At the freshman welcome party, Clara Dorne, the show-off girl decked out in designer labels, boasted that her brother had donated two buildings to the school just for her.

Instantly, a crowd of classmates swarmed around her, eager to cozy up.

I glanced at my brother, Jason Caldwell, hooked under my arm and asked with a forced smile, "When did you get yourself a sister behind my back?"

"Sorry, Grace Caldwell," Jason lowered his head, his eyes looking pitiful. "I got tricked in an online romance!"

Under my relentless questioning, Jason recounted his online dating saga. The show-off girl, Clara Dorne, had a sweet, soft voice online. Jason was ensnared by her brother's honeyed words and entered into an online relationship.

Jason bought her bags and flowers without batting an eye. But when they finally met in person, he realized all of Clara’s photos had been heavily edited.

"I didn't know how to refuse. I was dumbfounded. She threw another person’s image at me," Jason maintained his usual nonchalant demeanor. "You know I'm bad at rejecting people, but with how she looked, I couldn’t bring myself to... I just told her I already had a girlfriend."

"And then you let her be your sister?"

I disdainfully let go of Jason’s arm.

"Clara was relentless. Please, Grace, don't abandon me," Jason pleaded, reaching to hold my hand again as I pushed him away in disgust.

"An idiot brother can be discarded."

Jason Caldwell, my brother, was back on campus as one of the top ten successful alumni. Principal Levi Hollis planned to honor Jason in front of everyone for donating two buildings to the school.

Since it was the welcome party, I had to attend too. But it wasn't some commercial event, so I dressed casually. Jason asked me to come along.

I agreed. But after hearing his online romance story, I thought he was too stupid.

"Stay away from me, go have fun by yourself." I looked at Jason with disdain, maintaining some distance.

Jason wanted to say more, but then a soft voice called from a distance.

"Jason!"

Goosebumps prickled all over my skin. Clara pushed through the students who were talking to her, ran over with tiny steps, and shoved me aside.

"Jason, I knew you'd come." Clara stood in front of Jason, blushing.

I moved behind Clara, mouthed "Good luck" to Jason, and ignored his pleading eyes, heading off to grab some fruit.

Sitting leisurely on the sofa, I watched the show-off girl Clara pestering Jason while munching on fruit. I recorded the scene, planning to use the evidence to mock Jason later.

Jason used every trick he knew to resist Clara, but she seemed oblivious. Finally, Principal Levi called him on stage to speak, giving him a moment’s reprieve.

When Jason finished speaking, everyone applauded. I clapped the loudest. Someone nudged me disdainfully. Turning, I saw it was Clara.

She glared at me, pushed past, and walked forward holding a bouquet. As Jason stepped off the stage, Clara handed him the flowers with a smile.

I laughed, watching Jason's helpless expression. Levi descended too, chatting with Jason and assuring him that Clara would be well looked after at the school.

"Do you like Jason too?" someone beside me asked. I turned to see a guy standing with his hands in his pockets.

"Who doesn't like a rich guy?" I teased. He’s my brother; of course, I like him.

"I have money too," he said. His name was Wesley Farrar, a senior.

Jason had just graduated not long ago.

"Jason is a player. You won't be able to handle him," Wesley remarked.

"So what? As long as he's rich," I replied. After all, those women only care about Jason's money, and as long as he's wealthy, it's fine with me.

"Well, I have money too. Why don't you stay with me instead?" Wesley coughed into his fist, his ears visibly reddening.

"Oh? How much money are we talking? Compared to Jason?"

"A similar amount," Wesley admitted, laying his cards on the table.

"In that case, sure."

"Let's exchange contact information first." Wesley took out his phone and opened WhatsApp.

"Since you're so wealthy, why don't you use your money to get my contact information?" I smiled at him and walked away, leaving him standing there.

What a lunatic.

I didn’t mention this little episode to Jason, who was too busy fending off Clara’s advances.

When I returned to the dorm, I finally met my new roommate. Because I checked in a bit late, no one was around when I arrived.

"Hi, I’m Isabelle Grayson. What's your name?"

The girl in the bed next to mine was cheerful and lively, taking my hand and introducing herself as soon as she saw me.

"Grace Caldwell."

I responded warmly.

"Did you hear? That show-off girl from the freshman orientation, she’s in our dorm too. It’s so annoying," Isabelle complained, sitting next to me.

"Clara Dorne?"

"Yeah, that's her name." Isabelle nodded eagerly. "She brags about donating two buildings like it’s a big deal. My brother has donated more than that. Who cares?"

I nodded along, but I didn’t dare mention that Jason's two buildings were actually donated by my dad in his name, to make my college life a bit better. Unfortunately, the credit went to Clara.

Just as we were speaking, the door opened, and in walked Clara with another roommate.

