You never loved Rafe.

Not in the way he probably wanted. Not in the way people whispered about when they saw you on his arm at parties, his hand on your waist like you were something expensive he could show off.

You were with him for the money. The status. The easy way people looked at you differently when you stood next to him, the way doors opened just because you were his.

And he knew. He always knew.

But he never cared.

Because he wanted something, too—a pretty girl to stand beside him, to make it look like he had it all. To make it seem like being Rafe Cameron wasn’t exhausting.

Until tonight.

The house is quiet when you get there, the storm outside making the walls groan. No music, no voices, no signs of Rafe throwing another party just to feel something. Just silence.

And then—water running.

You step into his bathroom without knocking. You don’t know why. Maybe out of habit, maybe because part of you is actually worried.

But you don’t expect to see this.

Rafe, sitting on the shower floor, fully clothed, water pounding down on him as his shoulders shake.

You freeze.

For a second, you consider walking away, pretend you never saw, pretend he’s still just the spoiled son of the richest man on the island, and you’re just the girl using him for what he can give you.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step forward, kneel beside him, and reach for him.

And when he feels your touch, something inside him snaps.

He turns into you, arms wrapping around you in a way that feels desperate, like he’s holding onto the only real thing he has. His face buries in your shoulder, his breath ragged, and then—he breaks.

You’ve never seen him cry before. Never thought he could.

But here he is, drowning in something deeper than water, shaking in your arms like he doesn’t know how to stop.

And suddenly, he’s not just Rafe Cameron, the rich boy with everything.

He’s just a boy.

A boy who has nothing at all.