At the class reunion, Ashley Adams, the prettiest girl from our year, got wasted. Someone asked her what the worst thing she’d ever done was. She pointed at me, tucked away in a corner, and laughed until tears streamed down her face: “It was back then, when Dempsey Thorne was showering. I used his phone to delete his broke girlfriend’s desperate plea for help. And I texted back: ‘Get lost!’ You wouldn’t believe it, that poor girl waited out in the torrential rain all night. It was absolutely hilarious…” The club erupted in laughter. Dempsey’s wine glass shattered in his hand with a sharp *crack*. Blood mixed with red wine streamed down his fingers. He stared at me, his eyes burning. I calmly offered him a tissue. “Mr. Thorne, long time no see.” The city’s most exclusive private club was booked solid tonight. Word was, a new magnate in the venture capital scene, worth hundreds of millions, was back in town and wanted to flaunt his wealth in front of his old classmates. When Mr. Dawson, the manager, handed me the gilded wine list, his eyes held an unreadable hint of pity: “Chloe, that private room tonight… if you don’t want to go, I can arrange someone else.” I glanced down, adjusting my ill-fitting waitress uniform, and smiled faintly. “It’s fine, Mr. Dawson. That’s our highest-spending room. The corkage fee alone means decent tips. I need the money, you know that.” Mr. Dawson sighed, said nothing more, just patted my shoulder. As I pushed open the heavy door, a wave of heat, expensive perfume, and cigar smoke assaulted me. That scent… it was the smell of burning money. On the leather sofa in the center of the private room sat the man I hadn’t seen in seven years. He’d changed so much. The memory of the clear-eyed, stubborn boy in his faded school uniform was gone. In his place was a business elite who exuded an air of absolute power. He was listening to someone beside him, his head tilted slightly, a cold smirk playing on his lips. And nestled beside him was Ashley Adams, the campus beauty who had snatched him away from me all those years ago. Ashley wore a white Chanel haute couture dress tonight, her diamond necklace flashing blindingly under the lights. She swirled her wine glass, looking like a proud swan. “Oh, Dempsey’s main reason for coming back is for me, really. He’s moving his company’s focus back here because, well, we’re getting engaged, you know.” Immediately, a chorus of compliments broke out. “The campus queen and the CEO, what a match made in heaven!” “Mr. Thorne is a finance magazine cover star now, Ashley, you’re so lucky!” “*This* is what you call happiness. Unlike some people who were gold diggers back then. I bet they’re kicking themselves now, huh?” Someone dropped a pointed comment, and the air in the room froze for a second. Everyone’s gaze, as if on cue, shifted to me, standing in the corner, opening a bottle of wine. I moved like a senseless puppet, expertly uncorking the bottle. “Bordeaux Left Bank. Optimal taste after twenty minutes of decanting.” I poured the perfectly decanted wine into the crystal glass in front of Dempsey, my movements flawless. Dempsey finally looked up. What kind of look was it? Disdain, disgust, hatred, and a sliver of deep-seated contempt. He didn’t take the glass, letting me hold it. My wrist, sore from holding the tray for so long, trembled slightly. “Chloe?” He finally spoke, his voice deep and hoarse. “I heard you dropped out of college? What, that rich guy got tired of you and dumped you? Now you’re reduced to serving people in a place like this?” The room fell silent instantly. Everyone was waiting for the show. Ashley covered her mouth dramatically, feigning surprise as she looked at me: “Oh my goodness, it really is Chloe! How could you… how could you be dressed like this?” “If you’re short on cash, you should tell me. Even though you dumped Dempsey for money back then, we’re still old classmates. I’m sure I could arrange a cleaning job for you, no problem.” She deliberately emphasized the words “dumped Dempsey for money.” A ripple of mocking laughter spread through the room. “Serves her right. Dempsey was so good to her back then.” “That’s karma for you. Look at Mr. Thorne now, worth billions. And her? Waiting tables.” “Tsk, tsk, how the tables have turned.” I listened to their harsh words expressionlessly, as if they