New Phone, Sugar Daddy Rumors

On my birthday, my dad bought me the latest iPhone along with three thousand dollars in cash.

When my roommate saw it, she immediately accused me of being a sugar baby.

“Emily, I know you’re vain, but do your parents even realize how ashamed they’d be if they knew you were an escort?”

I didn’t bother arguing and threatened to call the police. She sneered that if I wasn’t afraid of the cops as a sugar baby, why would she be? But the moment the police actually showed up, she panicked.

That same day, my dad had gifted me the iPhone and the money as a birthday present. The moment I got back to Westbridge University, my roommate Jessica Miller rushed over and demanded,

“Emily Carter, that phone isn’t cheap. Are you hiding something shady from your family?”

“You’re so reckless. Do you know how devastated your family would be if they found out?”

Her voice was so theatrical that students from other dorms started peeking in.

Feeling irritated, I shot back, “It’s a birthday gift from my dad. Stop spreading lies.”

“Your real dad? Or your sugar daddy?” Jessica raised her voice so everyone could hear. “I’ve heard girls your age sometimes sell themselves just to keep up appearances. Don’t go down that road!”

I noticed a few students recording with their phones while she strutted around with her head high like a proud rooster.

Seeing my face darken, Jessica pressed harder:

“Emily, don’t act like you’re not busted. Whatever your reason is, you’d better cut ties with that sugar daddy before it ruins your future. No one will marry you otherwise.”

She spoke as if she were worried for me, and her performance drew in more onlookers.

“Emily, no way. I always thought you were just from a wealthy family because of your designer clothes. Turns out you’re making money like that?”

“Yeah, if you really are doing that, you should stop. A girl has to have self-respect.”

“Unbelievable. I thought that was just a rumor in college, but now I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Not only did they pile on me, but some even praised Jessica.

“Look at Jessica Miller. She came from a small town, works part-time in the campus cafeteria, and still manages to get by without being someone’s sugar baby.”

“Exactly. You can want nice things, but you can’t buy them with dirty money.”

The crowd grew louder, and a bad feeling welled up in my chest. Lies repeated often enough become truth. I couldn’t let this spiral further.

I raised my phone: “Since everyone’s so concerned, I’ll call the police right now. When they arrive, every one of you spreading rumors will pay for it.”

“Ha! Who’d believe you? A spoiled little girl like you. If you really call the cops, your sugar baby lifestyle will be exposed anyway.”

Jessica still refused to back down, so I sent a message to my best friend, asking her to call the police on my behalf. I didn’t dial myself because I worried Jessica would later deny everything.

When my friend sent back a simple “OK” emoji, I set my phone down.

That tiny action gave Jessica new ammo:

“See? She doesn’t dare call. Who even reports crimes through text? You’re bluffing. Want me to call for you?”

She waved her phone in triumph while people outside jeered:

“She looks so pure, but she’s actually disgusting.”

“Exactly.”

I ignored the noise and waited patiently for the police.

But while I stayed put, Jessica didn’t. She stormed over to my locker and yanked out a designer handbag.