I hesitated before handing him the thousand dollars.

"Take it. You can't let yourself starve."

Scott pushed my hand away. "No, I can't spend my girlfriend's money. Don't worry about me, Ellie. I'm fine."

Fine—yet his stomach growled loud enough to echo off the walls. I knew the truth: he was rationing himself to one meal a day, terrified of depleting his funds.

My heart ached. I untied the red ribbon from a gift apple and wrapped it around the cash.

"Consider this my Christmas present," I said, pressing it into his palm. "Please. Just take it."

Tears welled in his eyes. He pulled me close, voice trembling against my ear. "Ellie, I swear... one day, I'll give you the life you deserve."

That became our pattern. Whenever Scott hit a rough patch, I covered him. In return, he'd act profoundly moved, shower me with affection, and stack promises about our future like bricks in a house we'd never build.

For two years, our Christmases had been frugal. But this year was different.

His parents were visiting, and I'd just received an unexpected windfall—an inheritance so massive it made winning the lottery look like pocket change.

I couldn't wait to share the news. I went on a shopping spree and booked a suite at a luxury hotel. Our days of struggle were finally over.

Full of anticipation, I arrived at the upscale restaurant we'd always dreamed of but could never afford. I sat in my reserved booth, scrolling through my phone, waiting for Scott's message that he'd picked up his parents.

The message never came. The people did.

The Whitney family walked in—but they weren't alone.

A fourth person accompanied them. A young woman. My breath caught when I saw her outfit. She was wearing the exact clothes I'd ordered online weeks ago—a package the tracking service claimed had been lost.

She linked arms with my boyfriend, chatting and laughing with his parents like she belonged there.

My first instinct was to storm over and demand answers. But doubt held me back. What if I'm misunderstanding? I swallowed the rising bile and sank lower in my seat.

The hostess led them to the booth directly behind mine. Only a high-backed bench separated us.

"Mom, Dad, why'd you bring Fanny today?" Scott's voice drifted over, hushed but clear. "Didn't we agree you wouldn't come on Christmas? I still need to coax some money out of Eleanor."

I froze. Coax money?

His mother's voice followed, cheerful and unbothered. "What are you afraid of? We brought Fanny so she could stay here a few days." Her tone sharpened. "Besides, we need to talk sense into you. Do not fall for that woman. What kind of background does she have?"

"Exactly," his father scoffed. "Her adoptive parents raised her until eighteen and then washed their hands of her. Yet she still sends them money every month to 'repay their kindness.' Stupid. Fanny's different—her family runs a business. They have connections."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Scott replied, dismissive. "Someone who grew up in that kind of environment... who knows how twisted her psychology is? I could never marry her."

The words hit like a blow. The air left my lungs.

It was true. My biological parents had abandoned me. My adoptive family had two children of their own; they provided for me until eighteen but made clear their obligation ended there. I was grateful, so I never asked for support in college.

When I'd first told Scott about my past, his reaction had been entirely different.

I remembered the way he'd looked at me—eyes full of tender heartache. It's okay, he'd said. After we graduate, we'll get married. You'll have a family forever.

To an orphan like me, that promise was more intoxicating than any declaration of love. My adoptive parents had always been honest about their bias toward their own children. I respected them, but I never felt I truly belonged.

Scott had promised to fill that void.

Now, hearing him call me "twisted" while plotting to drain my account, I felt the illusion shatter.

Scott had always felt like a sanctuary to me.

That was why I had sacrificed so much—scrimping, saving, and suffering—just to keep him afloat. I truly believed I was building a future, cultivating a family of my own.

But the scene unfolding before me shattered that illusion.

"Just remember who really matters," Scott's mother lectured, her voice low. "Fanny has waited years for you. Once you grab that diploma, dump that city woman and come home to marry Fanny."

Scott hummed in agreement as the waiter approached. He ordered with abandon, pointing at the priciest dishes on the menu. When his parents advised frugality, he waved them off.

"Relax. I'm loaded."

Once the waiter retreated, Scott leaned in, his voice dripping with smugness I'd never heard before. "It's Christmas. Eleanor knows I send money home this time of year, so she wired me an extra thousand today."

His parents exchanged shocked glances. "How does she make that much?" his father asked, eyes narrowing. "Is she doing something dirty on the side? Looking at the photos you sent... she doesn't look like a decent girl."

Rage boiled in my gut. My hands trembled under the table.

I was the top student in my department, a recognized talent. Yet simply because I was attractive, they assumed I was selling my body?

"She's a top design student," Scott explained, though his tone lacked any real defense. "One sketch fetches a few thousand, easy."

A fair explanation—but his next words poured salt into the wound.

"Anyway, order whatever you want. Eleanor is usually too cheap to bring me to a place like this."

The restaurant was a popular spot near campus—mid-range for most, but a luxury I couldn't afford. Between maintaining my scholarship, freelance work, and sending money to my foster parents, every cent was accounted for. I starved myself to subsidize Scott.

And here he was, burning through my hard-earned cash to feed the very people plotting my downfall.

Bile rose in my throat.

I gripped my phone, staring at the notification from the notary office. The staggering inheritance was the only thing keeping me from flipping the table—a parting gift from my biological parents, divine intervention revealing Scott's true face before it was too late.

