My Broke Boyfriend Owned the Company

Only after I lost the promotion did I find out that my broke boyfriend secretly owned the company I worked for.

He'd voted against me.

One of his friends asked him, “Aren't you worried Nora Bennett will find out you've been lying to her and raise hell?”

Blake Whitmore gave a casual laugh.

“Why would I be? It doesn't take much to make her happy again.”

“Chloe's different. She's been a princess her whole life. When she wants something, she has to have it. I can't stand seeing her upset.”

“It's just a director's job. If she wants it, I'll let her have her fun.”

Chloe Sinclair.

The woman they'd brought in from outside to take the position I'd worked for.

Something I'd fought so hard to earn was just a toy she could have for the asking.

I blinked back the sting in my eyes, looked down at my phone, and answered the recruiter.

“Hi. I'd like to accept the offer in Pittsburgh.”

————————————

I hadn't expected to see Blake at that bar.

My best friend had brought me out for drinks because I was miserable about losing the promotion. On my way back from the restroom, I happened to spot him in a private lounge.

The arrogant, effortlessly entitled man inside barely resembled the boyfriend I knew.

His friend was still talking.

“If finding out who you are wouldn't make any difference to Nora, why don't you just tell her?”

Blake took an unhurried sip of his drink. He sounded amused.

“Having someone who doesn't care about your name or your money, someone who's happy to support you and do everything for you without expecting anything back—doesn't that sound good?”

His friend paused, then laughed.

“Man, you're terrible.”

“How long are you planning to keep playing broke?”

Blake considered that. “Until Chloe and I get married, I guess.”

“What happens to Nora?”

He was still smiling.

“What do you mean?”

“I'll get her a place. Keep seeing her on the side.”

“She loves me. She'll agree.”

Yes. I loved him.

Before we started dating, I'd saved money by renting a ground-floor apartment in an old, run-down building. The place got horribly damp whenever it rained.

Less than a week after Blake moved in, his skin broke out in eczema.

I couldn't bear seeing him uncomfortable. So I swallowed the expense and rented a two-bedroom in a better part of Boston. It cost $2,500 a month out of the $6,000 I brought home.

A lot of what was left went to him, too.

He wanted to take an accounting course to improve his job prospects. I paid the $800 tuition.

He said he'd broken a coworker's glasses and owed him $400. I sent him the money.

He complained about how cold his commute was in winter. I bought him an $1,100 down coat.

I wore a cheap jacket with synthetic filling.

I'd put everything I had into loving him.

And to Blake, all of it had been a game.