When I had returned to our villa from my internship, Evelyn had pinned me down on the bed. She leaned in, kissing me breathlessly, her voice hoarse:
“Nick, don’t treat me like a person tonight.”
And then she devoured my whole, body and soul.
But when I woke up, she was gone.
Her phone number was disconnected. All her social media—Instagram, Facebook—were wiped clean, deleted.
It was as if she had vanished overnight, leaving me completely blindsided.
By noon, her attorney appeared at the door.
He explained that Evelyn had left strict instructions not to disturb me before noon. Then he handed me a thick envelope.
Inside was a signed deed of transfer: Evelyn Carter voluntarily giving me the villa, the Bentley, and $18 million in savings—as a thank-you for four years of love.
So this was it? She dumped me without explanation, treated me like a gigolo, and bought me off with property and cash?
But she was wrong. I didn’t need her money.
I had told her before that I wasn’t exactly poor. She had only laughed, answering, “No matter how rich you are, you’ll never be richer than me.”
I never cared about her family’s wealth. I loved her. That was all that mattered.
But why is the a sudden break?