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Chapter 1
**Prelude**
My boyfriend seemed poor and mute, but our love felt real.
When the earthquake hit, he clawed through the rubble with his bare hands to get to me, his fingers torn and bleeding. To support him, I worked three jobs until I collapsed from exhaustion.
But I was the fool. He was never mute—he'd been lying to me all along. And poor? Far from it. He was the richest man in the capital.
He could drop a million dollars on a Ferrari for the woman he worshipped, yet he spent the $80,000 I bled for—not to build a future with me, not to help my dying grandmother, but to buy her a designer bag. And because of that, my grandmother never got the surgery she needed. She died.
**Prelude ends**
My boyfriend was poor and mute, but our love felt real.
Or so I thought.
Then my grandmother had a heart attack. I was working multiple jobs just to keep us afloat, so I handed James—my mute, jobless boyfriend—my bank card. Eighty thousand dollars. Everything I had.
It was for my grandmother's surgery.
That night, after my shift at the bar, I saw him.
Sitting in a VIP lounge. Dressed in an expensive suit, a Patek Philippe watch glinting on his wrist. His arm draped around another woman.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
This had to be a mistake.
James never went to bars. He was shy, introverted. Whenever I brought them up, he would shake his head and sign, Those places are for troublemakers.
That was why I never told him about my job here.
But the man sitting there, looking every bit like he belonged, was him.
It had to be.
And yet, it couldn't be.
James had no money. No job. We lived in a thirty-square-meter rental that could barely fit our bed.
Maybe I was just seeing things.
But as I turned to leave, laughter erupted from the room.
"I thought you weren't coming tonight, Master Anderson. Is your hardworking girlfriend still out making money for you?"
"That's why I say Master Anderson is a genius—got kicked out but still found himself a sucker."
"You're just jealous. If you had his looks, women would be throwing their money at you too."
My breath caught in my throat.
No.
No, no, no.
I stood frozen in the corner, my mask hiding my pale face, my fingers digging into my palms.
And then I heard him speak.
"Come on, guys. As long as dating costs less than keeping a woman, it's worth it."
My mind went blank.
James—my James—was talking.
The man who had been mute for three years.
He took a slow drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around his perfect face.
"Besides, pretending to be disabled gets me free food, free drinks, and a free place to stay. No expenses at all."
The room burst into laughter.
Someone whistled. "Damn. And you've got Sophia Carter, the angelic beauty. Can any of your girlfriends compare?"
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
Mute? He wasn't mute.
Poor? He wasn't poor.
And I—his girlfriend of three years—was nothing but a joke to him.
The world tilted. I had to press against the wall to keep myself upright, my entire body shaking.
But they didn't notice.
They were too busy admiring him.
"I heard Sophia Carter has an amazing body," someone laughed. "If Master Anderson ever gets bored, can I have a turn?"
James's expression turned cold. He kicked the guy's chair, his voice laced with disgust.
"Pathetic. I'm not done with her yet. I'll let you know when I am."
Laughter erupted again.
"Three years and you're still not tired of her? Damn, Master Anderson, don't tell me you actually like Sophia Carter."
James exhaled slowly, flicking ash from his cigarette, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Like her?" He scoffed. "I just don't marry women I don't love."
"Man, you should've just agreed to that engagement years ago."
"It's just an engagement, not marriage," another added. "Even if you were married, it wouldn't matter. My wife's eight months pregnant, and I'm still having fun."
James let out a low chuckle. "Most women are disgusting. Sophia Carter may not have the best background, but at least she was clean."
I let out a bitter laugh.
How shameless.
How disgusting.
I worked myself to the bone, starved, scraped by—just to support a disabled boyfriend.
But he wasn't disabled.
He was Master Anderson—heir to a wealthy family.
He never loved me. He looked down on me.
To him, I was nothing but a free meal ticket.
My stomach twisted in pain. My vision blurred. I coughed, tasting something metallic.
Blood.
Someone suddenly asked, "Master Anderson, you still hung up on your one true love, Jessica Taylor? The one who went abroad?"
Another guy laughed. "Now that you mention it, Sophia Carter does kinda look like Jessica."
"Holy shit. So it wasn't just the poor act—it was a stand-in act too?"
And then, the final blow—
"When the earthquake hit, Master Anderson thought Jessica was buried and went crazy digging through the rubble with his bare hands."
My heart stopped.
That day—the day he saved me—
He thought he was saving her.