I love money, but I don't love men who have more money than I do. So, torn between my successful high school sweetheart and a seemingly directionless bad boy with bleached blond hair, I ignored my parents' objections and married the bad boy. Because he always knew how to make a quick buck, and he always let me take the lion's share. Three years later, we closed another massive deal. When it was time to split the cash... My bad boy husband, Arthur, asked me: "Do you want the money, or do you want me?" "I want the money." He didn't take a single cent from that deal. Instead, he looked at me and said, "Then let's get a divorce." 1 I stopped counting the cash and looked at Arthur in surprise. He knew I loved money. In the past, we would always playfully argue over the split, but in the end, he would always let me take more, making sure I was just a little bit richer than him. We never fought. During our entire relationship, he had never even mentioned breaking up, yet today, he was asking for a divorce. I asked blankly, "Why do you want a divorce?" Standing by the door, he stopped in his tracks, wearing his usual playful grin. "You always get the bigger cut. It's not fair." His gaze fell on the remaining stack of cash on the table. He raised an eyebrow and said, "It's all yours. I'm out of here." My foot twitched toward the door. This wasn't the first time he'd played a trick like this. He'd throw a little tantrum and then come right back. I looked back at the money on the table and pulled my foot back. Our profession was scouting out old streets and neighborhoods that were likely targets for redevelopment and buying up the properties. Take this latest deal, for example. We calculated that this specific street was primed for demolition, so two years ago, we started buying the old houses door-to-door. We paid above market value back then, but today, the massive redevelopment payout had just hit our accounts. But to my parents, without a physical storefront or a traditional 9-to-5 job, we were just irresponsible slackers. The next evening, in a rare display of domesticity, I cooked dinner and called him. "Stop messing around. I made dinner. Hurry up and come home." On the other end of the line, he said he wasn't coming back. I twirled the ends of my hair around my finger and threatened casually, "If you're not back by midnight, I'm going to get back together with Liam." With that, I hung up, a confident smile on my face. Arthur, who was usually easygoing, would explode and get insanely jealous the moment he heard my ex's name. I sat leisurely on the couch, eating fruit and watching the news, while simultaneously researching which street we should buy up next. It wasn't until the clock hit 11:30 PM that a wave of panic hit me. I had never felt this kind of imbalance before. I gripped my phone tightly, staring at the minutes slowly ticking away on the screen. Finally, at exactly midnight, there was a knock at the door. I practically sprinted to the entryway and pulled it open. "Miss, your courier package. Please sign here." A courier in a blue uniform stood at the door. I opened the envelope. Inside was a formal divorce agreement. He was serious? The courier glanced at the document in my hands. "Miss, please sign quickly. I still have to return it. Who gets a divorce in the middle of the night anyway?" I felt a sting of humiliation. I grabbed a pen, hastily scribbled my signature, and slammed the door shut. Then, I immediately called Arthur, but he sent me straight to voicemail. I quickly opened our text thread and started typing furiously. [Liam has been visiting my parents a lot since I dumped him. He's coming over for dinner tomorrow, and I'm going too. Now that we're divorced, you finally can't tell me what to do!] After hitting send, I felt like I had won another round. 2 The next day, I bought some gifts and headed to my parents' house. When they saw it was me, a flash of surprise crossed their eyes, followed quickly by sheer joy. After all, I hadn't been back since I ran away from home. Sitting on their sofa was Liam, my high school sweetheart. He straightened his clothes and looked at me, a slight blush creeping up his neck. "Chloe, what are you doing here?" I shot him a look. "It's my own home. Am I not allowed to come back?" He awkwardly scratched his head. During dinner, I kept my eyes on my phone and secretly sent Arthur a second message. [If you don't reply in ten minutes, I'm marrying Liam.] After dinner, I stood on the balcony, letting the cool breeze hit me. Still no reply from Arthur. Liam walked over, handed me a glass of water, and said, "I'm sorry. I was wrong back then. I'm the reason you turned out like this..." Liam and I dated during our senior year of college. We were at the stage of discussing marriage. The day we broke up was the day that changed my entire life. I had lost a hundred-dollar bill he had given me, and I quietly apologized. But he berated me in front of our entire class, demanding to know what I was actually good for. I was annoyed, so I yelled back, "It's just a hundred bucks! I'll pay you back, okay?!" Instead of letting it go, he suddenly stood up from his desk, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me against the wall. He had already started a small computer repair shop through his own hard work, and he had become incredibly tight-fisted with money. He told me that making money was hard. He said that even as a college senior, I was still mooching off my parents, and asked if I planned to mooch off him for the rest of my life. I didn't understand why he was acting like that and continued to argue back. That's when he slapped me right across