chapter 4

November in New York brought the rainy season, the water carrying a bone-chilling cold as it drummed a relentless staccato against the windows.

Inside Liam’s luxury apartment on Central Park West (CPW), the fireplace roared, yet Bella felt frozen to her marrow. The apartment was a classic pre-war build with soaring ceilings that always seemed to harbor a draft.

Two documents lay on the table: a check from Wells Fargo and a Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) thicker than a novella.

"Bella, we need to talk." Liam sat on the leather sofa, unable to meet her eyes. "The guest list for Thanksgiving dinner... it's full."

"Full?" Bella found it laughable. "I am your girlfriend, Liam. For five years. In those five years, whose turkey wasn't ordered by me? Whose aunt's vegetarian menu wasn't arranged by me?"

"I know, I know," Liam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But Mother invited Serena. The Vance family and the Sterling family have... you know, business dealings. It would be awkward if you were there. You know how obsessed the old guard is with 'appropriate matches'."

"So, you're dumping me for that woman who wears counterfeit jewelry?"

"Watch your mouth!" Liam suddenly raised his voice. "Serena is a lady of noble birth! She’s a Columbia graduate! And... we’ve decided to get engaged."

The air turned dead silent, save for the rain outside and the crackle of burning wood.

Liam pushed the documents across the table. "This is fifty thousand dollars. Consider it... severance. As long as you sign this NDA promising not to reveal any commercial secrets or private details of the Sterling family, the money is yours. You can use it to get an MBA, or go back to China, whatever you like."

Bella looked at the check. It was the price tag on five years of her youth. In Manhattan, this amount wouldn't even buy a decent studio apartment. She picked up the check, and Liam exhaled in relief.

*Riiiip—*

The crisp sound of tearing paper echoed through the room. Bella shredded the check into confetti, the snowy flakes falling onto the expensive Persian rug.

"Liam, you will regret this." Bella’s voice no longer trembled; it was replaced by a coldness he had never heard before. "You will regret that you didn't kill me today, and only fired me."

She turned and walked to the foyer, taking nothing but her rain-soaked trench coat.

"Bella! Don't be ungrateful! Without me, you can't even afford rent in New York! You'll be back in some basement in Queens!" Liam shouted after her, his voice cracking with exasperation.

Bella pushed open the door, stepping into the freezing Manhattan rain, and hailed a yellow cab with its light on.

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