were talking about someone else’s story. Seven years. I had long since built an impenetrable shield around myself. Living in the darkest corners of this city. Washing dishes in restaurant kitchens, hauling boxes in cold storage, getting drinks splashed on me by drunk customers, being yelled at by landlords for being a pauper. Dignity, that thing, had shattered into a million pieces on that torrential rainy night, leaving nothing but dust. “Mr. Thorne, your wine.” I repeated myself, my voice calm. Dempsey stared into my eyes, as if searching for a trace of regret, shame, or tears on my face. But he was disappointed. There was nothing in my eyes. Only endless numbness and exhaustion. This disregard seemed to infuriate him. He suddenly raised his hand and violently knocked the wine glass from my grasp. “This wine is too cheap. I’m not used to it.” Dempsey pulled out a tissue, wiped his hands, his eyes icy. “Get another bottle. Something with age. Like the one from seven years ago.” He was humiliating me. Seven years ago, he was a broke kid. To celebrate my birthday, he’d scrimped and saved for three months to buy a cheap bottle of red wine. We sat on the campus lawn, sharing sips, our faces flushed, promising to be together forever. Now, he was using this to remind me of the price of betraying him. Ashley giggled beside him, chiming in: “Oh, don’t make it hard on her. This bottle costs tens of thousands. She couldn’t afford to pay for it even if she sold herself. Hurry up and apologize to Mr. Thorne, and clean up the wine on the floor. Then we’ll let it go.” I knelt, took out a cloth, and meticulously wiped the wine stains from the carpet. Glass shards pricked my fingertips, a piercing pain. But I didn’t even flinch. I was just calculating in my head: the commission for this bottle was gone, plus I’d have to pay for the broken glass. Tonight’s shift? All for nothing. Maybe even half a month’s salary gone. This was my life now. No emotions, just endless calculations of prices and debts that could never be repaid. As for love? That was a luxury only the rich could afford. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne.” I finished wiping the last bit of wine, stood up, and maintained my humble posture. “I’ll ask the manager to bring the finest wine we have.” Dempsey looked at the beads of blood welling from my fingertips, his pupils constricted slightly, then immediately returned to their cold state. “Get out.”
I didn’t get out. Because Mr. Dawson said the guest tonight specifically requested my service. If I left, the twenty thousand dollar tip would be gone, and even my base salary would be docked. I really needed the money. Mom’s dialysis fees for next month weren’t settled yet, and the landlord had messaged again,催促asking for next quarter’s rent. So I went to the restroom, quickly dealt with my injury, and returned to that suffocating private room. When I pushed the door open again, the atmosphere had changed. After several rounds of drinks, the elites began to shed their pretenses, revealing the rawest human depravity. They were playing Truth or Dare. It was a cliché but eternally effective game, especially when fueled by alcohol; it was the best tool to tear away humanity’s fig leaf. The table was covered with empty bottles—Louis XIII, Hennessy Richard, Ace of Spades… The combined price of those bottles was enough for me to buy a small bathroom in this city. Ashley was clearly drunk. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was practically draped over Dempsey, her eyes hazy and fervent. She was the star of the night, and the biggest winner. About to marry Dempsey and become the envied Mrs. Thorne—this made her smug, even a little bit floating. “Come on, come on! Next round!” Mike, the class rep, slurred, egging them on. “Who does it land on this time?” The empty wine bottle spun rapidly on the polished marble table, making a teeth-grinding sound. Everyone held their breath, staring at the bottle’s neck. Slowly, the bottle stopped. Its mouth pointed directly at Ashley. “Whoa—! The campus queen’s a winner!” “Truth or Dare?” Ashley giggled, waving her hand with drunken eyes: “This lady chooses Truth! There’s nothing I’m afraid to say!” Mike rubbed his hands with a sly grin, his gaze darting between me and Ashley, clearly wanting to stir up some trouble. “Alright