He Broke Me For The Girl Who Bullied Me Chapter 01
I scratched off a lottery ticket my boyfriend bought me and won a million dollars.
The moment I saw the number, I screamed and jumped for joy.
“Ethan! We have enough to get married!”
After five years together,we could finally afford the ring, the house, the car—and get married.
But instead of smiling, he just clicked his tongue.
“Are you that desperate to lock me down?”
I froze.
Then his phone erupted with laughter, a whole group of guys howling.
“Lockwood, a bet’s a bet! She wants to marry you with that money. Say yes, man!”
“An eight-thousand-dollar ring? That wouldn’t even buy Celeste a purse.”
Celeste Montfort. The trust-fund heiress who bullied me all through high school.
I looked down at the scratch-off ticket I’d nearly crushed in my fist.
Then I dropped it in the trash.
…
“All right, cut it out.”
“You think I’m the kind of guy who backs out of a bet? Y’all better start putting together that wedding registry.”
More laughter. Then a voice cut through it, one I’d heard in my nightmares for years.
“Ethan, are you insane?!”
“The deal was you’d mess with her a little. Get her back for me. You’re actually going to marry her now?”
Ethan wiped a tear from my cheek, casual as anything, and answered.
“What, you want me to marry you instead?”
“Princess Montfort, did you really think I was some dog you could order around? Sit when you say sit, bark when you say bark?”
The call cut off on her end. Just dial tone.
He stared at his phone for a long moment. Then looked up, smiling at me.
“Why were you crying? Happy your boyfriend’s secretly loaded?”
Before I could answer, he was already moving.
“You want pasta? I’ll make you some.”
He tied on the apron, cracked eggs into a bowl, started chopping garlic. Practiced. Easy. As if the whole cruel joke had never happened.
I took a slow breath. My chest tightened again and again.
“Are you tired?”
“What?”
“These five years. Are you tired of playing the part?”
Ethan didn’t answer. The only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the range hood.
It was making me sick. I stepped over and clicked it off, then grabbed his sleeve and forced him to look at me.
“Don’t I get an explanation?”
“I already came clean, didn’t I? What else do you want?”
He paused.
“Celeste’s a family friend. That’s all. Don’t read into it.”
Sliding right past the bet they’d made. Deliberately skipping over Celeste’s line — get her back for me.
I tilted my head back and blinked hard against the burn in my eyes.
Five years. Thousands of nights.
I had opened my whole heart to Ethan. I thought he was the man I’d spend the rest of my life with.
No money? Fine. We’d earn it.
No apartment, no car? Fine. We’d rent, we’d save.
And now I was being told the whole thing was a setup? A five-year performance, custom-built to punish me, all so Celeste could get her revenge?
I really didn’t understand. I was nobody special. Just a girl with a nine-to-five.
What did I ever do to deserve five years of an elaborate lie — five years of Ethan playing the perfect boyfriend right beside me?
When he used to apologize for not being able to give me a nicer life — did he not want to laugh in my face?
When he warmed my cold feet in bed, when he hand-washed my underwear in the sink — was he swallowing down his disgust the whole time?
What a performance. He’d really committed to the role.
“What day do you want the wedding?”
He said it as if it were nothing.
I bit the words out.
“There isn’t going to be one.”
He scoffed.
“Seriously? Over one little joke? You’ve been begging to marry me for years.”
“Yeah, I lied. But the ending’s a good one, isn’t it?”
“Fine — a hundred-grand ring. Any house you want. Any car you want. What is your problem?”
“It isn’t about the money…”
His hand stopped mid-motion.
Then he hurled the mixing bowl against the wall.
Ceramic shards sprayed everywhere. One caught my forearm and opened a thin red line. Raw egg dripped down the paint.
“When we had no money, you kept nagging me about money. Now we’ve got money and suddenly it’s about something else.”
“Audrey. What is wrong with you?”
Blood trickled down my arm. My fingers were going numb.
He reached for me on reflex. I shoved him away.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Something’s wrong with me.”
I rolled up my sleeve. Showed him the layers of scars, old and new, running up the inside of my arm.
“I’m crazy. Are you happy now?”
The tears came before I could stop them. I bit down hard on my lip and stared straight at him.
“Ethan. I asked you a question. Are you happy?”
“So tell me — why the hell would I marry you?”
“Why would I marry the guy who spent five years playing me as part of some revenge scheme for the girl who bullied me?”
His lips trembled. Something flickered behind his eyes.
And for one stupid second, I thought it was pain.
His phone rang. He answered.
“Lockwood! Celeste’s wasted, she keeps screaming she wants to see you!”
“So? Not my problem.”
He was digging through the medicine cabinet, pulling out antiseptic to clean my arm.
“She said… if you don’t come tonight, she’s going home with the first guy she sees…”
The antiseptic bottle tipped over. Brown liquid pooled across the tile.
He clenched his fist. Shot me a look — pained, torn — then made up his mind.
“Just — clean that yourself. I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t say anything. I stood at the window and watched him run.
Watched him kick over my scooter where it was parked at the curb, because it was in his way.
He’d bought me that scooter our second year together.
It couldn’t shield me from rain or wind. But it meant I didn’t have to squeeze onto the L every morning.
The day I got it, I was so happy I made him climb on the back and rode him up and down our block, laughing.
That was the love I thought I had. That was the happiness I thought was mine.
And now — just like the scooter — it lay on its side on the pavement. Side mirror smashed to pieces.