Chapter 3

After throwing them out, I went straight to my study and opened my laptop.

Since we were going "pure" and "non-materialistic," I had to commit to the role fully.

First, I called Marcus, the sales manager at the Porsche dealership.

"Marcus, about that 911 we picked up yesterday. I'm not satisfied with it."

Marcus panicked on the other end of the line. "Ms. Vance! Is there an issue with the car? Just say the word, we will send a team to assist you immediately!"

"No, the car is fine," I said casually. "My boyfriend thinks the car is too tacky for his sophisticated taste. Send someone over to my building to tow it back."

Marcus was stunned, silent for a few seconds. "Uh... Ms. Vance, the car is already registered. If you return it now, it can only be processed as a used-car trade-in. You'll lose quite a bit..."

"I don't care," I cut him off. "Deduct whatever you need to. Just make sure that car is out of my garage by tonight."

After hanging up, I opened my banking app.

I found the authorized user credit card with the $150,000 monthly limit that Carter always carried.

I tapped "Freeze Card."

Next, I dialed my Chief Financial Officer, Leo.

"Leo, liquidate the accounts of 'The Solitude Cafe' immediately."

"The Solitude Cafe" was a passion project Carter had whined about wanting two years ago. I had funded the entire thing—from the prime downtown location to the high-end interior design and the premium organic coffee bean supply chain.

To save his "independent artist" pride, I had registered him as the sole owner and brand founder.

But in reality, because Carter only cared about hosting poetry readings and giving away free hand-brewed coffee to his hipster friends, the cafe was bleeding cash every month.

My parent company had been silently covering all his losses.

Leo hesitated. "Ms. Vance, that cafe has a monthly deficit of about $50,000. If we pull the plug now..."

"Cut all financial support from the parent company," I ordered coldly. "Starting today, Carter Miller is solely responsible for the rent, utilities, employee wages, and supplier bills.

Also, tell our legal team to draft a formal repayment contract for all the losses our company covered over the past two years. We're going to court."

"Understood, Ms. Vance." Leo was a smart man and asked no further questions.

Leaning back in my leather chair, I let out a long breath.

For five years, I had been a bottomless piggy bank, feeding Carter and his family's bottomless vanity.

I thought that if I gave him enough, he would eventually see my devotion.

But I was wrong.

Some people will eat your food and complain that your plates are too heavy.

Since he hated the gold, I would take it back and leave him in the mud.

That afternoon, Carter sent me a message on Snapchat.

"Babe, my card was declined? I'm at the mall with Hudson, and we found a limited-edition designer jacket, but the transaction didn't go through."

I looked at the screen, a cold smirk playing on my lips.

I replied: "Sweetheart, to prepare for your birthday surprise, I've decided to cut off all material distractions starting today. I want to show you that even without money, I can give you the most fulfilling love. Don't buy that jacket. I will hand-make a better one for you."

The chat screen went silent. Ten minutes later, Carter replied with a single word: "Okay."

Even through the screen, I could picture his face—gritting his teeth, forced to pretend he was touched by my "thoughtfulness."

He had built the "money is trash" persona himself. Now, he had to play the part, even if it killed him.