Love Beyond Heartbreak

The key slid into the lock with a familiar click. Three weeks on the road had left my muscles aching and my mind numb, but the thought of seeing Cruz again made my heart race. I'd driven through three states in that time, hauling freight across endless highways, surviving on gas station coffee and truck stop showers.

"I'm home," I called out, my voice echoing through our apartment. The silence that greeted me felt strange after weeks of engine roar and highway noise.

I dropped my duffel bag by the door, my eyes widening as I took in the sight before me. Our small living room was transformed. A cream-colored Louis Vuitton bag sat prominently on the coffee table, its gold hardware gleaming under the overhead light. Beside it stood a tower of unopened champagne bottles, their foil tops catching the light like miniature suns.

"What the hell?" I whispered, moving closer.

A pair of red-bottomed heels lay discarded near the couch, size 7—at least two sizes too small for my feet. I ran my fingers over the soft leather of a designer jacket I'd never seen before, the price tag still dangling from the sleeve: $2,400.

My stomach twisted as I moved toward our bedroom. The bed was made—perfectly made—with a silk comforter I didn't recognize. On the dresser sat a jewelry box I'd never seen before, its lid open to reveal diamond earrings that caught the light like tiny stars.

"Cruz?" My voice cracked as I called out again.

The sound of keys in the lock made me spin around. Cruz walked in, his arm wrapped around a woman I'd never seen before. She was stunning—tall and willowy with glossy black hair cascading down her back. Her designer dress hugged every curve, and her smile held a confidence I'd never possessed.

"Kyla," Cruz said, his voice flat. "You're back early."

"Who is this?" I asked, gesturing toward the woman.

"This is Stella," he replied, not bothering to introduce me. "My top donor."

Stella's eyes swept over me, taking in my faded jeans and work-stained jacket, my hair pulled back in a messy ponytail after days of wearing a trucker cap. Her lips curled into a smile that never reached her eyes.

"So this is the famous Kyla," she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "I've heard so much about you. Though I must say, the real thing is even more... quaint than Cruz described."

My cheeks burned as I looked between them. "What's going on here? And what are all these..." I gestured to the expensive items scattered around our apartment.

"Oh, those?" Cruz shrugged, as if they were nothing. "Just some gifts from Stella. She understands what it takes to build a successful streaming career."

"I gave you money for equipment," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "For your career. For us."

Stella laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Oh, honey. Is that what he told you? That's adorable." She picked up one of