Part 2Cinderella Is A Shark Now

The next day, I called out of work for three days.

By the second day of my self-imposed mourning, Belen was pounding on my front door. When I finally let her in, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. She took one look at the empty beer cans littering my small apartment and gasped.

"Oh my god, Noelle. What is this? You’re the one who dumped him, and now you’re acting like the victim? Get it together."

I shrugged, unable to find the energy to argue.

She started cleaning my living room, muttering under her breath. I retreated to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I couldn't stay like this forever.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours," Belen called out. "Giving up a guy like Benson? He was the gold standard. Good luck finding another one like that in this city."

I let her nag. She didn't get it.

Being with Benson was like living in a dream. I never had to plan anything; he curated my life. Switzerland, Norway, the Maldives... I sat through auctions watching him spend a quarter-million on art pieces that didn't even resonate with him. He’d even bought a luxury penthouse near my office just to make my commute easier. The night we moved in, I felt like Cinderella. I thought I’d finally found my prince.

The night we broke up, he’d tried to give me the penthouse.

I refused.

He’d given me so much, though to him, it was probably pocket change. Thanks to Benson, I’d touched a world I didn't belong to. But that world had made me lose my footing.

I opened my closet to find something to wear, and my eyes landed on that thirty-thousand-dollar bag hanging on the door. Belen thought I was crazy for letting go of a man who could give me security, especially since I was an orphan with no family to fall back on.

But what Belen didn't know was that Benson was just like that bag. I could carry it, I could look glamorous with it on my arm, but I knew—deep in my bones—that I never truly owned it. For a year, that feeling of unworthiness had been a slow-acting poison.

After we cleaned the place, Belen took me out for a cheap burger.

"You know everyone says he’s the one who dumped you, right?" she said, mid-fry.

I kept my head down. "That was fast. I thought it would take at least a week for the rumor mill to start."

"Did you hear about Hudson’s party last night at the Heights?"

I shook my head. Hudson was the heir to a massive tech fortune, Benson’s best friend since prep school.

Belen gave me a look of pure pity. "It was all over Instagram. Hudson threw a 'Back on the Market' party for Benson. It was basically a gala of every eligible socialite in the state."

The burger felt like lead in my stomach, but I kept my face neutral. "Makes sense. They have the money; they can celebrate whatever they want."

Belen tapped her chopsticks against my hand. "Noelle, doesn't it kill you? That’s Benson Montgomery. Every woman in this city would kill to be in your shoes."

I looked at her. "Do you honestly think I had the 'luck' to actually become a Montgomery? Do you think his family would ever let me be the one?"

Belen’s eyes dimmed. She knew. She was just like everyone else—she wanted to see the fairytale work so she could believe in it too. She wanted me to claw and climb and get my piece of the pie.

But she didn't understand that when the class divide is that steep, it’s not a relationship. It’s a residency.

I never called him first. I knew he was busy, that his time was worth thousands of dollars an hour. When I was with his friends, their eyes slid over me like I was a piece of furniture—pretty, well-placed, but ultimately replaceable. They never asked what I did for a living. I was just 'The Girlfriend.'

Benson was perfect, in his way. He never insulted me. But even when he made a suggestion, I found myself obeying. I was so afraid of losing the control he held over the relationship that I became a shadow.

As we left the diner, Belen squeezed my shoulder. "Honestly? I admire you. You’re so clear-headed it’s almost scary."

"Thanks," I said softly.