I got slapped twice by my mother just for using an extra sanitary pad. That was the day I swore to God I would never be poor again. So, when I managed to hook Carter Vance, my billionaire benefactor, I used every trick in the book to chase away every other pretty little thing around him. Everyone in our circle thought I was going to be the future Mrs. Vance. They even teased us at a private party last night: "I heard Carter placed a blind max bid at a charity auction last night just to get a legendary diamond ring." The next second, Carter gently slipped that breathtaking, fiery diamond onto my finger. My heart hammered against my ribs. Just as I thought all my scheming had finally paid off, Carter’s deep voice echoed in my ear: "Do you like your breakup gift?" I froze, looking up in daze. Right then, the door pushed open, and a timid-looking girl walked in. Carter set down his Cuban cigar. "I’m getting married, Cassie. Tell me what else you want. Let's end this on a good note." I sized the girl up. A white dress, innocent eyes, looking like a helpless puppy. Yet, the "no-makeup" eyeliner she wore was drawn more flawlessly than a professional's. So, I swallowed the words "villa," "sports car," and "millions in cash" that were about to burst out of my mouth. Instead, I squeezed out a single, fragile tear, took off the sparkling ring, and placed it gently back on the table. "Only a bride needs a wedding ring. Keep it for her." Seeing the hesitation that flashed through his eyes, I smiled softly. "Congratulations on your wedding, Mr. Vance." What’s more lethal than a fake, innocent girl? A gold digger’s seemingly genuine heart.
My reaction caught everyone in the room off guard. Carter lit a cigarette, his tone suddenly feeling a bit distant. "Cassie, I thought you loved money more than anything." As the smoke swirled, my mind drifted back to the year I first met him. I had just escaped my toxic home. I couldn't even scrape together a few thousand dollars for my college tuition, and I was sobbing, squatting by the university gates. He was there as a guest speaker. Walking past, his strong hand steadied me and pulled me up. When I looked up, I locked eyes with his amused, handsome face. I didn't tell him about my gambling addict of a father, my weak mother, or my greedy brother. That story was too cliché. I only said five words. "I just want some money." He laughed, just as he did now. "Money is the only thing I have plenty of." A blank check was stuffed into my bag back then. But now, Carter waved his hand to the girl at the door. "Chloe, come sit by me." I glanced at the numbers on the check in my hand, a mix of affection and bitter jealousy rising in my chest. He always called me by my full name, Cassie. But for Chloe, he used a sweet nickname. Seeing how cozy they were, the guys in the room immediately started cheering. "First time meeting her, shouldn't we toast the future Mrs. Vance?" Chloe’s voice was barely a whisper. "Carter, I don't really drink..." "I heard Cassie has a high tolerance. Could she please drink this shot for me?" She held her glass with such clumsy innocence that for a second, I actually wondered if I had misjudged her. But the moment those words left her mouth, my doubts vanished. This petty little trick wouldn't even rank in the top ten compared to the other women I had chased away from Carter over the years. Carter didn't say no. He just tilted his chin toward me. But he knew damn well I had just been discharged from the hospital last month for a severe stomach ulcer. Back in the hospital room, his tone had been impatient but his eyes were unusually tender: "Do you think you're invincible? Stop drinking for me at business dinners." I actually thought that was his unspoken way of caring for me. Now, I looked at the glass of neat, burning whiskey in front of me. One shot wouldn't kill me. The silence stretched. Just when everyone thought I was going to embarrass Carter by refusing, I smiled. "I’ll drink it for her. Consider it my way of thanking you, Carter, for taking care of me all these years." With that, I grabbed the entire decanter and chugged it right in front of Carter’s shocked eyes. Before I could even process the burn, Carter frowned deeply and snatched the bottle away. There was a rare, frantic panic in his voice. "Are you insane? Go throw it up!" "Cassie, would you literally die for some cash?" I laughed and brushed his hand away. I pulled the check out of my purse. *Rip. Rip.* The multi-million dollar check was torn into halves, then quarters, and casually tossed onto the floor. "Mr. Vance, after all these years with you, I’ve already made enough." "The reason I stayed... was never about the money." If it wasn’t for the money, then what was it for? The entire room went dead silent. No one dared to ask. Even Carter pressed his lips into a tight line.