the face in front of everyone. Arthur, a notorious slacker from the neighboring department, happened to be walking past our classroom. He rushed in, knocked Liam to the ground, grabbed my hand, and dragged me away to the school track. When I called my parents crying to complain, they both sympathized with Liam's struggles and even told me that he was right. That day, I hugged my knees and cried my eyes out. I finally understood the importance of money. Spending other people's money meant they could look down on you. So, I decided I wanted to make money. I wanted to be richer than all of them. That way, no matter how I spent my money, no one could point a finger at me. I didn't go home for the next few days. Arthur booked a hotel room for me, and I stayed there alone. At night, he took me out clubbing, blowing thousands in a single night. During the day, he took me to fancy restaurants, dropping hundreds on a single meal. At the time, I thought, He's an orphan. How does he have so much sketchy money? I even asked him if he was doing something illegal. He just sneered. "Money is everywhere, you just need the brains to see it." After that, I started hanging out with him, demanding he show me how to make money. He always gave in to me, always letting me take the bigger cut. 3 My parents watched Liam and me standing on the balcony and tentatively spoke up: "Chloe, it's been many years. Liam has been waiting for you." I knew exactly what they were hinting at. "I'm divorced," I said flatly. Liam immediately asked if I could give him another chance. I pointed to the old street right across from my parents' house, my eyes gleaming. "Acquire this entire street, and I'll marry you. All you have to do is negotiate; I'll provide the capital." I could see Liam was hesitant. To him, this kind of business was unethical because it involved keeping secrets from the sellers. I grabbed my purse and turned to leave. "If it's too hard, forget it. You don't love me as much as Arthur did anyway." As I pulled the front door open, Liam's voice rang out behind me: "I can do it!" I let out a soft chuckle and walked out. Any street I set my sights on, Arthur would have undoubtedly noticed before me. So, the news that I would marry Liam if he acquired this street would definitely reach Arthur's ears. Just as I expected, a year later, right as Liam was about to finalize the deals, someone swooped in and snatched it out from under him. Every single homeowner who had agreed to sell backed out. I was standing at the corner of the street when Arthur, who had vanished for a whole year, suddenly appeared in front of me with his signature slacker swagger. "You want this street too?" I rolled my eyes at him. "Boss Arthur has already taken it down. What are you pretending for?" He put on a look of total bewilderment. "I just heard the news and came to check it out." I looked at him closely. His formerly bleached blond hair had long been dyed back to black. He didn't look like he was lying. But in our line of work, lying without batting an eye was the most basic skill. With every sentence we exchanged, I questioned its authenticity. For the next few days, I followed him around everywhere, eating and drinking on his dime. Every day, I would ask him, "Did you really acquire this street? Transfer it to me." But his lips were sealed tight. He always just flashed that playful grin and gave me ambiguous answers. I didn't contact him for the following week because I ended up lying in a private hospital bed. Acute kidney failure. When he rushed in, the playful grin was completely gone. He looked at my pale lips and gripped my hand tightly. His expression had never been so serious. "Why so sudden?" I spoke slowly and weakly, "Maybe it's my own stubbornness. You know my love for money has become a sickness... "Since I'm dying anyway, can you finally tell me if you acquired that street?" He whispered anxiously, "How can you still be thinking about that street at a time like this?" Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. "Did you acquire it or not?! I'm dying, and you still won't tell me?!" Arthur stood up abruptly. "I'll come see you later." He turned and walked toward the door. Listening to his retreating footsteps, I quickly grabbed a mirror to check my "sick" makeup. Good, it was flawless. For a second, I thought he had caught on. A day passed, and he still hadn't come back to see me. Bored lying in bed, I started wandering around the private hospital. I noticed a door slightly ajar. The person lying in the hospital bed inside looked exactly like Arthur. I gently pushed the door open and walked in. He lay weakly on the bed, slowly opening his eyes to look at me. "You're here..." I frowned deeply and sat on the edge of his bed. "What happened to you?" He parted his lips slightly. "I went to the doctor yesterday to see if I could give you one of my kidneys... but the results came back..." I looked at him sternly. "What were the results?" He let out a weak chuckle. "Just like you, I also have acute kidney failure." 