I’m very rich. My dad always says there’s no problem in this world that money can’t solve. And if there is, it just means you don’t have enough of it. But my boyfriend Damien Hayes is an exception. When I pick him up in my sports car, he complains I’m too flashy. When I take him to Michelin-starred restaurants, he says I’m wasteful. To “toughen me up,” he forces me to live like an ordinary student. For three years, I’ve worn thrift store clothes, squeezed onto subways with him, and eaten the cheapest meals on campus—only to face his endless criticism anyway. This time, to celebrate his scholarship award, I secretly booked a slightly nicer restaurant. I never expected him to publicly scold me for being “incorrigible.” When he threatens to break up with me yet again, demanding I apologize for the sake of his ridiculous pride, I’m exhausted. “Then let’s break up!” I say decisively. Hearing my response, Damien pauses mid-slice through his steak, then lets out a contemptuous laugh. “Vivian, are you serious?” He clearly doesn’t take my words seriously. After all, for three years, whenever we’ve disagreed over spending, it’s always ended with me compromising. I’ve cried while returning limited edition bags I just bought, sworn never to eat a meal costing over two hundred dollars again—all just to get him to take back that cold, dismissive “let’s break up.” But this time, I’m truly done. A while back, when the class president hinted that I’d be receiving financial aid for underprivileged students and told me not to worry, I suddenly realized what a joke I’d become. The heiress of the Hayes Group, reduced to dust for Damien’s sake. I lift my head and look him straight in the eye, repeating myself. “Damien, I’m serious. We’re breaking up.” A rare flash of confusion crosses Damien’s face. When he realizes what I’ve said, his voice turns ice-cold. “Because I won’t let you waste money? Because I criticized you a few times, you’re going to make a scene?” “Vivian, I made you take the subway and eat street food to cure you of your spoiled, privileged attitude—to teach you to be down-to-earth. Your attitude right now is extremely disappointing.” If this were before, hearing the word “disappointing” would have sent me into a panic. But now I just find it laughable. “Yes, I’m quite disappointing. Since that’s the case, let’s part on good terms. You can find a girlfriend who suits you better—everyone wins.” I think I’m being perfectly reasonable. Since our values don’t align, we might as well separate amicably. The designer watches and sneakers I’ve given him over the years were worth at least several million dollars, but I don’t plan to make an issue of it. Damien, however, turns red with anger and suddenly stands up. “I always thought you were just a bit spoiled. I never imagined you’d be so stubborn—now you’re actually threatening me with a breakup.” “I’m only saying this for your own good. Sure, your family has money, but did you earn a single cent of it? I’m teaching you not to squander your parents’ hard-earned money. If you had even one-tenth of Lydia’s frugality and simplicity, I wouldn’t have to lecture you constantly.” I can’t help but roll my eyes. He’s the one who brought up breaking up—I’m just agreeing—yet somehow I’m the one threatening him. I give him a cold look. “Since you think Lydia is so frugal and simple, why don’t you go after her? Why do we need to make things difficult for each other?” Lydia Monroe is Damien’s junior in his department. Ever since she enrolled, Damien has constantly compared me to her. Even taking me to street stalls and making me squeeze onto trains during rush hour were Lydia’s suggestions—supposedly to “help rid me of my extravagant airs.” I never wanted any of it. At the mention of Lydia, Damien reacts like a cat whose tail has been stepped on—he explodes. He grabs his backpack violently, scraping his chair with a harsh screech that makes several nearby diners turn to look. “Vivian, you’re completely unreasonable!” “Think about what you’ve done over this meal. When you’ve written a five-thousand-word reflection and recognized your own vanity, then come find me.” With that, he storms off without looking back. This is the first time I’ve seen Damien this angry. He’s known on campus as the aloof genius student, while I’m the airheaded rich girl with no brains. Back then, it was only because my dad donated a building to the school that I got in through the back door. When I first arrived on campus, all I wanted was a sweet romance, and I happened to set my sights on Damien in the crowd. We’re supposedly dating, yet he criticizes everything about me. I feel wronged too—it’s not my fault my family has money, and being born wealthy is a gift from my parents. But he treats it like original sin, constantly belittling and suppressing me. For three years, I’ve walked on eggshells around him, terrified of accidentally displaying wealth and upsetting him. I thought his noble disdain for money was a rare quality. Now I see clearly—it’s just arrogance born from extreme insecurity. By attacking my lifestyle, he gains a sense of psychological superiority. I’ve had enough of this. I pull out my phone and send my dad a message on SnapChat. “Dad, about that suggestion from before—I agree.” For three years, I’ve fought with my dad constantly over Damien. A while back, Dad carefully asked if I wanted to meet the Shaw family’s son who’d returned from abroad, saying he’d decline if I didn’t want to. Back then, I was all about freedom in love. Looking back now, I was adorably stupid. Rather than lowering myself and still being criticized constantly, I might as well find someone from a matching background—at least we’d share the same values and wouldn’t fight over a few hundred dollars for a meal.
