Chapter 1

After driving Uber all day and making barely a hundred bucks, I bought my girlfriend the latest designer cashmere coat.

Instead of being happy when I got home, she threw on a disgusted look and sneered at me.

"Can't you show some real ambition? How much can you even make driving that beat-up car every day?"

"I just came back from my college reunion. My friend’s boyfriend casually gifted her a thirty-thousand-dollar designer bag!"

"I am not wearing this flea-market trash. It's humiliating!"

I stared at her disdainful face, momentarily stunned.

The "beat-up car" she mentioned was an ultra-exclusive hypercar—one of only ten ever made worldwide.

And that "flea-market trash" she threw onto the floor was a bespoke, private-client coat that required a seven-figure spending history just to order.

Chloe slammed the coat onto the hardwood floor. "Julian, I’ve stayed with you for three whole years. Is this how little you care about me?"

I bent down, picked up the deep camel cashmere coat, and tried to explain calmly.

"Chloe, this coat is actually very high quality."

"High quality?" She let out a mocking laugh, unlocked her phone, scrolled through her screen, and shoved it in my face.

"Look at this! An authentic Birkin! Lily’s boyfriend gave it to her! They’ve only been dating for three months, and he bought her a bag worth a fortune!"

I recognized the bag.

A rare leather Birkin, around forty to fifty thousand dollars on the private market.

Last year, for our family housekeeper's milestone birthday, I had my personal shopper in Paris bid on a similar one. The color was even rarer than this one.

"The price tag shouldn't define the gesture. It’s the thought that counts," I said, gently placing the coat on the back of the sofa.

"The thought?" Chloe’s voice climbed an octave higher.

"Your 'thought' is buying me cheap clearance junk? Do you know my friends keep asking what my boyfriend does for a living? I was too embarrassed to even answer!"

I looked at her in silence.

Three years. She had never asked about my family background, nor had she ever asked why I chose to drive an Uber.

All she saw was me leaving early and returning late, driving what she assumed was just an "odd-looking sports car."

"Chloe, what if I told you... I’m actually very wealthy?" I tested the waters.

She froze for a second, then burst into hysterical laughter.

"You? Wealthy? Stop embarrassing yourself! Would a billionaire drive Uber rideshare? Would a rich heir live in a rented two-bedroom apartment like this?"

She gestured toward our downtown apartment.

This two-bedroom luxury apartment had a monthly market rent of five thousand dollars. She always assumed I barely managed to afford it with my savings.

In reality, the entire high-rise belonged to my family’s real estate conglomerate. I only lived here because it was convenient for my private club down the street.

"I have an early drive tomorrow," I said, turning toward the bathroom. "Get some rest."

"Running away again!" she yelled after me. "Julian, I’m sick of this! I am completely done with you!"

The bathroom door clicked shut, cutting off her shrill screams.

I turned on the shower, my mind drifting back to that rainy night three years ago.

Back then, when my father was transitioning part of the family empire into my hands, he gave me a piece of advice:

"Julian, the most dangerous thing about immense wealth is that it blinds you from seeing true hearts."

"Go out and live like an ordinary man. See who truly stands by you when you appear to have nothing."

So, I moved out of the family estate and drove out the least flashy vehicle in my garage—an ultra-rare custom hypercar worth around seven million dollars.

In my father’s eyes, this was already considered "down to earth."

Driving an Uber was just an impulsive idea.

I wanted to observe what life was genuinely like for everyday people in this sprawling metropolis.

And then, I crossed paths with Chloe.

It was a torrential downpour. She was standing outside her office building, soaked to the bone and desperately trying to hail a ride.

When I pulled up in front of her, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"You’re... an Uber?" She stared at the sleek, aerodynamic frame, completely stunned.

"Get in. It’s pouring," I said, handing her a clean, dry towel.

Throughout the ride, she sat stiffly on the edge of the leather seat, terrified of dripping rainwater onto the upholstery.

When we arrived, she insisted on adding a twenty-dollar cash tip. "Your car is far too nice. I feel awful paying just the standard fare."

I gently declined the extra money. She insisted on adding my SnapChat. "Let me buy you lunch sometime to return the favor. Thank you for rescuing me tonight."

We started dating soon after.

During the first few months, she never pry into my finances. She simply enjoyed spending time with me.

I genuinely believed I had found someone special.

Until six months into the relationship, when the first complaint slipped out.

"Julian, my coworker’s boyfriend bought her a diamond pendant from Tiffany's."

She lounged on the sofa, scrolling through her feed. "We’ve been together for so long, and you’ve never given me a real luxury gift."

I paused for a moment, then smiled. "What do you like? I’ll take you shopping."

Her eyes instantly lit up. "Seriously? This weekend?"

That weekend, I drove her to the premier luxury department store on Fifth Avenue.

Inside the Chanel boutique, she tried on several bags before finally pointing at a classic flap.

"What do you think of this one?"

Seven thousand dollars.

I nodded without hesitation. "If you love it, take it."

She threw her arms around me in sheer excitement. But while the sales associate was wrapping it up, she leaned in and whispered nervously:

"Is this too expensive? How much do you even take home driving Uber every month?"

That was the very first time she asked about my income.

I gave a vague answer. "Enough to get by."

She seemingly convinced herself that I had emptied my savings to indulge her. Deeply touched, she kissed my cheek. "You treat me so well."

From that day on, everything gradually began to sour.