Chapter 4: The Price of Humiliation

On Caleb and Natalie’s wedding day, Derek still dragged me along.

He showed up at my door in a suit that probably cost more than my rent, insisting I come. I tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. We drove to the church in his sleek black BMW, the city blurring by. My stomach churned with dread.

The stained glass windows threw colored patterns across the aisle. Somewhere, a baby cried and someone’s phone buzzed, but all I could see was Caleb’s hand in Natalie’s.

She wore a designer gown, white and shimmering, her hair in an elaborate twist. Caleb looked nervous but happy. They were picture-perfect—everyone’s dream, except mine. I watched from the back pew, wishing I was anywhere else.

The way they looked at each other made me believe in fairy tales, even when I knew better. Their families watched with tears in their eyes. The whole church felt heavy with hope. I felt like an outsider, an uninvited guest at someone else’s happy ending.

Watching the boy I once loved marry the girl who used to yank my hair and slap my face—I couldn’t help feeling miserable inside.

I gripped the pew so hard my knuckles turned white. The memories came flooding back—ice water, whispered insults, feeling less than. I wondered if they even remembered what they’d done to me. The pain felt as fresh as ever.

Derek saw right through me, his arm tightening around my waist in displeasure.

He leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. The jealousy rolled off him in waves. He didn’t like sharing my attention, not even with ghosts. His grip was possessive—a silent warning.

"Keep staring and I’ll fuck you right here."

His words were crude, meant to shock. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I refused to let him see me squirm. People glanced over, curious but too polite to stare. I wanted to melt into the floor.

As the only son of the powerful Mercer family, people kept coming over to chat with him.

He worked the room like a politician—shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, making jokes at my expense. Everyone wanted a piece of him, and he loved the attention. I stood by his side, forced smiles plastered on my face, counting down the minutes until we could leave.

"Hey, isn’t this Thirty Bucks?"

A bald man reeking of whiskey leaned in. "Derek, still not tired of playing with her?"

The stench of cheap booze hit me like a wave. His laugh was loud and obnoxious, drawing stares. I shrank back, wishing I could disappear. The nickname—so cruel, so permanent—felt like a brand burned into my skin.

Even now, years later, I flinched whenever I heard the cash register ring at the grocery store.

Back then, Derek blocked my way, waving the love letter above his head like a trophy.

He made sure everyone saw, reading my words aloud in a mocking voice. The letter was meant to be private, a secret hope. He turned it into a spectacle—my pain, his entertainment. I wanted to disappear.

"You are like the stars in the sky, lighting up my dim life…"

He pinched his voice, mimicking a girl, reading my letter to Caleb word for word.

The words sounded so stupid coming from his mouth, twisted and ugly. The class howled, and my cheeks burned with humiliation. I tried to grab the letter back, but he held it high, taunting me.

My face burned with shame. I stood on tiptoe, desperate to snatch it back, not realizing how close we were.

For a split second, our eyes met. He leaned in, close enough for me to smell the gum he was chewing. I froze, caught between fight and flight.

"So eager to throw yourself at a guy? How much for a night?"

Derek’s words froze me, humiliation rendering me speechless.

It felt like the world stopped. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The laughter grew louder, crueler. I wanted to disappear.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "Thirty bucks for the whole night!"

The entire class erupted in laughter.

I felt like I was drowning. The words echoed in my head, following me everywhere. I stopped making eye contact. I became invisible, except when they wanted to remind me of my place.

From then on, "Thirty Bucks" became my nickname, following me everywhere for years…

It showed up in yearbooks, on bathroom stalls, whispered behind my back. Even now, as an adult, I flinched when I heard someone mention money, as if the nickname might come roaring back at any moment. In America, reputations stick, especially in small towns like ours.

The rage from those memories exploded into a slap, leaving the bald man stunned.

My palm stung, but it felt good—a small act of rebellion in a lifetime of submission. The room went silent, every eye on me. For a moment, I saw shock in Derek’s eyes, but it quickly turned to something else—something dangerous.

For once, the room was silent—and for the first time, I wondered if I could really fight back.