My dad’s efficiency is terrifying. Early the next morning, I receive detailed information about Austin Shaw, along with an invitation to a charity gala. Immediately after, my banking app pings with a deposit notification. A string of zeros so long I can’t count them, with Dad’s message simple and direct: Buy whatever you want. Having shed the mental burden named “Damien,” the first thing I do is call the housekeeper and point to my closet full of pilled hoodies and nine-dollar jeans bought in bulk—all “high-value purchases” Damien forced me to buy over three years to “build my character.” “Throw it all away.” For three years, Damien subjected me to comprehensive “poverty transformation.” If I wore anything slightly expensive, he called me “materialistic.” If I put on makeup, he said I looked “gaudy.” Even when I took a cab to school, he’d furrow his brow and say with pained disappointment that I was “spoiled.” Afraid of making him angry, I tried to please him constantly, forcibly transforming myself from “Miss Hayes” into a “poverty case student.” But now? This young lady is done serving him. I change into a limited-edition Chanel suit and put on the sapphire necklace that’s been gathering dust in my jewelry box for three years. Looking at my radiant reflection in the mirror, I smile with satisfaction. After three years, the pink sports car I’d left to collect dust in the garage finally sees daylight again. The roar of the engine explodes at the school gate, instantly drawing countless eyes. “Vivian!” It’s Damien! My heart jumps and I want to flee. In the past, whenever I displayed wealth, Damien would punish me with thousand-word essays or give me the cold shoulder for days. But then I think—we’ve broken up. Why should I fear him? While I’m hesitating, Damien has already strode over, with Lydia following behind him, struggling under an armful of books and gasping for breath. His gaze sweeps over my eye-catching car and outfit, as if I’m some bloodsucking capitalist exploiter. “Are you insane? Dressed like this, driving this kind of car to school?” “Everyone walks or bikes here, and you show up in this thing—afraid people won’t know you have money? This behavior will corrupt the school atmosphere!” I almost laugh with anger. Just as I’m about to retort, I catch sight of Lydia behind him. “I didn’t steal or rob anyone. What do I have to fear?” I raise an eyebrow and look pointedly at the two of them. “The school rules don’t forbid dating, and they don’t forbid driving to school, right?” Hearing this, Damien’s face darkens further. “What are you talking about?!” Lydia also peeks out from behind her stack of books, looking timid. “You’ve misunderstood. He was just helping me because the books were too heavy… I didn’t expect you’d think that.” “Have you made enough of a scene?” He suddenly reaches out and grabs my wrist, his grip so tight it feels like he’ll crush my bones. “Since we’ve run into each other, help Lydia carry these books to the office and cure yourself of that lazy disease!” My wrist throbs with pain. I struggle desperately. “I won’t! Damien, let go! We’ve already broken up—why should I listen to you?!”
“Vivian, this is an order! I’m the student council president, which gives me the authority to correct this kind of toxic behavior!” Damien doesn’t relent at my resistance. Instead, he adopts an official tone and tries to force the heavy stack of books into my arms. I shake off his hand and rub my reddened wrist, letting out a cold laugh without holding back. “Student council president? Damien, do you really think you became president on your own merit?” “If my dad hadn’t spoken to the administration and donated fifty million dollars, how could someone with your abilities back then have beaten all those more qualified candidates for the position?” Damien’s face turns deathly pale, as if he’s been slapped in public. His lips tremble but before he can respond— Lydia suddenly rushes forward like she’s lost her mind. “Shut up! Don’t you dare slander him like that!” Before I can react, she shoves me hard. Completely unprepared and standing in stilettos, I lose my balance and fall heavily onto the concrete. “Ah—” A burning pain shoots through my palms instantly. Looking down, I see my hands scraped raw against the rough pavement, blood and grit oozing out—it hurts like hell. The sapphire necklace falls to the ground, and Lydia steps on it. Before I can get up, she’s already spoken first. Looking down at me from above, a flash of gloating crosses her eyes, but her voice carries a sob as she shouts. “Vivian! How can you do this? You’re the one who changed your heart, yet you’re publicly destroying his reputation!” She points at my pink sports car and designer outfit behind me, her voice shrill and piercing, as if passing righteous judgment on me. “Everyone, judge for yourselves! Vivian used to only eat the cheapest food in the cafeteria—how could she suddenly afford a sports car worth hundreds of thousands overnight?” “Where did this money come from? Don’t you know in your heart? Do I need to tell everyone that you found yourself a sugar daddy?” “Damien just doesn’t want to watch you fall into degradation. He’s been trying to bring you back to the right path, but not only are you ungrateful—you’re biting back for the sake of temporary vanity!” This information bomb makes the crowd of onlookers explode