me to a nearby hotel.

Marina had been thorough. She’d kept the car she "gave" me and the watches she’d bought. But she didn't realize that I never needed her things. I had my own.

I borrowed a charger from the front desk. Tomorrow, I was going home.

But as my Uber pulled away the next morning, the driver took a sharp, unexpected turn onto the highway. A massive man sitting in the passenger seat turned around, staring at me with a cold, professional intensity.

I reached for my phone, but the driver spoke first.

"Mr. Sterling, today is Mr. West’s birthday. Ms. Ashford is throwing a garden party at her estate."

"And you," he said, pointing a finger at me, "are the surprise guest."

The man in the passenger seat cracked his knuckles. "Ms. Ashford said if you're a good boy and make Mr. West happy, she might reconsider the engagement."

He pointed to the window. "We're on the I-95. If you try to jump, you'll be red mist before you hit the asphalt. Keep your hands where I can see them. You're just a charity case, kid. Don't start thinking you're the master of the house."

I realized then that Marina wasn't just done with me. She wanted to own me. I sat back, silently putting my phone away.

The Ashford estate was transformed. It was even more lavish than the gala—a sea of white roses and expensive champagne.

Marina stood in the center of the lawn, her arm around Cody’s waist, laughing with the city's power brokers. They both wore their matching rings. To anyone else, it looked like a wedding.

When she saw me, she walked over, her eyes scanning me like I was a piece of meat.

"I heard you were trying to catch a flight. Where to? Back to whatever hole you crawled out of?"

My voice was flat. "Home. Is that a problem?"

She smirked, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. "So you finally realized that without me, you’re just a nobody from the Midwest who’ll end up working in a diner. I’m not heartless, Des. If you put this on and act as Cody’s 'pet' for the day, I’ll forget about last night. We can even get married next week."

She held up a wooden board, the size of a laptop. Carved into it were four words:

CODY WEST’S DOG.

I stared at her, disbelief warring with a rising tide of fury. "You want me to be his dog? In your dreams, Marina. He isn't fit to shine my shoes."

Marina’s expression turned to ice. "It’s Cody’s birthday. This is what he wants. I promised him he could have whatever he asked for today."

"Besides, you almost hurt him last night. You owe him."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small resin pendant. My heart stopped. Inside that resin were several strands of hair.

My mother’s hair.

She had died in a fire years ago. There was no grave, no body. Those strands of hair, which I’d collected from her hairbrush after the accident, were the only physical piece of her I had left.

Marina held the pendant over a nearby charcoal grill. "You’re big on 'meaning,' aren't you? If you don't do this, I’ll drop this in the coals. You’ll have nothing left of her."

I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they might shatter.

"Fine," I whispered. "I’ll do it."

The crowd cheered and laughed as I slipped the board over my neck. Phones came out, recording the humiliation. Marina beamed.

"Good boy. Remember, whatever Cody wants, you do. If he’s happy at the end of the night, you get your locket back. And your future."

I looked up, my face a mask of nothingness. "Can I use the restroom?"

Marina nodded but took my phone first. She signaled two guards to follow me.

She thought she had me trapped. But she didn't know that I had stopped running.

Inside the stall, I pressed a hidden button on the side of my watch. After a second of static, a woman’s voice—sharp and playful—filled the air.

"Big brother? I thought you were coming back to Chicago today. I brought a whole fleet to the airport to pick you up. Where are you?"

I took a deep breath. "I’m being held. She betrayed me. She’s trying to turn me into a pet for her latest fling."

"The Montgomery code: A debt is always paid, and a grudge is never forgotten. You know what to do."

The line went silent for a heartbeat. When Cassandra spoke again, the playfulness was gone. It was replaced by a cold, murderous edge.

"Give me the GPS. I’m coming. I’m going to bury that bitch."