4 I was stunned. Looking at his frail expression, I couldn't bring myself to say another word. He patted the back of my hand. He said, "I'll give you three chances. You can ask me three questions. Consider it my final gift to you." The questions were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. "Just focus on resting for now." He shook his head. "I'll be discharged tomorrow anyway. Lying in the hospital won't do any good. Want to go together?" I nodded. The next day, we both checked out and went back to his place. His condition today genuinely looked like a sick person's—at least much more convincing than mine. My nose stung with unshed tears. Just like before, he held his laptop, researching which old streets were ripe for acquisition. I sat on the desk, watching him. The first question: "That street, did you acquire it?" He put down the laptop, crossed his arms, and looked at me. "Why do you want to know so badly?" Looking at his haggard face, my eyes welled up with tears. I reached out, hugged him, and started crying. "I don't know why you wanted to divorce me. If you admit you acquired the street, it proves you still love me." He reached out, stroked my cheek, and nodded. "I acquired it. When I heard you were going to marry him, my heart broke. I couldn't stand to see you marry him." I looked up at him. "Then why did you divorce me?" He gently wiped away my tears and smiled. "Didn't I tell you? You always took the bigger cut." I shook my head. "That question doesn't count. Let me change it. Do you really have acute kidney failure?" He pulled me into his embrace, stroked my hair, and said in a serious, low voice: "You are the woman I love most... I used to wonder if, when we got old, we'd still bicker every day. "When I found out I had this disease, I just wanted to leave the best things I had for you before I go." He cupped my face, looking at me with deep affection. I froze, nodding slowly as tears welled in my eyes. The next second, he couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The haggard look on his face vanished instantly. 5 I pushed him away angrily. "You lied to me again! I knew it couldn't be such a coincidence!" He leaned close to my face and whispered, "What about you?" I lifted my chin defiantly. "Of course mine is real! I'm dying and you're still lying to me!" He shrugged. "Then mine is real too." I sat on the couch, fuming. "Since neither of us is going to tell the truth, let's just not talk at all!" He smiled and shook his head. After calming down, I continued, "That last question didn't count either. I still have two questions left, right?" He nodded. "Whatever you say." I smiled happily. "Can you give me the contract for that street too?" "Sure." He took me up to the second-floor bedroom and handed me the contract. I grabbed the contract and happily threw my arms around his neck. He responded enthusiastically. "Now you're richer than me again." When we woke up the next morning, I reached for the contract on the nightstand, reading it over and over, a smile playing on my lips. "Time to get up. Come with me somewhere," he said as he pushed the door open. I waved the contract in my hand. "Don't forget you have to come with me to the notary office to transfer the contract." After getting ready, he took me to a jewelry store and asked me to help him pick out a wedding ring. I teased him, "What, are you proposing again?" I used to constantly complain about the ring he picked when he first proposed. It seemed he had finally learned his lesson and was letting me pick it myself. He laughed. "It's not for you. Just help me pick." Naturally, I picked the biggest diamond ring in the store. After paying, he slipped the ring into his pocket. Then, we went to the notary office to process the contract transfer. After handing the documents to the clerk, I turned to look at Arthur. He couldn't hide the smile on his face. It was the exact same expression he had the last time he proposed. I cleared my throat and said, "Wait here. I'm going to the restroom." I quickly walked to the restroom, washed my hands multiple times, and applied a thick layer of hand cream, prepping myself for the impending proposal. After fussing for half an hour, I held out my fingers. Seeing they looked soft and delicate, I walked back to the counter, thoroughly satisfied. The clerk handed the contract back to me and stated, "This is invalid. It's a fake contract." "What?" I took the contract suspiciously, rapidly scanning the clauses and signatures. "That's impossible. Are you sure you didn't read it wrong?..." Just as I was about to argue with the clerk, I looked over at Arthur. He couldn't suppress his smirk anymore. I had been tricked again. I furiously slammed the contract against his chest, screaming, "Arthur, is playing me for a fool really that fun for you?!" He looked at me with that same punchable grin. "I just love seeing you angry." More and more people in the notary office stopped to watch the crazy woman and the calm man. I took a deep breath. "If you keep this up, don't even think about me marrying you again!" Arthur stood up. "When did I ever say I wanted you to marry me again?" 6 I pointed at the ring in his pocket. "Isn't that for me?" Arthur chuckled. "We're already divorced. Why would it be for you?" In the past, if a joke went this far, he would immediately start coaxing me. But today, he didn't. Just as I was about to speak again, my parents walked into the notary office with Liam. Liam excitedly handed me a contract. "Chloe, I finally managed to secure this contract! Don't worry, you don't have to pay a cent. It's a gift." Before I could even speak, he handed the contract to the clerk to process the transfer. I watched the clerk's serious expression. "Yes, this one is authentic. We will now transfer it to Chloe Price's name." Arthur leaned in close and whispered, "I told you I didn't acquire it, but you didn't believe me. It seems he's really changed. Congratulations." My eyes widened slightly in shock. I quickly snatched my ID back from the clerk. "There's no need to transfer it." Leaving my confused parents and Liam behind, along with that smiling Arthur, I walked out of the notary office alone. Back in my car, I stared blankly at the entrance of the notary office. It seemed it