"Mom, just send me one point five; three is too much," I said, sitting on my dorm bed during a video call with my mother, Elodie Quentin.

"It's fine, sweetie," Elodie replied, "I just sold some fish today and made five."

My roommate walked in just then, overhearing the conversation.

From that point on, she spread the word that I was just a fish seller's daughter.

She even told everyone that, despite my apparent wealth, I was struggling to make ends meet and that my tuition and living expenses were all funded by my parents' fish sales.

What she didn't know was that Elodie's "five" actually meant five million.

Elodie ran a seafood import-export business with hundreds of branches across the country, pulling in billions in net profit every year.

And my dad, Quentin, wasn't just any celebrity; he was a sought-after heartthrob and the hottest leading man in the entertainment industry.

——

As summer vacation approached, I sat on my dorm bed and called Elodie on video.

"Mom, just send me one point five; three is too much," I said.

Elodie, with a wide-brimmed hat and sweat beading her forehead, replied from the video, "Don't worry, Lillian, I just sold some fish today and made five."

Just as I was about to say more, my roommate, Jennifer Minogue, walked in, catching a glance at my phone. Her face twisted with disgust.

Since entering university, I'd dressed in high-end brands and even footed the bill for class outings. My classmates assumed I was a wealthy second-generation kid.

For this, I attracted a fair share of sycophants.

But I knew they were drawn not by who I was but by my wallet.

My roommate Jennifer harbored resentment towards me and even spread malicious rumors about me outside, suggesting my wealth was tainted, and some sugar daddy might have kept me.

However, what she didn't know was that I preferred to keep my profile low.

Elodie ran an import-export seafood business with hundreds of branches across the country, earning billions in net profit each year, with business interests spanning dozens of industry sectors.

Meanwhile, Osborne, the hottest leading man in the entertainment industry and a top male star in his prime, could charm the pants off teenagers with just his looks.

Elodie had mentioned sending me three million because I had my eye on a luxury yacht near the seaside campus. This was to be my reward after successfully entering college.

I had planned to reserve it during summer vacation and invite my classmates for a joyride.

Hence, Elodie sent the money early, as new luxury yachts required customization.

However, when I called, Elodie was enthusiastically trawling with fishermen, providing Jennifer the perfect opportunity to concoct stories about me.

She blithely spread rumors around school, dubbing me a fishmonger's daughter and accusing me of selling a fake upper-class image, labeling me shameless.

Soon, the story of my fishmonger heritage spread throughout campus, with discussions about the extent of my family's poverty, wondering how impoverished we must be to need to sell fish to cover tuition and living expenses.

"So, Lillian isn't the real deal. She looked so innocent, yet so fake," they'd say.

"Even her designer labels are fakes. She's so vain."

"Or maybe she's actually using genuine goods, just letting a sugar daddy foot the bill."

"So materialistic at such a young age, her mom selling fish for her education, and she's out there glomming onto sugar daddies."

After a period of time, I became synonymous with superficiality and avarice, the object of scorn and whispers in school.

Even a maliciously Photoshopped picture of me appeared on the school forum.

But I'd never been one to concern myself with such matters. Consequently, I remained ignorant of this popularity-gone-awry.

When I showed up for gym class, I noticed my classmates looking at me with strange expressions.

The teacher allowed us to form groups, but no one wanted to be paired with me.

Even the few girls who had been friendly with me now looked at me with disdain and disgust.

Confused, I grabbed one of the girls by the arm and asked, "What's going on? Why is everyone acting like this?"

As soon as I touched her arm, she screamed and shoved me away.

"Get away from me! I don't want to catch any of your dirty diseases from a girl like you who can't keep her dignity!"

Fury flared inside me. I was about to fire back when a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Lillian."

The voice belonged to my boyfriend, Lawson Pirelli, whom I'd been dating for a month.

I turned around with a smile, my anger subsiding a little.

But when I saw the look of disgust on Lawson's face, my smile froze.

Lawson was a year older than me. When I first started university, the upperclassmen rushed to help me with my luggage, all except Lawson, who stood aside with a cool indifference.

I noticed he was different from the rest.

After spending six months together, I realized I had feelings for him and confessed.

To my surprise, he moved past his previous aloofness and agreed to date me.

During our relationship, he was attentive and sweet, like any guy in the throes of new love.

But now, he was looking at me with such cold, contemptuous eyes as if I had committed a heinous crime.

I looked at Lawson, bewildered. Before I could ask what was wrong, he sneered and said in a mocking tone, "Lillian, I thought you were some rich girl, but it turns out it's all an act. You're even willing to sell yourself for money. I really misjudged you. I thought you were a pure and kind girl, but I guess I was blind. You've let me down."

Hearing those words, I almost laughed.

"Materialistic? How am I materialistic?

"If I were materialistic, would I even be with you?"

