What feeds your soul? Love? Money? Sex?
How far can you go to achieve the things that you want?
What do you do to satiate the hunger? Nothing.
You don't even try, you'll rather starve.
You'll let the dreams die.
But that's not what these girls chos...
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CORA STARED AT her engagement ring on the floor, the diamonds in them catching the light and reflecting back, glinting against the marble floor of her penthouse. If she was a middle-class girl, then she'd definitely get a heart attack—well, probably not because she wouldn't be able to afford to own it anyway. But the ring wasn't hers. Well, it was, but she didn't pay for it. Not that it mattered because it would hardly make so much of a dent in her bank account. It was Brody Chamberlain's ring.
"So this is it?" The crack in his voice seemed genuine, but she knew better than that. He was always so good at acting, making her believe that she was always the one who was wrong, that she always hurt him. Taking acting classes in college must've paid him well since he was here in front of her, acting like she had broken his heart, crushed it with her fingers and punctured it with her long manicured nails.
She should've felt sad, breaking up with the man she thought she would love one day—the whole set up was forced by her parents, of course, wanting to expand their business which she had refused to be the heir to, mostly to get more money—but she didn't. Cora tried to love him, maybe she was even getting there, willing to look past their differences. But Brody was too much of a snob than she could handle. Her love life was terrible. Throughout high school, either the boys hated her cause she was rich, or followed her around cause she was rich. That's all they could see, rich.
She thought Brody would be different because he already had the money he needed. But of course, he had to be so work-oriented that she wouldn't get the time of the day. And also, being money-minded all the time. She wondered if anyone in her family, neighbourhood or contacts thought about things other than money? It was all business to them, with the exception of a few. She knew it was wrong of her to generalize all the rich people so if she'd been caught bad mouthing them, it meant she was talking about the rich people that she knew.
"Yes, Brody," Cora said for the umpteenth time, hoping that the words would get through his thick head. Why was he so persistent when he couldn't even put in an ounce of effort when they were together? "We're done."
The evening sun reflected on half his face, tracing out the angles of his jaw, the slope of his nose. He was handsome, even she couldn't deny it. Handsome in a startling way, the colour of his eyes a distracting grey, somehow distorting his face into a beautiful mess. Maybe because the physical attraction was so compelling, Cora almost reached over to trace lines of his jaw. But she stopped. No, she chided herself. This wasn't going to do her any good. Pretty boys don't mean they are always pretty inside.
He lowered his eyes to the ring on the floor.
She didn't mean for the ring to end up immediately on the floor. Her aim was at Brody's face when they were arguing a couple of minutes ago and she had twisted the ring out of her finger and thrown at his face. Only that it didn't reach there—the throw wasn't powerful enough to cover the distance between them and it clattered on the floor instead, as if it was worth nothing.
