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I never told my boyfriend’s arrogant parents that I was the one who owned the bank holding all their debt. To them, I was just “some barista with no future.” At their luxury yacht party, his mother sneered and shoved a drink into my hands, spilling it down my dress. “Staff should stay below deck,” she said coldly. His father laughed. “Careful—don’t ruin the furniture.”

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“This is the girl from the coffee place,” he said to a nearby guest, not bothering to lower his voice.

Ethan shifted beside her. Carter waited.

The guest—a hedge fund manager Carter had met once in a different context, though he clearly did not recognize her out of her weekday anonymity—gave a polite, empty smile. “Ah.”

Carter could have embarrassed all continue reading …

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