Though I had feelings for Lawson, Elodie had always disapproved of our relationship because Lawson came from a poor background. She wasn't being snobbish but rather worried that someone from a humble origin might not meet my expectations later on.

Despite her warnings, I was so infatuated that I insisted on being with him.

To preserve his pride, I paid for almost everything during our dates.

In the month we'd been together, I'd only had a cup of lemonade he bought and one meal from a street vendor, totaling fifty bucks.

His birthday gift to me was a handmade craft from a DIY kit he bought online.

At the time, I didn't see anything wrong with it. I was just touched by Lawson's efforts.

Although he was poor, he was ambitious and hardworking. I believed he'd have everything I had eventually, just not yet.

I never expected that the words my friend often joked about would turn out to be true. "Spending money on a man? Bad luck for three years. Feeling sorry for him? Bad luck for a lifetime."

Our confrontation quickly drew a crowd.

Glancing around, I saw my "good" roommate, Jennifer, among the spectators.

Her provocative stare, combined with the memory of a recent video call with my mom, suddenly made me understand why everyone had been looking at me strangely.

Seeing that I remained silent, Lawson sneered and continued with contempt, "How can you even claim you're not materialistic? If you weren't, why do you flaunt all these designer brands? You're broke, yet you're pretending to be some high-flying socialite."

"Your family might be just some smelly fishmongers, but here you are, acting like a big spender at school. Doesn't that make you sickening?

"Someone like you, wanting to stay with me? I must've been blind to agreeing with your confession and wasting so much time and effort. Just looking at you now makes me feel nauseated.

"The biggest regret of my life is agreeing to date you."

As I listened to Lawson's cruel words, my heart sank.

Regardless of whether the rumors were true, as my boyfriend, his first move should've been to stand by my side and uncover the truth, not to blindly side with gossip and join in the public shaming.

I thought, How did I ever fall for a man who lacked both trust and responsibility?

I felt like I must've been bewitched.

The crowd was overwhelmingly in Lawson's corner, including some friends who used to be close to me. Now, they seemed eager to see me humiliated.

They had once been my sycophants, eager to do anything for a scrap of my attention.

But now, when I faced trouble, they were quick to turn their backs, almost reveling in my misery.

It was true—trouble really did reveal the true nature of people.

Realizing this, I suddenly felt a sense of relief.

I looked at Lawson, his face twisted with anger, and emotionlessly pulled out my phone. I transferred him a hundred dollars.

"Lawson, let's break up. In the month we've been together, I've spent fifty bucks from you. I'm sending it all back now.

"To be honest, this amount is shit to me.

"You don't need to return the excess. Consider it a fee for cleaning up your filthy mouth. I hope you stay far away from me and don't bother me again."

Laughter erupted from the crowd behind me. Amid Lawson's stunned disbelief, I walked away with my head held high.

I didn't want to stay a second longer, afraid it might taint my eyes and ears.

As I was eating at the cafeteria for lunch, I overheard a few unfamiliar girls behind me whispering and pointing.

"She's such a broke loser, yet here she is pretending to be someone she's not. What a joke."

"Pretending to be rich and glamorous when she's clearly not. Now that the truth is out, let's see how she keeps up the charade."

At that moment, a few guys chimed in/

"Not necessarily. She might have some rich sugar daddy or something. That way, she can still pull off the rich girl image. Too bad for those clueless people who thought they were mingling with some high-class second-generation rich kid when she's just a broke nobody."

I calmly finished my meal and then went to the campus security office to review the cafeteria's surveillance footage.

If these people kept talking behind my back, I wouldn't mind having the cops invite them to the station for a little chat.

I was not one to stir up trouble, but I was also not afraid to handle it when it came my way.

Plus, sometimes, proving oneself wasn't the best way to deal with issues.

If I had to constantly clear my name whenever someone slandered me, I'd be exhausted.

After saving the surveillance footage, I went to pick up a few packages.

Just as I finished collecting them, I spotted Lawson standing outside the package station.

As soon as I saw him, I turned to leave, but of course, he stopped me.

It made sense. I had always been the one chasing after him.

He probably thought that after he blew up at me, I would be begging for his forgiveness. He never expected me to end things.

Realizing I couldn't escape, I rolled my eyes and said, "Lawson, what do you want now? Looking for me to return the handmade gift you gave me for my birthday? Don't worry, I'll dig it out and send it over with a courier."

It seemed like my words only fueled his anger further. "Lillian, you're such a bitch! You're still trying to act all high and mighty. Just wait, you'll be on your knees begging me to get back together. You..."

Before he could finish, I gave him a dismissive eye roll and slipped out the door of the package station.

It wasn't that I couldn't argue with him; I just couldn't be bothered. I'd much rather open my packages than waste my time with him.

Yet Lawson wasn't done. He continued to shout hysterically behind me. The person he was now was a far cry from the Lawson I met six months ago.

Maybe this was his true self after all.