Having been with him for five years, everyone in the city's high society knew how much I loved money. Carter used to pinch my cheek and laugh. "Cassie, are you a black hole? You only take money in, never let it out." Yet, he was also the one who spoiled me the most, sending endless designer bags to my door. He had even transferred the luxury penthouse in the city center under my name. No one had ever treated me that well. I thought it was love. Looking back, those things were probably just breadcrumbs he threw to a pet bird, entirely insignificant to him. Just as Carter was about to speak. Chloe’s eyes suddenly turned red next to him. "Carter, it’s so stuffy in here. Can you take me outside for some fresh air?" The hesitation in Carter’s eyes vanished. He picked Chloe up in his arms. I watched his retreating back, the bitterness boiling in my chest again. Under the cold night sky, I hailed a cab and sent my penthouse's details to a real estate agent. Hearing that I wanted a quick sale, the agent asked for the reason. Before I could reply, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a wire transfer from Carter. He said nothing, but he transferred double the amount of that torn check. I accepted it without a shred of guilt. Since the love was gone, I might as well keep the money. I pushed open the door to my penthouse quietly. The two people on the living room sofa clearly didn't hear me come in. Carter’s face was filled with unmasked pleasure as he leaned down, whispering sweet nothings to the girl. Carter had been treated like a king since childhood; he was never one to care about others' feelings in bed. He took what he wanted, and I never had the right to say no. Yet, when Chloe tearfully pushed him away, he merely frowned with restraint. He was actually coaxing her gently. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and quietly stepped back out, closing the door. Leaning against the doorframe in the hallway, the faint sounds from inside pierced my heart, over and over. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds, calculating how many more zeros I should demand for this. Finally, the storm subsided. Carter opened the door, the fresh scratch marks on his abs painfully visible. "Am I interrupting you two?" Hearing my flat tone, Carter’s brows furrowed. After all, I used to be the one who threw tantrums and acted clingy whenever other women tried to get close. "Chloe isn't feeling well, and this place is close to the city hospital. You need to pack your things and move out so she can stay here." My hands clenched into tight fists. I had once half-jokingly told Carter about my terrible family. Back then, his tone was completely indifferent: "Cassie, I don't like women who play the victim to get my sympathy." Yet, on my twenty-third birthday, he was also the one who gifted me this very apartment. "Just because you didn't have a home growing up doesn't mean you can't build one for yourself in the future," he had said. But now, he was giving this "home" to another woman. And I could only smile and say, "Okay." Chloe, draped in Carter's suit jacket, blushed. "I'm so sorry, Cassie. I didn't know this was your place." I glanced at the countless high heels in the shoe rack, and then at the framed photo of Carter and me hanging in the hallway. "Your eyesight must be pretty bad, Miss Chloe." Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears instantly. The next second, Carter pulled her into his arms, his voice icy. "She’s just a young girl throwing a little tantrum, and you have to make a scene? Cassie, know your place." "Apologize to her." For years, I had used Carter’s influence to play the queen bee in high society. This was the first time he had ever used this tone with me for another woman. I took a deep breath, forcing a bright smile. "My apologies, Miss Chloe." "I’ll pack my things right now so I don't get in your way." Apparently not expecting me to back down so easily, a storm of complicated emotions flickered in Carter’s eyes. "Cassie, I didn't tell you to leave completely." My heart leaped for a fraction of a second.
But the next moment, he said, "Chloe needs to recover here for a couple of days. You stay and take care of her." A smug gleam flashed in Chloe’s eyes. "Sorry to trouble you, Cassie." Without a word, I walked up to her and reached out my hand. Chloe froze. Even Carter thought I was going to slap her and instinctively stepped in to block me. But I merely gently touched the diamond studs on her earlobes. "These diamonds cost about fifteen thousand dollars. They're the most expensive pair on my vanity table." "You have good taste, Chloe." *If you want to play the innocent virgin, at least hide your greedy claws.* Chloe’s smile froze, her face turning pale. Carter’s brows knitted as he looked at Chloe, a hint of suspicion arising in his eyes for the first time. "I’m sorry, Cassie... I just grabbed them randomly..." I didn't give her a chance to explain. I swiftly packed my things and cleared out of the master bedroom. "The master bedroom is yours now. The sheets are freshly changed." I glanced at her hands. "Your hands are so clean and soft. I doubt you even know how to make a bed." Carter stayed silent, his fingers tapping on the table—a habit of his when he was thinking deeply. Except for me, he had never met a genuinely poor person in his life. Now, he was probably realizing that a truly broke, struggling "girl-next-door" couldn't possibly have hands without a single callus. After all, he used to grab my hands with feigned disgust and tease: "Cassie, your hands are rougher than my grandmother's." Yet, he was also the one who constantly had luxury hand creams delivered to me. Carter suddenly spoke up. "I’ll buy this penthouse back from you at double the market price. I'll transfer the funds immediately." "Cassie, stop throwing a tantrum." Checking the transfer notification on my phone and counting the zeros, I smiled. But the satisfaction in my heart was hollow. After packing, I went into the kitchen to brew some hangover cure tea. The shower in the bathroom started running. I turned around. Chloe was standing right behind me, her sweet expression replaced by a dark scowl. "Cassie, do you think you're so smart?" I silently glanced at the hidden camera I had installed in the