Just as I debated confronting him, his father spoke again, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"If that woman is so good at making money, squeeze her for more. Have you heard of those online loans? Use her information to take some out. Your brother needs tuition money, too."

Scott didn't object. Beside him, Fanny seized the moment, pressing against his arm.

"Scott," she whispered, sickeningly sweet. "Mom and Dad booked a hotel for us nearby. I... I'm ovulating right now."

Her shy admission clarified exactly what kind of people I was dealing with—archaic, feudal, morally bankrupt. And the fact that Scott didn't pull away meant he was exactly the same.

A twisted sense of gratitude washed over me. Thank god I was witnessing this today.

What will you do, Scott?

"We can talk about the breakup later," he said finally.

He hadn't rejected Fanny's obvious invitation. But his next sentence revealed a level of calculation that made my blood run cold.

"I've almost convinced Eleanor to sleep with me. Once I take her virginity, she'll be trapped. I'll string her along after graduation to keep the cash flowing. Even if you give birth to a son, Fanny, we'll need someone to pay for the formula. It's the most cost-effective way."

A chill settled deep in my bones.

I had never realized a human face could hide such rot.

I stared at the notary documents on my phone, the legal text blurring as laughter erupted from the next booth. They were already celebrating a future funded by my money.

A cold knot of hatred tightened in my chest.

Breaking up with Scott wasn't enough. I wanted restitution. I wanted to claw back every cent I'd wasted on him.

More than that, I wanted to ensure that once I was done with him, he'd never crawl out of the hole I dug.

I finished my meal in silence. Once the trio left, I paid and shadowed them into the night.

I watched from a distance as Scott and Fanny disappeared into a cheap motel near campus. The neon sign flickered ominously. It was the exact same place Scott had tried to lure me years ago.

The memory hit me, bitter and sharp.

Back then, Scott had just gotten paid from a part-time gig. He'd taken me to a KTV, where we sang until we missed curfew.

He'd gripped my hand outside this very motel, putting on his most earnest face. "Eleanor, I know it looks rough, but it's better than the street. We can make do for one night."

I'd hesitated, uncomfortable with the grime coating the windows.

Sensing my reluctance, he'd pivoted to the gentleman act. "I just want you to rest. I promise, no other intentions. You take the bed. I'll sit in the chair—or wait outside."

I was naive enough to believe he was just broke but trying. I couldn't bear the thought of him suffering, so I'd dragged him to a 24-hour internet café instead.

I spent that night reviewing notes under harsh fluorescent lights. Scott sat beside me gaming, but he kept glancing over, sighing. "El, if the chair's too hard, we can still go to the motel. I just want you comfortable."

I'd smiled, touched by his "concern." "It's fine, really. This gives me extra study time."

Looking back, I'd been such a fool. He hadn't been concerned about my comfort—he'd been frustrated his cheap plan to get me into bed had failed.

I shook off the past and checked my phone.

I wasn't going to an internet café tonight. I hailed a cab to the finest hotel in the district.

Lying on plush, high-thread-count sheets, a realization hit me.

My money should be for my enjoyment.

Scrimping to support a man was the height of stupidity.

I took a long, hot shower, scrubbing away the grime of the day. When I emerged wrapped in a fluffy robe, I checked my phone. Scott had blown it up.

I scrolled through the barrage of missed calls and texts.

Where are you?

I'm done with family stuff.

Let me take you shopping.

He was anxious. Good.

After letting him stew, I selected a screenshot I'd prepared—a partial view of the inheritance transfer—and hit send.

I followed it with: The notary office contacted me. My biological parents died in an accident. They left everything to me. I've been handling the procedures.

The backstory was tragic, though I felt little grief. My biological parents had spent years searching for me after my grandmother abandoned me for being a girl. My adoptive parents' struggle to conceive had sparked their search.

They'd found me eventually and begged me to come home, but I'd refused. Stubborn.

Who could have predicted an accident would claim them both, leaving their entire estate to the daughter who wouldn't even visit? The notary's notification arrived the very day I'd planned to reject them for good.

Scott knew about my adoption. Not the wealth.

I imagined him staring at that screenshot, greed flaring in his eyes, pupils dilating at the zeroes.

His reply came seconds later.

Where are you? I'm coming right now.

I didn't give my location. Still with the legal team regarding the company acquisition. It's complicated.

He pivoted instantly, his text oozing fake concern. Don't rush. Take it slow. Just be safe, okay? Let me know if you need help.

He didn't ask about the company details. Not yet. The old me would've thought he was being respectful. Now I knew better—he was recalibrating. He needed to solidify his position as "supportive boyfriend" before making his move on the assets.

I went silent for two days.

Let him panic. Let him wonder if his golden goose was flying away.

When I resurfaced, he messaged immediately. My parents haven't left yet. They really want to meet you properly. Dinner?

A cold smile crossed my lips. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Scott chose the venue—a restaurant with exorbitant prices and a reputation for luxury.

When we sat down, his parents snatched the menus. They didn't read the descriptions—just scanned for the highest prices and pointed.

"We'll take this," his mother said, tapping the most expensive seafood platter. "And this. And a bottle of that red wine."

They ordered like royalty, confident the bill wasn't their problem.