My boyfriend called me ugly in front of his friends and dumped me at a restaurant, leaving me to pay for the dinner. As he walked away, he said—loudly—“A girl like you should be grateful I even dated you.” I smiled and calmly waited. This morning, my phone blew up with 20 missed calls.
It wouldn’t stop ringing—20 missed calls, all from the same number. The same number that had blocked me just three days ago after calling me ugly in front of his friends and walking away, leaving me with a $200 dinner bill and a shattered heart. I stared at Mason Taylor’s name flashing across my screen, my coffee growing cold in my trembling hands.
The morning sun streamed through my apartment window, but all I could see was the terror in his voice from the last voicemail he’d left at 3:00 a.m. “Hazel, please… you have to call me back. Something’s happening.
Something’s very wrong. The photos… how did you—please… I’m begging you.”
I smiled and let it go to voicemail again. After all, a girl like me should be grateful for the entertainment.
But how did I go from being the brokenhearted victim to the one holding all the cards? How did three days transform me from a woman crying over a cruel breakup into someone who could make Mason Taylor—the man who thought he was untouchable—beg for mercy? The answer lies in what happened that night at Romano’s restaurant.
And more importantly, what I discovered about the man I thought I loved. Some secrets are buried so deep that when they finally surface, they don’t just hurt. They destroy everything in their path.
And Mason Taylor was about to learn that the quiet “ugly girl” he discarded so carelessly had been hiding secrets of her own. Three days earlier, I sat across from Mason at Romano’s—the upscale Italian restaurant where we’d had our first date two years ago. The irony wasn’t lost on me that he’d chosen the same place to end things, though I didn’t know it yet.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, but his eyes were already scanning the room—looking for someone more interesting than his girlfriend of twenty-four months. I wore the emerald green dress he’d bought me for Christmas. My auburn hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders, and I’d spent an hour perfecting my makeup.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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