corner of the kitchen and said nothing. She was too young. She didn't understand that in my line of work, keeping receipts and evidence was everything. The very next day after this apartment was transferred to my name, I had installed 360-degree hidden cameras in every corner. Seeing my silence, Chloe’s arrogance grew. "I know you chased away a lot of his exes, but so what?" "In the end, I’m the one who's going to marry him and become Mrs. Vance." "Cassie, do you hate me?" I calmly turned off the stove. "Yeah, I do." Startled by my blunt confession, Chloe blinked. I raised my voice slightly, making sure the camera captured every word clearly. "He hates anything sour. Put extra honey in his hangover tea." "He prefers strawberry-scented, ultra-thin condoms. And his favorite position is—" Chloe's face grew uglier with every word. My tone, however, dropped into a perfectly tragic sadness: "Future Mrs. Vance, please take good care of him from now on." Hearing the shower stop, I poured the hot tea into a bowl and handed it to her. In that exact split second, Chloe’s expression warped. She reached out and violently grabbed my wrist! In the scuffle, she threw herself heavily onto the floor, letting out a sharp, pathetic scream. Under her force, the boiling hot tea splashed entirely onto my arm! Heavy footsteps rushed in. Carter ran into the kitchen, his brow furrowed. My arm felt like it was on fire. The blistering pain set in instantly. At this very moment, I desperately wanted to know. Between a five-year relationship and a girl he had known for less than two months... Who would he choose? The next second, Carter scooped Chloe up in his arms, his face written with pure worry. He looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes. "Cassie, have I spoiled you so much over these years..." "...that you’ve completely forgotten your place and started acting like a monster?" But Chloe hadn't even said a word yet. My fantasy of pulling out the camera footage and exposing her frame-job suddenly felt incredibly pathetic. Because she didn't have to say anything. Carter just chose to believe her. I felt incredibly ridiculous, so I actually laughed out loud, even as tears silently spilled from the corners of my eyes. "Yeah. I forgot my place." "It won't happen again." Because, at this very moment, I decided I didn't want a "next time" anymore.
A flicker of some unreadable emotion crossed Carter’s eyes. He didn't reply. He carried Chloe out to tend to her leg, which was barely even bruised. It was as if he didn't even see the massive, horrific red burn spreading across my arm. I let out a soft sigh. Young girls really don't know how to control their strength. Thank god I turned off the heat early. Yet, I didn't know why this hot soup felt like it had been poured directly onto my heart. It burned, and it ached. After cleaning up the kitchen, there was a knock on the door. It was Carter’s assistant, delivering medicine. The expensive burn ointments in his hand were hard to miss. I instinctively reached out, but the assistant pulled them back awkwardly. "I’m sorry, Miss Cassie. These are all for Miss Chloe." "Mr. Vance said Miss Chloe was splashed by the soup and needs to prevent scarring." I pulled my hand back, embarrassed. "Oh. My bad. Go on in." Back in my temporary bedroom, I grabbed my phone and sent a confirmation message to the real estate agent. The apartment was gone, the car would be sold tomorrow. There was nothing left for me in this city. I sent a message to the study-abroad agency I had consulted a long time ago. My budget was high, so they confirmed my application almost instantly. Throughout my entire college life, I was constantly running after money. I had never actually experienced the freedom of being a carefree student. I had almost forgotten that I was still young. I could still live for myself. The next morning, I was jolted awake by a sharp, agonizing pain in my scalp! I forced my eyes open. My biological father’s nightmarish face was hovering right in front of me, more terrifying than any ghost. He was violently dragging me up by my hair. "You little bitch! I wondered where the hell you ran off to all these years!" "Turns out you’ve been whoring yourself out to some rich guy?! Have you no shame?!" I struggled in terror. The childhood trauma of almost being sold off to an old man rushed back instantly. "Let go of me!" As my mind cleared, I caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against the doorway. Instinctively, I cried out: "Carter! Help me..." But the next second, the billionaire calmly lit a cigarette. "Cassie, you made Chloe cry so bitterly. You need to learn a lesson." My father's face twisted into an even uglier sneer. "You stupid brat, how do you think I found you?" "You're so dirty now, I’d be embarrassed to even use you to pay off my debts!" Through the rising cigarette smoke, Carter’s face became blurry. I couldn't tell if the brief flash of pity on his face was just my imagination. Chloe poked her head out from behind Carter. "Cassie, no matter what, you can't just abandon your own father." "I went to a lot of trouble to track your dad down for you, you know." With that, the door slammed shut. In that moment of absolute despair, I reached under my pillow and pulled out a long kitchen knife I had hidden there. Just like in the countless nightmares I had over the years, I pressed the sharp blade hard against my father's throat. The man’s eyes widened in sheer terror. His body, withered from years of alcohol and smoking, was no match for my physically fit body, which I had trained for years just for this day. By the time the police dragged him away, a sudden realization hit me. The "home" I had searched for, the warmth I had clung to, the nightmare I had run from... They were all nothing but a joke. That very night, I boarded a one-way flight to New York. But I left Carter a parting gift. I had uploaded the kitchen camera footage to his smart TV stream, and laid out all the background info on Chloe—which I had paid a private investigator to dig up—right on his coffee table. Looking at the paused TV screen in the living room, Carter froze, his finger hovering over the play button. Next to him, Chloe shrieked, "No! Don't watch it!"
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