Jordyn’s face darkened when she saw the gifts I had sent—each worth tens or even hundreds of thousands.

She yanked my wrist and snapped, “I don’t believe any of this is real! Don’t you dare leave—wait until I’ve had everything verified. I won’t be labeled as someone who bullies others!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I calmly pulled my arm free.

“Everything I gave you is authentic. And I expect the items you return to be just as real.”

With that, I walked away without looking back.

I figured once she opened those gift boxes and saw the labels for herself, she would realize just how ridiculously wrong she had been.

But instead, she blew up my phone with back-to-back calls in the middle of the night.

When I didn’t answer, she lost it completely—sending dozens of 60-second voice messages filled with rage.

“Wayne! What the hell did you do behind my back?! How else could you afford all this?!”

She demanded answers, obsessively chasing down the truth.

Obviously, she had already confirmed everything I gave her was genuine.

And now that she couldn’t deny it, she was trying to turn the tables.

I shut off my phone and went to sleep.

But the next morning, when I turned it back on, it was like the sky had fallen.

Jordyn had gone nuclear—she posted our story online, framing me as a gold-digging scammer.

With my photo in hand, she went on a public hunt, looking for the “wealthy sugar mommy” who was supposedly bankrolling me.

In no time, I became the number one trending topic online—the infamous “kept man” everyone wanted to spit on.

My name, ID, phone number, even my address were dug up and plastered all over the internet.

My phone nearly exploded from the flood of hate messages.

But it didn’t stop there.

Somehow, my photo and number ended up on shady adult sites. The comments were disgusting.

Even worse, someone photoshopped my face onto naked male models and listed the images for sale—9.9 per download, complete with the tagline: [Guaranteed satisfaction or your money back.]

I didn’t hesitate—I went straight to the police.

But despite their best efforts, they couldn’t track the original source.

And because the incident had gone so viral, shutting down one shady site only caused the photos to spread to others like wildfire.

Even though I knew the images were fake, the whole thing made me feel sick to my core.

There was no doubt in my mind—this was all Jordyn’s doing.

Disgusted, I forced myself to call her.

But she’d vanished.

Before disappearing, though, she made sure to finish what she started—pulling every string she had in the industry to blacklist me.

Every résumé I sent out disappeared into a black hole. Not a single interview. Not a single call back.

At the same time, Jordyn was flaunting Garrett all over the place, taking him to high-profile events, business banquets, and media appearances.

On social media, Garrett even posted a photo of his new limited-edition sports car with the caption.

[Forever touched by the kindness of my sweet childhood love~”]

The location tagged was an exclusive private members-only club.

Jordyn commented below.

[Baby, you deserve only the best.]

That same night, I got a text from her.

[Wayne, if you want to keep living comfortably, pay back the five hundred thousand first. Then sign a contract agreeing to be my kept man and loyal lapdog.]

[As long as you behave and don’t start drama with Garrett, I’ll take care of you for life. Otherwise, forget about ever finding a job again.”]

I stared at the screen—and suddenly laughed.

Did Jordyn really think she could buy me?

Did she really believe that, with my background and capabilities, she was doing me a favor by “keeping” me?

The arrogance was almost amusing.

I didn’t bother arguing. I replied with a single word.

[Scram.]

I thought that would be the end of it.

But that night, Jordyn showed up at my apartment—with four bodyguards.

I was in the study, admiring a newly acquired antique blue-and-white porcelain vase, when the doorbell started ringing like an air raid siren.

I checked the security monitor—and there she was.

Her expression stormy, her arms crossed.

Behind her stood four men in black suits, radiating aggression.

"Wayne, I know you're home!"

"If you don’t open this door, I’ll have them break the lock!"

True to her word, Jordyn did what she said.

But I was already planning to confront her about the filthy rumors she had spread, so I switched on the monitor, got up, and walked to the door.

As soon as I cracked it open, Jordyn shoved her way inside with so much force that I stumbled backward and hit the ground.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the pain in my palm, and stared at her coldly as she barged in like some kind of thug.

“Finally done hiding?” she sneered, her gaze sweeping over the jade ornaments and authentic paintings adorning my living room. The more she saw, the darker her expression became.

“No wonder you never let me upstairs. You were hiding all this filth the whole time.”

I crossed my arms, silent.

She strode over to the desk, picked up the blue-and-white porcelain vase I hadn’t yet had time to put away, and scoffed.

"Looks like a decent replica—but a fake’s still a fake."

Then she pointed at the ink-wash landscape on the wall.

"And that? Probably five dollars at a street market."

I clapped slowly, amused.

“Excellent eye, Miss Ortiz.”

That painting was, in fact, the only fake in the house—a copy I had done in middle school of a master’s work. My mother insisted on treating it like a treasure and hung it right between two genuine pieces.

Jordyn clearly thought I was mocking her. Her expression turned venomous as she snatched a document from her assistant and slapped it onto the coffee table.

“Sign this. I’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars a month.”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the contract. It was packed with clauses.

One of them clearly stated I would “willingly serve her and her future husband,” with no right to personal freedom.

What was this?

A slave contract?

Without hesitation, I tore it in half.

But she was unfazed, almost as if she’d expected it. Calmly, she handed over another copy.

“Rip all you want. I’ve got plenty more.” She shrugged. “But I hope you understand one thing—your going rate online is 99.9 dollars a night. Not even a full hundred.”

"I can’t imagine how many clients you’d need to serve just to make ten grand a month."

