Chapter 2

"I'll do it. I'll be your sugar daddy or whatever you call it. I'll support you, no matter what. So please, stop living like that."

Those were the exact words that squeezed my brittle, dishonest heart back then.

I was alone for years. I didn't have the time to love and be loved because I had to fend for myself. Believe it or not, I had never had a sexual relationship with my sugar dads since I had one when I was sixteen. Some of them said they'd wait until I turn eighteen. Some insisted on claiming me, so I had to give up on them. Until my remaining dads stopped supporting my privileged ass because I never let them have me when I had already turned eighteen, so I resorted to swindling men during meet-ups.

That was when I met Dylan.

I had scammed him into thinking we'd end in bed, but I laced his drink and transferred his money to a stolen account.

Then he looked for me and found me barely making a living after I stole all his money, which in turn was stolen from me by my gambling addict father the moment I had withdrawn everything.

I didn't know how and why Dylan did, but he fell for me out of the blue, and instead of taking me to the cops, he said he'd support me through college without expecting anything.

Until I fell for him, and I changed for him. I enrolled myself in college and started doing and tolerating decent part-time jobs because I felt ashamed of myself, and I didn't want him to grow tired of me.

We dated for eight months, and just when I was so sure he was the one, he suddenly disappeared on me.

I, once again, lost myself. Maybe the right path wasn't for me.

I went back to swindling men. I had already acquired skills and experience in conning those up-to-no-good-but-wealthy men, so I happily accepted my fate.

Until I got detained yesterday.

And Dylan, even after his death, saved my ass.

'No! This ain't real!'

I screamed in my head as I walked inside St. James chapel, where Dylan was laid to his final rest.

I wore my black Chanel tweed dress, which Dylan gave me. I just let my red, permed hair down. My swollen eyes were covered with a pair of square sunglasses. I clutched my nose, making sure my three layers of face masks were still in place, as there were several wreaths of lilies and hyacinths inside.

'It doesn't matter if I die here. I just wanted to see him one final time.'

I stopped in my tracks as a weeping woman caught my attention.

"No! My son!" An old lady in a black coat repeatedly wailed Dylan's name as she stroked the glass lid of his coffin. "Dylan! My son! Please… wake up," she pleaded.

I knew how it felt— losing someone you love. I was thirteen when my mother succumbed to pneumonia. It was brief— her life and death, but the pain it had caused me had lasted for years.

Dylan's mom's sobs and screams filled the entire chapel. A young woman was holding her by her arms, crying with her, and also stopping her from opening the coffin. I knew she was Dylan's younger sister.

At this point, I wanted to run and join them as they cried and mourned for him. I wanted to scream and ask him to come back to us, but my feet wouldn't budge.

My mask were already soaked with tears that had started falling from my eyes.

I suddenly realized I couldn't do it— I couldn't get myself to look at him and say goodbye to him, forever.

I was about to turn around and leave when someone with a soft voice suddenly spoke to me. "Aren't you going to see him?"

I turned to look at the woman beside me. She was wearing a black French dress. Her blonde hair was tied into a half-ponytail. Her eyes were brown, and her skin was fair, unlike mine.

I instantly knew she was the woman Dylan was going to marry.

"I am sorry for your loss," I muttered, but why did I feel like I was the one who lost him?

"You can tell his mom. She needs it the most."

"I can't. I-I don't wanna see him like that."

I held in a sob, my lips trembling underneath my mask, my heart pounding loudly.

"I should leave. I can't stay. My allergies are acting up," I added.

But she suddenly stopped me. "This will be the last time you can see him."

I felt my heart being chopped into pieces. Then she grabbed me by the arm and led me to him.

"He would want you to bid him goodbye, of all people," she muttered as we walked toward the coffin.

"You knew?" I whispered to her. I was surprised.

She threw me a faint smile. "He told me. It didn't matter because I also have someone else. It was a secret— between us." Her voice croaked.

Now I was steps away from him, but I had yet to introduce myself to his family, who was grieving beside him.

Dylan's mother and sister both looked at me as I stood beside them. Their faces both looked puffy and pale.

'Why? Why did he have to leave his loving family behind?'

"Mrs. Kurtz, she's our mutual friend," Dylan's beautiful fiancée lied. Then she turned to me. "This is Dylan's mom, Regina. And that is his little sister, Dianne."

I forgot to ask her name, but I'll never forget how good of a woman she was. If Dylan was still alive, I wouldn't mind him marrying her instead of me. She seemed like a good woman.

Mrs. Kurtz slightly nodded at me.

"I-I'm so sorry—" I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence as my lips started trembling.

"Thank you," Dylan's sister responded. She and her mother walked over to the corner, giving me a moment with Dylan.

"I'll go get you some drink, okay?" Dylan's fiancée left me alone— with him.

My eyes slowly darted toward the coffin lid. I couldn't almost recognized him. His pale face had a recognizable dent. His nose was broken, and the make-up didn't even do a good job of hiding the stitches on his face and neck. It was heartbreaking to see him like that.

'It must have hurt so much.' I trailed my hand on the glass covering his face. 'I'm sorry I wasn't there to ease your pain.'

It had been a month or two since I last touched him, so I was itching to open the lid and lock him in my arms, but all I could do was weep silently and hold back my sorrow and grief.

'I didn't even got a chance to tell you that I love you. I love you so much, Dylan. Now, what am I gonna do without you?'

I finally let out the sob I was holding in earlier. It didn't matter if they misunderstood me. Even if I could see Dylan's mom and sister staring at me, possibly weighing my relationship with him, it didn't matter.

Suddenly, I was struck by the voice of a man from behind me.

"Mrs. Kurtz," he called Dylan's mom out. I saw her go from being hurt and in despair to being infuriated.

"What are you doing here?" Mrs. Kurtz's voice thundered through the chapel.

I was stunned to see her reaction and, at the same time, intrigued, so I turned to look at the man behind me.

I was even more stupefied to see him— that guy with the weird name from the cell yesterday.

'What the actual fuck is happening here?'