Chapter 3
I pulled myself from the memory, my expression smoothing back to calm indifference.
Mia turned around excitedly, grabbed her bag, and hurried toward the voice-then paused and glanced back at me.
“Chloe, don’t you need to pick up your daughter? We can give you a lift.”
I opened my mouth to decline, but Jasper walked straight over, picked up my bag from the desk, and headed toward the parking lot without giving me a chance to refuse.
The car was filled with an awkward silence, broken only by Mia’s occasional attempts at
conversation.
Jasper tapped the steering wheel idly, answering her in a casual tone, though his gaze kept drifting toward me.
Mia, perhaps sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood by chatting with me.
“Chloe, since you work late so often, does your husband usually pick up Lily?”
It took me a second to register the word husband. I shook my head and made up an
excuse.
“He works out of town. He’s not around much.
She nodded, her eyes dropping to the cheap ring on my finger-the one I’d bought from a dollar store days before.
“Is that your wedding ring? It looks a bit faded.
Kinda like one of those bargain finds online, maybe ten bucks with free shipping.
Oh-sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! Please don’t take it the wrong way.”
Mia quickly turned to apologize, but I didn’t miss the flicker of disdain and faint superiority in her eyes.
In a way, it made sense. Next to my worn diaper bag, her Hermès purse might as well have been from another world.
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I was about to respond when a low chuckle cut through the air.
Jasper reached over and ruffled Mia’s hair, his smile fond.
“It’s fine, you didn’t say anything wrong. No need to apologize.”
Then his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, his tone light but pointed.
“Poor people are all about their pride. If you’re that direct, someone might give you a hard time at work tomorrow.”
The words were aimed at Mia, but the message was clearly meant for me.
A seemingly offhand remark-protective of her, quietly warning me.
I pretended not to hear and looked out the window.
I’d heard variations of this countless times during the three years I was with Jasper.
That I wasn’t good enough for him-and I knew it was true. We came from completely
different worlds.
My family was comfortable, but firmly middle-class.
The Vanderbilts, though, weren’t just wealthy-they were old money, positioned at the very center of influence.
Jasper had made it clear from the start:
“Chloe, you can be my girlfriend. But you’ll never be my wife.”
I knew. I’d always known.
I guarded my heart carefully, never letting myself hope for more.
But in moments of weakness, I’d wavered. I’d wondered if I should try-fight for a
chance, just once.
What if it worked?
So, as graduation approached, I asked Jasper to meet me.
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He picked me up early that day.
His driver pulled into a secluded spot on campus, then stepped out to give us privacy.
I was turned gently toward the window, the dappled sycamore tree light filtering through the sun and stinging my eyes, leaving me barely able to open them.
An hour later, Jasper leaned back against the seat, his white dress shirt slightly damp, a fine layer of sweat glistening on his forehead.
The car window was partly open, a cool breeze scattering the faint smoke from his lips.
I looked at him and asked the question that had been haunting me.
“Jasper… do you love me?”
I realized then-more than whether he’d marry me, I needed to know if he’d ever loved
me at all.
He met my gaze, the usual playfulness gone, replaced by a rare seriousness.
“Graduation’s almost here.’
In that moment, I understood.
Graduation was right around the corner-and so was our end..
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