really had all been my own wishful thinking. I never believed Arthur would genuinely care about how we split the money. I had always assumed he snatched that old street away just for me. I never expected he only admitted to it because I was annoying him so much. I let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. All those years of him taking care of me had given me a blind, arrogant confidence. Tap. Tap. Tap. Someone knocked on my window. My parents and Liam had somehow found their way to my car. I unlocked the doors. They got in and immediately started discussing my wedding with Liam. I cut them off. "How did you know I was at the notary office?" My parents looked at each other. Liam stayed silent for a moment before saying, "We originally came to ask about the contract transfer process, and then we saw you." "The old street was already acquired by someone else. How did you get it? And where did you get so much money?" Liam didn't speak. My mom told me that to get this street and marry me, Liam had gone to the previous buyer's house every single day, begging them. He eventually acquired it by paying a 20% premium over the original purchase price. As for the money, he transferred ownership of all his storefronts, sold his old family home, and took out a massive bank loan just to buy that old street for me. My mom told me not to let him down. After dropping my parents off, I went downstairs alone. My mind was a mess. Everything happening recently was slowly spiraling out of my control. Liam chased me downstairs and called out my name. 7 He said, "Chloe, I know with your wealth now, you don't lack a single street. Maybe that day you just said it casually." I looked at him coldly. "If you know I don't want to get married, then why did you come down?" He paused, then said, "Putting that one incident aside, we were really good together before, right?" I didn't answer. He continued, "The things you and Arthur do, even though they aren't illegal, they always involve deceiving people..." I cut him off. "Shut up! What do you mean 'deceiving people'? The money we offered was above market value! It was a willing transaction between buyer and seller." He kept arguing with me, saying that if they hadn't sold to us, they would have made even more money when the demolition happened. He also told me that this kind of work looked shady to outsiders, and it would be embarrassing if relatives or friends asked about it and we couldn't give a straight answer. I covered my ears and walked quickly toward my car. He continued babbling behind me. They completely didn't understand. Why should I care what other people think? I have financial freedom now; I can go wherever I want. And they definitely didn't understand how much judgment and mockery Arthur, an orphan, had endured to get to where he was. Besides, the people we contacted... some had family members who were sick and couldn't afford treatment. Some needed to put their kids through school, or had whole extended families crammed into a tiny, dilapidated house, or needed money for a bride price. Like us, they didn't know for sure if the demolition would happen. They couldn't afford to gamble, and they couldn't just wait around doing nothing. They had tried to sell their houses themselves, but buyers lowballed them relentlessly. So they willingly sold to us. Were we in the wrong? The moment I opened my car door, Liam stopped me. "Have you still not forgiven me?" I said coldly, "Why should I forgive you? The most humiliating moment of my life was given to me by you." I shoved him hard and got into the car. He said, "Arthur doesn't even want you anymore." My hand, about to close the door, stopped. I said quietly, "Even so, you still won't get a turn." I will never forget that day after Arthur hit him. Liam rallied a group of "good students" to boycott and slander Arthur, reporting him to the administration and causing a massive scene. Because of that, Arthur was forced to drop out. Luckily, he was strong, and he even comforted me, telling me not to blame myself. In the rearview mirror, Liam was holding his phone, looking incredibly anxious. These people... when I had no money, they constantly criticized me for living off my parents. When I got rich, they hovered around me, constantly analyzing the so-called "pros and cons." After leaving school, Arthur and I had relied solely on each other. We had no friends, but we thoroughly enjoyed our life as a duo. At a red light, my car stopped right outside the jewelry store Arthur had taken me to that afternoon. I stared inside, lost in thought. Right. Neither he nor I had any friends. So who was that ring for? Maybe he was just messing with me again this afternoon. Maybe he didn't actually want to hand me over to Liam. Holding onto the confidence built from years of relying only on each other, I made a U-turn and drove toward Arthur's house. I used my key to open his front door. The first thing I saw was all the furniture covered in white dust sheets. I walked through the entire house. He had left. I pulled out my phone and called him. It went straight to voicemail. I could only comfort myself, thinking he must have gone out of town to scout a new project. We used to do this—randomly disappear for a few days. We would go to other cities to investigate old streets, and if we could secure a deal, we would immediately tell the other person the good news. Of course, these post-disappearance "surprises" weren't really surprises to us anymore, but we always played along, faking an exaggerated look of shock. I pulled off the white sheets and moved into his house.
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