HARPER’S POV
I pushed my apartment door open and dragged my suitcase inside, letting the heavy wooden door click shut.
I dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl on the entryway table.
The venue scouting trip ended a day earlier and I couldn’t be more grateful, because right all I wanted to do was sleep.
I took my coat off and draped it over the sofa, immediately noticing a pair of red high heels resting near the coffee table.
They belonged to my younger sister, Chloe.
She had a spare key to my apartment, but I didn’t recall asking her to come over. I frowned and walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
A heavy thudding noise came from behind the closed door, followed by breathy moans and muffled voices.
The closer I got, the louder they became.
“Oh fuck. Yes baby”
Chole was fucking another guy in my apartment!
This was the pinnacle of her recent doings. I reached out and turned the brass handle, pushing the wood wide open, ready to scold my sister on getting an actual hotel room for her miscellaneous sexual adventures.
Only to find Mason my fiancee, in my bed.
He was on my bedsheets with Chole bent over under him.
My fiancee was fucking my sister in my bed.
My hands went numb and for a minute it felt like I couldn’t breath. I dropped my purse on the floor in shock, the loud noise immediately alerted them of my presence.
Mason froze and turned his head to look over his shoulder. While Chloe gasped and pulled the sheets up quickly to cover her bare chest.
I felt sweat gather at the back of my neck. I stared at the man I agreed to marry two months ago. We kept the engagement private at his strict request.
He claimed he wanted to enjoy our little secret before dealing with our families, and I trusted him.
"Harper," Mason said, pulling himself out of the bed and grabbing his pants from the floor.
"Get out of my apartment," I instructed, while trying to keep my voice steady despite the fact that my fingers were trembling.
"It's not what it looks like," Chloe lied, refusing to look at me as she scrambled to find her clothes.
"You were both literally fucking in my bed," I stated, taking a step back into the hallway to avoid stepping into the room. "Both of you need to pack your things and leave right now."
Mason pulled his jeans up and buckled his belt. He didn't look ashamed, and he didn't apologize.
The charming facade he wore for two years completely vanished.
He looked at me with pure annoyance, treating my early arrival as a simple inconvenience rather than a total betrayal.
"You were supposed to be in Chicago until tomorrow," Mason noted, grabbing his shirt from the armchair.
"Get the fuck out of here!" I demanded again, fighting back tears. "If you aren't out of my apartment in five minutes, I'll call the police and have you removed for trespassing."
Mason laughed, slipping his arms into his shirt and buttoning it up. "You don't need to call anyone, Harper. We're leaving."
He walked out of the bedroom, grabbing his shoes from the dresser. Chloe followed closely behind him, keeping her head down and carrying her heels.
They walked past me in the narrow hallway. Chloe refused to look at me, but Mason stopped right in front of me.
"You always worked too much anyway," Mason said, offering a cruel smirk before walking toward the front door.
“I said get out!” I screamed, this time I couldn’t hold it in any longer as tears flowed freely from my eyes.
They left the apartment, pulling the front door shut behind them. The lock clicked, leaving me entirely alone in the quiet space.
I walked into the living room, sank onto the sofa and sobbed quietly.
My body went into a state of complete shock and I kept crying uncontrollably. What did I not do for him? After everything we had been through.
What did I do to deserve this?
I sat in the dark, poundering and crying for hours, until I couldn’t anymore. I wrapped my arms around myself and waited for the nausea to pass. When the sun finally came up, I forced myself to stand up. I needed to separate my life from his immediately.
I walked into my small home office and sat down at the desk, turning on my laptop. I opened the web browser and navigated directly to my bank portal.
We shared a joint savings account for our future wedding, and I needed to transfer my portion of the money into a private account before he tried to access it.
I typed in my password and pressed the enter key, waiting for the financial dashboard to load on the screen.
The page refreshed, displaying my account balances.
My primary checking account showed a balance of zero dollars.
I blinked, assuming the website was experiencing a glitch. I clicked the refresh button, but the number remained exactly the same. I scrolled down to the joint savings account I funded entirely with my own event planning business. It also showed a balance of zero dollars.
I was at the verge of losing my sanity.
I clicked the transaction history, scanning the long list of recent transfers. Over the last four weeks, Mason initiated dozens of massive wire transfers, moving every single dollar into an offshore holding company.
He used the total privacy of our engagement to systematically steal my life savings without raising suspicion from my friends or family.
I kept scrolling down the page, the further I scrolled the more my heart beat accelerated. Below the checking and savings sections, three new accounts appeared on the screen.
They were high interest personal loans, completely maxed out to their absolute limits. Mason applied for the loans using my name, my social security number, and my business credentials.
He stole forty thousand dollars in cash and left me with eighty thousand dollars in immediate, unpayable debt.
A wave of nausea suddenly hit me, I stood up but gripped the edge of the wooden desk to remain upright.
Mason didn't just sleep with my sister. He planned this entire exit strategy. He drained my accounts and left me with nothing, knowing I would eventually catch him and kick him out.
I reached for my cell phone, intending to call the bank fraud department to report the theft. Before I could dial the security number, three loud knocks sounded at my front door.
I dropped the phone onto the desk and stood up, walking slowly through the living room. I reached the entryway and pulled the door open, expecting to see Mason returning for the rest of his belongings.
A tall man in a grey suit stood on my welcome mat. He held a thick stack of legal documents attached to a heavy clipboard. He didn't look like a property manager or a building maintenance worker.
"Harper Evans?" the man asked, holding a pen out toward me.
"Yes," I answered, keeping my hands at my sides.
"You've been officially served," the man stated, pressing the documents into my hands and stepping back into the hallway.
I looked down at the thick stack of papers. The top page featured the bold letterhead of my building management company.
It was a formal eviction notice, citing three months of unpaid rent. I flipped to the second page, finding a direct legal demand from a private loan company requiring immediate repayment of a thirty thousand dollar balance.
I looked back up, but the man was already gone. I closed the door and locked the deadbolt, leaning my back against the wood.
I had no money, no fiancé, and no sister.
I was entirely bankrupt, and I had exactly three days to vacate the premises before the local authorities threw me out onto the street.
