Ditch My Fake-Poor Boyfriend, Marry My CEO Childhood Sweetheart

Chapter 3

James didn't reply right away.

That alone sent alarm bells ringing in my head. He always answered immediately.

Each second dragged like an eternity, my chest tightening with every tick of the clock.

Buzz!

My fingers fumbled as I unlocked my phone, my vision blurred with tears.

"Baby, I have something to tell you. I lost the bank card."

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so useless. What should I do? Grandma will be okay, right?"

A cold wave of nausea washed over me.

Lost?

No. He didn't lose it.

He spent it.

The money I had worked years to save for my grandmother's life-saving surgery, eighty thousand dollars, was gone.

And he had used it… to buy Jessica Taylor a designer bag.

A choked sob ripped from my throat as I collapsed onto the floor, my hands clawing at the cold tile. My nails bent backward, splitting open. Blood smeared against my fingertips.

But I didn't feel it.

Pain was meaningless compared to the storm raging inside me.

"James, please. I need the money back. My grandma's life depends on it."

I sent the message. Again. Again.

No response.

I called.

The first ring went through. The second.

Hung up.

I called again.

Straight to voicemail.

He turned off his phone.

A violent tremor wracked through me as sobs racked my body.

But I didn't have time to break down.

I had to get to the hospital.

Meanwhile, in a private VIP lounge, James Anderson sighed as he shut off his phone.

So annoying.

Eighty grand wasn't even that much money. Was she really making this big of a deal over it?

Disappointment flickered in his chest.

He had actually grown attached to Sophia Carter over the past three years. Even after marrying Jessica, he had planned to keep Sophia around, support her, let her live comfortably.

But now?

With the way she was acting—so petty, so embarrassing—she was proving herself to be nothing but a liability.

Jessica Taylor, tipsy from champagne, leaned into him, her voice soft and lazy. "James, who keeps calling?"

James glanced at her—his ideal woman, his goddess—and his irritation melted away.

"Nobody important," he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

At the hospital, I was a mess—hair tangled, face streaked with dried tears—as I knelt before the doctor.

"Please… I'll find a way to pay. Just save my grandmother."

The doctor let out a tired sigh. "Stand up, Miss Carter. Your grandmother is too old for a heart transplant. The best option is a stent, but the materials are expensive. Hospital policy requires at least twenty percent of the surgery fee upfront before we proceed."

My stomach twisted into a tight knot.

I had seven hundred dollars to my name.

"How much?" I whispered.

"About eighty thousand."

Eighty thousand.

That cursed number again.

I pulled out my phone and called James.

No answer.

I called again.

Nothing.

My legs felt numb as I stumbled out of the hospital and into a cab. I had one option left.

I had to find him.

But just as I reached the entrance of the bar, my phone rang.

The hospital.

My hands shook as I answered.

"Doctor? Please tell me—"

"I'm sorry, Miss Carter," the doctor's voice was heavy. "Your grandmother passed away at 11:47 PM."

I stopped breathing.

"What...?"

The doctor sighed. "If we had been able to operate just three hours earlier, she could have lived at least another five years."

Three hours.

I had messaged James five hours ago.

Thunder cracked across the sky.

A torrential downpour swallowed the city, drenching me as I stood frozen outside the bar.

Grandma…

Her frail hands sewing my shoes late into the night.

Her wrinkled face lighting up whenever she found me a treat.

Her voice, warm and loving—

"Baby, you're the best girl in the world. You deserve all the good things."

Gone.

I dropped to my knees.

The pavement was cold. Hard. Unforgiving. But I felt nothing.

Nothing but the unbearable hollowness consuming me.

Then—

A voice.

"Sophia!"

James.

He came running toward me, his face twisted in panic.

He wasn't even pretending to be mute anymore.

"Sophia, what's wrong? What happened?"

I lifted my head, my vision swimming.

And then—

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest.

I coughed, and something warm and metallic filled my mouth.

Blood.

I spat it out—right onto James Anderson's stunned face.

Then, with every ounce of fury, grief, and hatred surging through me—

I slapped him. Hard.

His head snapped to the side.

He looked at me, stunned.

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh.

"James Anderson," I spat, my voice shaking with rage. "Is playing with poor people fun for a prince like you?"

His expression flickered. "Sophia, what are you—"

"Shut up."

I wiped the blood from my lips, my body swaying.

"You're disgusting. Every second I spent with you makes me want to vomit."

I sucked in a shaky breath, then said the words I should have said a long time ago.

"We're done."

The rain poured harder, drowning out his voice as I turned and walked away.