"Right now, your reputation is in the gutter. If it weren’t for our past, do you really think anyone else would’ve bothered with you?"

When I didn’t immediately rip the second contract, she stepped closer, pinched my chin between her fingers, and said with a smirk, “You love money, don’t you? If you sign this, I’ll buy you the real versions of all these little counterfeits.”

She gestured around the room, clearly confident in her delusion.

I burst out laughing.

I might not know everything about the Ortiz family’s assets, but I knew enough. Even one piece in my house could spark a bidding war.

And she had the audacity to claim she could “buy me the real ones.”

Just as I was about to speak, one of her bodyguards suddenly murmured behind her.

“Miss Ortiz, this porcelain vase looks familiar... isn’t it the centerpiece from that recent Sotheby’s auction?”

Jordyn froze, then picked the blue-and-white porcelain back up, inspecting it more closely.

That vase was a birthday gift from my mother just half a month ago—acquired at Sotheby’s for one hundred twenty million.

I watched as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Clearly, she was beginning to suspect the truth.

“No way... It can’t be. It has to be a high-end knockoff!”

But then, as if remembering the fact that everything I’d ever gifted her was authentic, her expression faltered. She forced a laugh and said awkwardly,

“Where did you steal this from, Wayne? Or did you sweet-talk some naive rich woman into giving it to you?”

She narrowed her eyes and added sharply, “If I remember correctly, the person who bought this piece was old enough to be your mother...”

I met her scornful gaze with indifference and said flatly, “You guessed right. She is my mother. She gave it to me to use as a vase.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” I said coldly, “take down everything you posted online—before my mother finds out. Otherwise, you won’t be able to handle the consequences.”

Jordyn burst out laughing, doubled over as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Wayne, do you even hear yourself?” she sneered. “Look at your pathetic self. I was the only one who didn’t mind slumming it with you, and now you’re dreaming of having a woman like that as your mother? Please. Even if you stripped naked and offered yourself to her, she wouldn’t spare you a glance.”

“And if I remember right, that woman is the most elusive billionaire in the capital—more myth than reality.”

At that point, I saw no reason to keep hiding it.

“You remembered correctly,” I said. “She is my mother.”

Her smile froze on her face.

One of her bodyguards gasped and whispered, “Miss Ortiz, maybe... Maybe this is all a misunderstanding. That porcelain piece... it really does look authentic.”

Jordyn’s face turned ashen. Still trying to keep control, she whipped out her phone and started recording a video of the porcelain vase before sending it to Garrett.

“Garrett, doesn’t your brother work at Sotheby’s? Ask him if this blue-and-white vase is the centerpiece item from that auction—the one that made headlines.”

“Oh, and bring the top lawyer I hired. We’re at Wayne’s house. I don’t care what it takes—today, I’ll make him admit he leeched off me. I refuse to believe I can’t break this lapdog!”

If she was begging to be humiliated, I was more than happy to oblige.

Ten minutes later, Garrett arrived with the lawyer in tow.

“Jordyn,” he said with forced solemnity, “my brother looked into it. That vase was really bought at the Sotheby’s auction—by the richest woman in the capital. Apparently, it was a birthday gift for her son. She said he could just… use it as a flower vase.”

“Oh, and my brother also said her son has his own private museum. It’s full of priceless antiques and rare treasures.”

Jordyn’s face twisted into a cold smile, as if she’d just caught me in a lie.

Turning to me with a mocking sneer, she said, “Don’t tell me this place is supposed to be that private museum.”

I nodded seriously.

Every single artifact in the display cases around us was fitted with a state-of-the-art security system my mother had personally installed.

Well—except for the vase on the table.

Before I could explain, Garrett suddenly picked up the porcelain vase and started examining it with exaggerated care.

A wave of unease washed over me.

I rushed forward to stop him—but he fumbled it on purpose.

Crash!

The sharp, brittle sound echoed through the room as the one hundred twenty million dollar vase shattered into dozens of glittering shards across the floor.

My pupils dilated. My chest tightened like a fist was crushing my heart.

That vase was a once-in-a-lifetime artifact—something my mother had won at auction just to celebrate my birthday.

The only one of its kind in the world.

“Are you hurt, Garrett?!”

Jordyn didn’t care about the priceless vase.

She rushed straight to him, eyes filled with concern, because a sliver of ceramic had grazed his leg, leaving a paper-thin scratch.

Garrett’s eyes turned red with tears as he played the victim.

“I’m okay, Jordyn... I just couldn’t stand him lying like this. Pretending to be the billionaire’s son—he’s still trying to trick you.”

Jordyn hugged him and glared at me.

“Apologize to Garrett! Your cheap knockoff injured him. If you don’t, I’ll report you for intentional assault!”

Rage erupted in my chest.

I raised my hand and slapped Garrett across the face—hard.

“You smashed my property and dared to slander me? You want to see what a real assault looks like?”

Jordyn lost it.

She kicked me hard, knocking me to the ground.

Shards of porcelain tore open my palm, but I didn’t even flinch.

She glanced at Garrett’s swollen cheek, still furious, and turned to start destroying the rest of my collection.

But the moment she touched one of the genuine antiques, the security system activated.

A surge of electricity crackled through her body—zapping her so hard she collapsed to the floor in spasms.

She stared at me, wide-eyed and breathless.

“Wayne... Are you insane?! Using a high-end security system... on a bunch of fake junk?!”