then, let’s ask something juicy. Ashley, what’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever done in your life?” At that question, the private room instantly quieted down a notch. Everyone was an adult; who didn’t have a secret they wanted to keep hidden? But since it was a game, the thrill was the point. Dempsey, who had been resting with his eyes closed, merely lifted an eyelid nonchalantly when he heard the question, making no move to stop it. In his opinion, Ashley was a pure and kind rich girl. Though a bit spoiled, she would never do anything truly awful. Ashley hiccuped, her gaze suddenly cutting through the crowd and landing on me, pouring water for guests in the corner. A malicious smile curled on her lips. Alcohol numbed her brain, but also amplified the jealousy and malice deep within her. “The most disgusting thing, huh…” Ashley swayed as she stood up, her finger pointing straight at me. “It was seven years ago, on that stormy day, I went to Dempsey’s rental apartment to find him…” At the words “seven years ago,” my hand suddenly shook, and the hot water in the kettle almost spilled. Dempsey’s body stiffened slightly too. Ashley laughed, her whole body shaking, as if telling an incredibly funny joke: “Dempsey was in the shower that day, his phone on the table. And wouldn’t you know it, this broke girl, Chloe, texted him.” “Guess what she sent? Hahahaha… She said: ‘Dempsey, please save my dad, I beg you, just fifty thousand dollars… I’ll definitely repay you later.’ ” “Tsk, tsk, tsk, so pathetic, so pitiful.” “At the time, I thought, Dempsey is so exceptional, how can he be entangled with someone so poor? He belongs to me, to a broader future, not to be dragged into the mud by someone from the bottom!” “So…” She paused, a crazy glint in her eyes. “I replied to a text for Dempsey.” “I deleted that plea for help, then, pretending to be Dempsey, I texted back two words: ‘Get lost, leave me alone’!” “Hahahahaha! You wouldn’t believe it, that poor girl actually waited out in the pouring rain all night! I watched her from behind the window, soaked to the bone like a stray dog, watched her fall to her knees crying in despair. It was absolutely hilarious!” “Oh, don’t you think I did a great thing? If it wasn’t for my move, how could Dempsey have gotten rid of that burden? How could he have achieved what he has today? Dempsey, you should thank me…” Ashley’s words were cut short by a sharp, shattering sound. The stemmed glass in Dempsey’s hand had been crushed by his own grip. Glass shards pierced deep into his palm; blood mixed with red wine dripped through his fingers onto the pristine tablecloth, a shocking sight. But he seemed to feel no pain. He just stared at Ashley, his normally cold eyes now bloodshot. “What did you say?” Ashley hadn’t realized anything was wrong. She was still basking in her self-congratulation: “I said I helped you get rid of that broke…” “Shut up!” Dempsey slammed his hand on the coffee table in front of him, overturning it. The loud crash made Ashley shriek, half-sobering her up. She looked in horror at the man before her, like a raging lion, stammering: “What’s wrong with you? I was just joking…” “Joking?” Dempsey swayed as he stood up, advancing on Ashley step by step. “Are you saying, that night seven years ago, she didn’t run off with that rich guy, Jason? She didn’t text to say she hated my poverty and wanted to break up?” “Are you saying, she was at the hospital? She was begging me for help?” His voice grew louder and louder, until he was practically shouting. Ashley, terrified by his intensity, collapsed onto the sofa. Dempsey ignored her. He spun around abruptly, looking at me in the corner. “Chloe…” He called my name, his voice trembling, almost a sob. “Is what she said true?” “That night… were you waiting for me?” The entire room fell silent. No one dared to breathe. I put down the kettle, calmly looking at the truth that had arrived seven years too late. My heart felt surprisingly unmoved. Too late. It was really too late. I took a tissue from my pocket, walked over, and offered it to him. “Mr. Thorne, wipe your hands. They’re covered in blood. It’s messy.” Dempsey didn’t take the tissue. He grabbed my wrist. “Answer me! Chloe! Tell me it’s not true!” I looked into his bloodshot eyes and smiled faintly. “What if it is true, Dempsey?”
