Love’s Execution Chapter 1

Three years after we broke up, Roger sued me.

He wanted every dollar he’d ever spent on me during our relationship returned. He wasn't broke; his new wife was just bored, and I was her new plaything.

He knew my body was failing me.

He knew I hadn’t slept without medication since my parents died in a car crash, that a thick fog of depression had settled over my life.

He knew I’d tried to end it all once, waking up in a hospital bed with doctors whispering that I might not make it.

And he did it anyway.

In the courtroom, I looked at his face, so familiar yet so alien. I had known him for seven years, loved him for five. When he left to study abroad in America, I never once thought of giving up, even when things were at their worst. L.A. was a world away, but I flew back and forth a dozen times to be with him.

The court ordered me to pay him back $10,723.

That last three dollars was from a day on the streets of L.A. I’d seen a stall selling candied apples, but at three dollars a piece, I couldn't bring myself to buy one. He had just laughed and bought it for me anyway.

Now, even that sweet memory had been sharpened into a blade pointed at my heart.

He didn't know.

That ten thousand dollars was every cent I had to my name. It was also the money I’d set aside for my next round of chemotherapy.

* * *

After the verdict was read, I ran right into Roger in the hallway.

I hadn’t seen him in years, and he’d changed. The struggling student who used to hustle between part-time jobs and a cramped, cheap apartment was now a titan in the green tech industry. He stood there in a perfectly tailored suit, his gaze landing on me with a cool, detached frostiness.

I froze, my first instinct to pretend I hadn’t seen him and walk away.

But then he spoke, his voice slow and deliberate. “Are you regretting it… now?”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

A bitter, mocking smile twisted his lips. “Dumping me for money back then. You must be kicking yourself, right?”

The late autumn wind was sharp, cutting through my thin clothes. I clenched my fists, but a deep, unshakable chill had already taken root in my bones. I took a deep breath and forced a flawless smile. “Mr. Vance, the money has been repaid. We’re broken up. Aren't you worried your wife might get the wrong idea if she heard you talking like this?”

As if on cue, I turned and saw Felicity standing there, her face a mask of fury. The anger vanished in an instant, replaced by a radiant smile that didn’t quite reach the venom in her eyes.

She clicked across the floor in her stilettos and wrapped her arm possessively around Roger’s. “Honey, what should I even do with this ten thousand dollars? A new dress? Shoes? Or that designer bag I saw last week?”

She shot a pointed look at me, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “It doesn't seem to be enough for any of those, does it? You really should have been more generous with your ex-girlfriend. This little bit of cash wouldn't even cover a new hairpin for me.”

I had loved Roger for five years. During that time, while he was studying in L.A., I flew across the country every month to see him. The ten thousand dollars he sued me for was mostly the money he had earned working grueling side jobs to help pay for my plane tickets.

But now, he and Felicity had presented the bank transfers to their lawyer, who had torn my life apart in court, demanding repayment as if it were their birthright.

The hairpin on Felicity’s head was the latest release from Chanel, costing fifteen thousand dollars. The money she’d just squeezed from me truly wasn’t enough.

Roger brushed a stray hair from her face with a tender, doting gesture. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Think of it as pocket money. If it’s not enough, I’ll add to it.”

Felicity’s face lit up, and she planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best, honey!”

Then, she turned to me, her smile a weapon. “Eve, I am so sorry. We obviously don’t need the money, but Roger and I made a little bet. He did this just to make me happy, you know?”

She leaned in conspiratorially. “Ever since we got married, Roger worries about me working too hard, so he won’t let me get a job. All I do all day is skincare, beauty treatments, and travel. A girl has to find some way to amuse herself, right?”

She reached out and took my hand, her eyes glittering with triumph. “Thank you for making my day. And for proving just how much my husband adores me.”

A sharp pain shot through my chest, like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. For the rich, this was just a game. I was nothing more than a pawn, a tool used to demonstrate the depths of Roger’s devotion to his wife.