Wait…Why Did Everyone I Love Suddenly Call Me a Bitch?! novel Chapter 50

Chapter 3

I dragged myself home, every step agony.

Home. What a joke.

It was a tin shack on the top floor of the projects-one of those places that rattled like a goddamn jail cell every time the wind picked up.

Rain? Forget about sleep. The metal sheets banged against each other all night long.

Summer turned it into an oven. No AC. And I couldn’t afford to run a fan, so I’d just… pass out from heatstroke. Multiple times.

I used to think Jackson would never find me here.

Guess I was wrong about that too.

I stood in the middle of my cramped room, staring at the walls.

They were covered in clippings-magazine articles, newspaper photos, all of him.

Jackson’s first interview as a rising star in clean energy. Jackson accepting his award as one of New York’s Top Ten Young Entrepreneurs.

And…Him down on one knee, proposing to Isabella. Their wedding-the kind that shut down half the city.

I took a shaky breath and started ripping them down, one by one.

Every photo. Every headline. Every reminder that he’d moved on.

I shoved them into a cardboard box under my bed, but my hand froze when I saw the picture at the bottom.

Jackson’s arm around me, that shy, boyish grin on his face-the kind he used to save just for me.

Now? The man I’d seen in that courthouse hallway was a stranger. Cold. Distant. Like I’d never mattered at all.

He was a CEO now. A philanthropist. A media darling. The perfect husband who worshipped his wife.

Just now my boyfriend anymore.

I let out a bitter laugh, sealed the box, and shoved it back under the bed.

Then I turned to the mirror and started putting on makeup. Tight clothes. The kind that got tips.

I texted my manager:

“I wanna work the night shift.”

Night shifts at the bar meant dealing with creeps-guys who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves,

But it also meant better money.

And I needed money.

I just didn’t expect to run into him there.

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The moment I saw Jackson, my whole boily went rigid.

My skin burned where it was exposed.

He saw me, and for a split second, his face betrayed shock and disbelief-before curling into a sneer of disgust.

“So. This is where you work now.”

My palms were sweating, but I kept my voice steady.

“Your drink, sir.”

Jackson looked at me like I was a rat crawling out of a sewer.

“Makes sense, I guess. Any guy in here could probably keep you comfortable for the rest of your pathetic life. Very on-brand for you,”

I swallowed hard.

“Your drink, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat.

“How long you been working here? You don’t even know how to serve properly?”

He pulled out a checkbook, scribbled something, and tossed it at my feet.

“Take care of my boys tonight. Do a good job, and that’s yours.”

The check fluttered to the floor.

I bent down slowly to pick it up, my injured knee screaming in protest.

When I saw the number, my breath caught.

$107,023.

The exact amount I’d paid him back in court.

He’s using that number to insult me.

I stood there, staring at him, the check trembling in my hand.

Finally, I forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper.

“This is… payment for services, right? So I don’t have to give it back this time?”

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