Dempsey’s hand trembled. He stared fixedly at my face, searching for any hint of “you’re lying.” Even if it was hatred, even if it was revenge, even if I was deliberately fabricating lies to make him suffer, he could accept it. But he couldn’t accept *this* truth. Because if it was true. Then all his hatred of the past seven years, all his struggle, all the motivation that had pulled him out of the mud, would become a joke. A complete and utter joke. “If you were truly in trouble, why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you come find me? Why did you send that text saying you’d fallen in love with someone else?” I looked at his broken expression, finding it utterly absurd. “Call you?” I gave a light laugh, but no mirth reached my eyes. “Dempsey, that night, I called you thirty-seven times.” “Thirty-seven times.” “The first call was when the doctor gave the critical condition notice. You didn’t pick up.” “The tenth call was when I was kneeling at a relative’s door begging for money and got kicked out. It was hung up.” “The twentieth call was in the pouring rain, I was soaked to the bone, with nowhere to turn. Your phone was off.” “The last time, after I desperately sent that plea for help, I received those two words: ‘Get lost, leave me alone’.” I took a deep breath, those long-buried memories resurfacing. “You ask why I didn’t come find you? I did.” “I stood downstairs from your rental apartment all night. I knew you were home because the lights were on. I watched Ashley’s shadow on the curtains, watched you two laughing and talking.” “I thought then, if only you’d come down to see me, even if you said you had no money, even if you just hugged me and told me not to be scared, I could have grit my teeth and held on.” “But you didn’t.” “You told me to get lost.” Dempsey’s face was ashen. He let go of my hand, staggering back two steps. “It wasn’t me… I didn’t…” He clutched his head, groaning in agony. “My phone was missing that day, I thought I lost it. Later, Ashley said you ran off with Jason, the rich kid. She said you texted that you didn’t want to live a hard life anymore.” He suddenly turned to Ashley, his eyes fierce enough to devour her. “My phone! You took my phone?!” Ashley was terrified now. She had never seen Dempsey so out of control. In her memory, Dempsey was always composed. “Dempsey, please let me explain…” Ashley cried, tears streaming down her face, trying to grab Dempsey’s sleeve. “I loved you so much then, I didn’t want to see you dragged down by her. Her dad was a bottomless pit! I did it for your future!” “For my good?!” Dempsey backhanded her, a brutal slap across Ashley’s face. *“CRACK!”* The blow was heavy; Ashley fell directly to the floor, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. A gasp went through the room, but no one dared to intervene. “You did it for yourself!” Dempsey’s eyes were bloodshot, his finger trembling as he pointed at Ashley. “How dare you make decisions for me! How dare you delete that text message!” “Do you know that was money to save a life?! Do you know what that meant to her?!” Dempsey seemed to go mad, sweeping all the remaining wine bottles off the table. He remembered that night, seven years ago. He came out of the shower, found his phone missing, and Ashley was sitting on the sofa, looking a little flustered, saying she didn’t know where it was. Later, he didn’t think much of it, assuming it was lost. The next day, the whole campus was spreading rumors that Chloe had run off with Jason, the rich kid. He went to confront Chloe, but only saw her back as she withdrew from school. He thought she was guilty, ashamed. “Chloe…” Dempsey turned around and dropped to his knees with a thud onto the shattered glass. His knees instantly pierced, blood soaking his expensive trousers. But he seemed to feel nothing, only crawling towards me, reaching out to grab the hem of my skirt. “I’m so sorry, I truly didn’t know…” “If I had known, even if I had to sell a kidney, sell my blood, I would have saved your dad! How could I have let you face all that alone?” “Your dad? How is your dad now? I’ll get him into the best hospital, bring in the best specialists, I’ll pay any amount!” He spoke incoherently, his eyes gleaming with a hopeful light, as if with money, everything could be undone. I looked at the man sobbing on his knees before me, my eyes still calm. Some mistakes can be remedied. But some mistakes cost a life. “Dempsey, save it.” I coldly interrupted his fantasy. “My dad died.” Dempsey’s body stiffened abruptly. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “It was just a week after that rainy night.” My voice was flat, as if telling someone else’s story. “Because we couldn’t gather enough for the surgery, we missed the optimal window for rescue. He lingered in the ICU for seven days, and then he died in pain.” “Before he died, he held my hand and told me not to blame you. He said you had it hard, and not to make things difficult for you over money.” “Dempsey, you say you want to save him?” “Are you going to save him in heaven?”
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