The other roommate was Felicity Loring. Judging by the bags she was carrying, she seemed to have become Clara's henchwoman, probably just returning from a shopping spree.

"Oh, everyone’s here." Clara found her bed and sat down. Felicity immediately set down the bags and poured her a glass of water.

Isabelle and I exchanged knowing looks.

"All these are gifts from my brother. Take anything you like," Clara said, pointing to the LV bags and flaunting her freshly done nails.

"Who cares?" Isabelle muttered, clearly annoyed.

"Listen, don’t be so stubborn about this. My brother donated two buildings to this school for me. You know Jason, the guy who was on stage today with Levi?" Clara sneered.

"Yes, we know," I thought, barely containing my irritation.

I'm Jason's real sister and haven’t said a word, yet this imposter goes on and on.

"Good. Jason is my brother. Don’t even think about trying to get close to him. He already has a girlfriend. I saw you hanging around him today. Hoping to snag a rich guy, are you? Well, let me give you some advice. Give up. I'll let it slide this time." Clara crossed her arms and looked me up and down.

"You dress so poorly," she remarked disdainfully.

I rolled my eyes and ignored her.

We were all majoring in fashion design, and Isabelle added me to the class group chat.

"That show-off girl talks nine times out of ten in the group, but I didn’t want you to miss any class info," Isabelle said, griping.

"Why is there an extra person?" Class advisor Leona Piers questioned in the group.

I had just joined; was I already causing a stir?

"Hello, I'm a freshman majoring in fashion design, Grace."

"But the first-year fashion design list has only 31 names, now it's 32." Leona sighed. "Everyone, update your nicknames in the group."

Just as I changed my nickname, I noticed the group number drop by one.

Then, a friend request notification appeared on my screen.

The friend request read, "See that? I'm rich."

I ignored him. What a lunatic.

I logged into my other Instagram account, where my last chat with a mutual friend had stopped two days ago.

"I think I like a girl, but I don't know how to woo her."

Ah, that's my area of expertise. Jason's had too many ex-girlfriends to count, all thanks to his wealth.

"Are you rich?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Then spoil her."

"Won't that count as harassment?"

"I'm not saying you should physically throw money at her! Spend on her, show her you have money. Get it?"

"Kinda."

I passed on Jason's playboy tactics, but after dealing with Wesley, I began to doubt it.

I stared at the chat window for a long time, unsure of what to say next. He messaged me first.

"Your method isn’t working."

"How is it not working?" I was on the verge of tears, probably led someone astray with Jason's playboy tactics.

"The girl doesn't seem interested. She wouldn't even add me on Instagram."

"Maybe... just maybe, our approach was too aggressive. How about we try a different strategy?"

"What should I do then?"

"Take it slow. Create chances to 'coincidentally' meet her. Over time, she might feel a connection."

After a long pause, he replied, "Got it."

Good, as long as he got it. Thankfully, he didn't blame me.

Jason isn’t reliable either.

I sighed in relief and prepared for bed, only to hear Clara on a call.

"Jason, I miss you."

"Mm, I know. How about you buy me a bag? We could meet next week."

"Thanks, Jason. You're the best."

Her voice was so sugary that it gave me chills, especially in this 90-degree weather.

Clara became class president without even campaigning.

On the first day of class, we had to pick up textbooks. Clara eyed Isabelle and me.

"Grace and Isabelle, and you guys, go get the textbooks."

Leona wasn't there, and our classmates exchanged looks, wondering if Isabelle and I had offended Clara.

We stayed put while the boys started moving. They all looked rather scrawny.

"How can you ignore class duties on the first day?" Clara rapped her knuckles on the desk, glaring at Isabelle and me.

"We’ll help. Why wouldn’t we?" Isabelle spoke up, smiling sweetly at the remaining boys in class.

"We can't carry them. If you guys help us with the books, I’ll treat you to steak for a week." Isabelle imitated Clara's coy tone perfectly.

But she did it more naturally.

Isabelle, without missing a beat, sent out several big red envelopes in the group chat.

The boys were quick to jump up, eager to help.

I recognized one of them as a guy Clara was rumored to have a thing with.

Clara’s face turned green with envy.

Isabelle thanked them gracefully and whispered to me, "Clara's way of being coy really works."

I thought your money worked better.

Ignoring Clara, I gave Isabelle a thumbs up. "Nice."

Thankfully, Clara didn’t stir up trouble that day.

The dorm's internet was too slow, so I decided to hit an internet cafe in the evening.

Just as I stepped out of the campus gate, Wesley nearly hit me with his Porsche.

"What a coincidence," Wesley greeted from the driver's seat.

"Nearly ran me over and you call it a coincidence?" I rolled my eyes. "Compensation for emotional distress, please."

I extended my hand, pretending to demand payment.

Men would usually be put off by girls who always talk about money, right?