laughed.
“Please. I don’t love Adrian.”
Another woman asked, “Then why marry him?”
Vanessa answered immediately.
“Because he’s worth three hundred million dollars.”
Silence.
Then she added:
“Once we’re married, I’ll never have to work again.”
I leaned back in my chair.
Oddly enough, I felt calm.
Not angry.
Not heartbroken.
Just finished.
For years people assumed I was born rich.
They saw the tailored suits and private jets.
They never saw the seventeen-year-old kid getting punched unconscious in underground fights for five hundred dollars a night.
They never saw
