Chapter 6

That evening, I called a locksmith and changed the locks.

I packed my bags, grabbed my property deed, and contacted an old classmate.

He was a well-known, wealthy heir in Chicago.

Without hesitation, he agreed to rent me a luxury townhouse in the city center for a mere $2,000 a month.

The next day, Mario’s call came through. He sounded like a detective interrogating a criminal.

"Betty! Where the hell are you? Why won't my key work?!"

"Do you know my startup is in desperate need of cash right now? If you don't want that Mukbang account, just give it to me!"

I chewed on a sweet baby carrot, amused.

"It's my apartment and my account. I do whatever the hell I want with them."

"And who do you think you are, talking to me in that tone, Mario?"

In my past life, after we got together, I used my hard-earned money to buy him a closet full of Air Jordans.

He never wore cheap, $10 t-shirts again; everything he wore was name-brand.

On our engagement day, I bought him a $12,000 Rolex with the payout from my first major brand deal.

I packaged him into a wealthy, successful gentleman.

But he forgot. Without my money lifting him up, he was still just a loser whose entire outfit didn't even cost fifty bucks.

Then came Samantha’s texts, spamming my Snapchat:

Betty, why can't I find your Mukbang account anymore?

I smiled, my eyes cold. Because I’m getting skinny and taking my throne back, bitch.