Chapter 1

On our fifth anniversary, I gifted my boyfriend of five years a brand-new Porsche 91

I thought my generosity would buy his loyalty. Instead, the very next day, he went on a TikTok live stream to drag my name through the mud.

In front of the camera, his eyes were bloodshot, his voice dripping with bitter resentment.

"What I wanted was real, pure love, not a relationship built on a pile of cash!"

"She doesn't get me at all. She loves humiliating my heart with her stupid money!"

His best bros chimed in to support him, and the comment section immediately turned into a toxic wasteland, everyone calling me a soulless sugar mommy.

Watching them twist the truth so effortlessly, I only felt a cold, deep irony.

Fine. Since he wanted a love untainted by the smell of money so badly, I decided to grant him his wish.

Not long after, Carter Miller found himself drowning in millions of dollars of debt, with breach-of-contract lawsuits piling up like mountains on his desk.

He ended up on his knees in front of me, looking like a wet, dirty dog, desperately grabbing the hem of my pants, sobbing and begging:

"Vivian, I was wrong! I don’t want that bullshit pure love anymore!"

"Please, help me. Give me back my resources, my money... I really can’t take this anymore!"

1.

The buzz of my phone felt exceptionally sharp in my empty luxury penthouse.

It was 3:00 AM, and my screen was flashing with countless notifications.

It wasn't work emails on WhatsApp, but rather hundreds of wild tags and mentions on Snapchat and TikTok.

I rubbed my throbbing temples and unlocked the screen.

What caught my eye was a video that had already surpassed a hundred thousand likes.

The creator: "Carter’s Late-Night Radio."

My boyfriend of five years, Carter Miller.

The cover of the video was a close-up of his face—red-rimmed eyes, a broken expression, and a line of shocking text overlay:

[On our 5th anniversary, I received the most devastating gift of my life.]

I clicked on it.

In the video, Carter was sitting in the driver's seat of a pristine, shiny Porsche 911, twirling the key fob.

It was the car I had taken him to pick up just yesterday, worth nearly two hundred thousand dollars.

But he wasn't smiling.

He took a deep, shaky breath for the camera, his voice heavy with suppressed sorrow.

"Today is the fifth anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend."

"I thought, on such an important milestone, she would have prepared a surprise full of memories."

"Even if it was just a handwritten letter, or taking me back to the diner where we had our first date."

"But no. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He raised the key fob with the Porsche crest, his eyes filled with disgust and hurt.

"She just took me to the dealership, got this new car, and said: 'Like it? Drive it home yourself.'"

"At that moment, my heart completely froze."

"A two-hundred-thousand-dollar car sounds amazing, right? But in my eyes, it’s just a heap of cold, lifeless metal!"

"It has no warmth, no soul, and absolutely no love!"

"I asked her if she had anything else to say to me. No gift prepared with actual thought?"

"And she actually rolled her eyes and said, 'Isn’t this car good enough? Other guys would kill for this. Stop making a scene.'"

In the video, Carter gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

"I was speechless. In her eyes, what am I? A pet she can just throw money at?"

"I never wanted her money!"

"I wanted the little things. I wanted the effort. I wanted the romance of being chosen over everything else!"

"Am I wrong? I just wanted a pure love. Why is that so hard?"

"This transactional relationship is literally driving me insane..."

The video cut off there.

I stared at the screen. My chest didn't ache with pity for him like it usually did.

Instead, a wave of pure, unfiltered disgust washed over me.

In his little monologue, he conveniently forgot to mention that this car was his "Dream Car." He had seen someone else driving it two weeks ago and had been whining about it in my ear every single day since.

He also didn't mention how many strings I had to pull, and how much extra cash I had to pay under the table, just to get this exact model delivered in time for our anniversary.

And he definitely didn’t mention the context of my line, "Stop making a scene."

We were at the dealership, and he had thrown a massive tantrum in front of everyone because the staff didn't set up a red carpet and a giant bow for his "delivery ceremony," making me look like an idiot.

In his video, I was the heartless, newly-rich b"ch who thought money solved everything.

And he was the noble, poetic prince who refused to bow to wealth.

I tapped open the comments.

The internet had gone completely wild, and the screen was flooded with insults directed at me.

[Oh my god! Carter, don't cry! That classless rich girl doesn't deserve you at all!]

[Two hundred thousand dollars to buy off five years of youth? What does she think love is? A business transaction? Disgusting!]

[So gross! She thinks because she has money, she owns him. She doesn't respect men at all!]

[Support Carter in breaking up! My girlfriend only makes $3,000 a month, but she makes me midnight snacks and hand-knits me beanies. That’s priceless romance! Money is trash!]

[Bro, run! This woman looks down on you in her bones. She thinks you're just after her wallet. You deserve a real girl who actually cares about you!]

[I looked her up! Her name is Vivian Vance, founder of a tech startup. Haha, typical. The richer they are, the colder they get.]

[@VivianVance, apologize! You owe Carter his youth back!]

I scrolled down expressionlessly.

Among the top-liked comments, I spotted a few very familiar handles.

Hudson and Logan.

Carter’s two "ride-or-die" bros.

Hudson commented: [As Carter's best friend, I honestly can't watch this anymore. Vivian, you boss him around daily, and now you humiliate him like this on your anniversary? Do you even know how many sleepless nights he spent trying to plan a surprise for you?]

Logan commented: [Exactly! Carter is a man of spiritual depth. He wants a soulmate! Your dirty money only pollutes his world! Set him free already!]

But the most hilarious one was the third-highest comment.

It was from Carter’s mother, Evelyn Miller.

She had replied to a random user:

"Sigh, my Carter was protected too well by me since he was a kid. He’s too pure, too gentle, always dreaming of those idealistic romances."

"I told him long ago that Vivian is too materialistic, too cold. She can’t give him the emotional support he needs. But this stubborn boy just wouldn't listen to his mother..."

"Too pure."

"Too gentle."

I looked at the comment and burst out laughing from sheer anger.

I remembered three years ago when Evelyn Miller, claiming she "felt insecure," forced me to buy Carter a luxury apartment in downtown LA—and demanded only Carter's name be put on the deed.

And two years ago, when Carter’s younger brother wanted a new car, she heavily hinted that as Carter's girlfriend, I should fund it.

Just last month, Evelyn went on a vacation to the Maldives and maxed out the $150,000 limit on the credit card I gave her.

And now, she was online calling me materialistic, saying I couldn't support her son emotionally.

I threw my phone onto the sofa and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the glittering night view of the city stretched out before me.

Suddenly, these five years felt like a complete farce.

I had given everything to pamper him and his family until they took it all for granted.

And yet they stood on their high horses, looking down on me, claiming my money was dirty and that I wasn't worthy of their noble souls.

Fine.

Since you think my money is so filthy.

I will give you exactly what you asked for.