instantly. Those curious gazes immediately turn to contempt, and whispers buzz in my ears like flies. “Oh my god, so she’s being kept…” “I knew it. How could someone who normally wears thrift store clothes suddenly get rich? She went that route.” “So shameless, showing off at the school gate. Her parents must be mortified.” Public opinion instantly shifts. Everyone believes Lydia’s lies. I’m shaking with anger, my nails digging into my flesh, but I can’t feel the pain. I can only stare at Damien. He’s the only person here who knows my true identity. Even if we’ve broken up, even if he hates me, as long as he tells the truth, this ridiculous rumor will fall apart. “Damien, say something!” I demand through clenched teeth, my eyes reddening. “Tell them—is my money dirty or not? Did I become like this for vanity?” Damien looks at me sitting disheveled on the ground, a flash of complicated struggle in his eyes. But he glances at the watching students around us, then at Lydia, who “defended him” by stepping forward. In the end, the shame of being exposed for riding a woman’s coattails defeats his conscience. He supports the “swaying” Lydia and sighs with seeming heartbreak, looking utterly disappointed in me. “Vivian, Lydia’s words may be crude, but she’s not wrong. Vanity is the most terrible poison in this world.” “Although we’ve broken up, I really don’t want to see you selling your soul and body for material things, making yourself so dirty.” “Take my advice—return the car, break it off with that person. It’s not too late to turn back now.”
In that moment, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. To protect his pitiful pride, he’s actually endorsing this despicable accusation and even pretending to care while labeling me as “kept.” With the student council president’s “personal confirmation,” the surrounding gazes completely change. Disgust, contempt, revulsion—as if looking at repulsive trash. “Quick, take photos and post them to the forum as a warning. This kind of person is a disgrace to our school!” Someone shouts, and several phones are shoved in my face, camera flashes blinding me. Some even start livestreaming, broadcasting to their viewers. “Everyone, look! This is the ‘luxury car girl’ who became some old man’s mistress for money. Her ex-boyfriend just exposed her and she even tried to hit people!” “People like this should be expelled! Absolutely disgusting!” Sitting on the ground, hearing words like “fallen,” “gold digger,” and “escort” pelting me like stones, I feel utterly absurd. Some people even rush forward trying to grab at me. “What are you all doing?! This looks like a riot!” A commanding shout cuts through the crowd. The watching students freeze as if someone hit pause, automatically parting to make way. The Dean of Students, face dark and hands behind his back, strides in. Seeing me disheveled on the ground and that eye-catching pink sports car, his brow furrows into a tight knot. “What’s going on? Who brought this kind of social pollution onto campus?” Before I can speak, Lydia, like a frightened little rabbit with red-rimmed eyes, rushes to report first. “Dean, thank goodness you’re here. She… she’s brought such disgrace to our school.” While speaking, she subtly points out my sports car to the dean. “Vivian, in her greed for pleasure, was not only kept by some old man off-campus—she brazenly drove this filthy car onto campus to show off.” “When Damien kindly advised her to reform, she not only refused to listen but tried to attack people.” This bucket of dirty water is poured flawlessly. It both confirms my “kept woman” status and clears herself and Damien completely. The dean’s face instantly turns black as a pot, his disgusted gaze cutting into me like knives. “Kept? Absolutely scandalous!” Ignoring the pain in my palms, I struggle up from the ground. “I wasn’t! This car was bought by my father, the money came from my family—there’s no old man at all!” “Lydia, you open your mouth and destroy someone’s reputation—where’s your proof?” I stare at her, trying to break free from this absurd accusation. But the surrounding crowd erupts in mocking laughter. “From your family? Vivian, at least make your lies believable.” “Exactly. Everyone knows you’ll argue with the cafeteria lady for half an hour over five dollars.” “If you were really a rich kid, would you wear thrift store hand-me-downs? Would you beg the class president for a few hundred dollars in financial aid?” The voices of doubt grow louder and louder. In their eyes, poverty is the brand I’ve worn for three years. The dean, hearing this, dismisses his last shred of doubt. He points at my nose, his finger trembling with anger. “Well, well! A century-old prestigious school has produced such a shameless student!” “Selling your body for vanity, showing no remorse, and openly promoting materialism at the school gate!” “Keeping this bad apple would be an insult to other students!” I’m freezing cold all over, desperately trying to explain. “I really didn’t—you can check my bank accounts…” “Enough! No need to check!” The dean waves his hand, impatiently cutting me off. “Everyone says so—could they all be wrong about you?” “Notify your parents. Get this eyesore of a car out of here immediately and pack your things!” “For the school’s reputation—Vivian, you’re expelled!”
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