The Gold Digger Who Left

I didn't come from money, so everyone around my rich girlfriend decided I had to be a gold digger. Nobody more than Tristan Reed, her male best friend. He told them he'd been kept by rich women himself, so he understood men like me better than anyone. To prove I wasn't that kind of man, I never accepted a single expensive gift from Vivian Ford during the three years I spent with her. Tristan had an explanation for that too. "He says no out loud, but he's waiting for her to offer something better on her own. It's called playing hard-to-get." Then came Vivian's birthday. I'd saved six months of my salary and bought her a necklace. I was almost at the door of the private room when I heard Tristan laughing. "See? I told you he'd buy something expensive. "That's the oldest trick a gold digger has. Pretend you're not after the money, then trade a little of it for a lot." Vivian sat beside him filing her nails. She didn't contradict him. Someone egged him on. "Vivian, your boyfriend's not just a gold digger, he's a professional." Then somebody spotted me and made a hushing gesture. "Quiet, he's here." Tristan just scoffed. "Some men ought to be honest like me. That's what rich women actually want. Am I wrong?" Vivian was quiet for a long moment. Then she looked up at me. "After all this time pretending in front of me, were you really just waiting for one big payout?" I stood in the doorway, and the necklace in my hand suddenly felt too heavy to hold. I didn't answer. I just turned around and left. A heart that's doubted every single time is one I'm taking back for good. Chapter 1 Adrian's POV After I left the private club, I went back to the mall where I'd bought the necklace. Denise, the sales associate who'd rung me up, recognized me right away. Half an hour earlier I'd taken the gift box from her hands, so happy I could barely hold still. Now the ribbon hadn't even been untied, and I was asking her to take it back. "Sir, the pendant's engraved on the back. The most we can give you is fifty-six hundred." I'd saved half a year's salary and paid eight thousand for it. Handing it back cost me nearly twenty-four hundred dollars. I made myself nod. "Do it." Denise had just picked up the box when Tristan Reed's laugh came from behind me. "See? I told you he'd return it." Vivian Ford and everyone from the party had followed me over. They stood around outside the counter like they'd come specifically to watch me make a fool of myself. Someone lifted a phone and started recording. "Eight grand on a necklace. Bet he's already picturing the sports car Vivian hands him in return." "That kind of return on investment, Wall Street should hire him to teach." "A guy out of a nothing town lands the Ford heiress. You don't pull that off without a plan." Vivian pressed her lips together. She'd worn a red dress that night, her long hair falling in loose waves. Standing in that crowd, she was the only thing in the room worth looking at. There'd been a time when she couldn't stand to hear anyone talk about me that way. She'd hook her arm through mine and defend me, half pouting, half furious on my behalf. Tonight, she didn't say a word. Tristan came and stood beside me and gave a small, cold laugh. "You're all amateurs. A run-of-the-mill gold digger just asks a rich woman for money. "The sophisticated ones spend a little of their own first, then wait for a chance to look wounded. He gives the gift back, she feels guilty, and the car and the condo follow." The laughing got louder. "So that's what a long con looks like." "No wonder he wouldn't take a single gift for three years. He wasn't after a watch. He was after a seat at the Ford family table." The second the refund cleared, I turned to go. Vivian caught the hem of my sleeve. "Adrian, haven't you made your point?" She pulled a black card out of her purse and pushed it into my hand. "I said more than I meant to back there. "Go buy yourself something you like and stop being angry with me. Please?" Her voice went soft at the end. Her fingers curled lightly against my palm, the way they always had. Any other night, that would've been enough. I'd have folded before she finished the sentence. Tonight it just felt cruel. Three years together, and I'd never spent a dollar of hers. She still believed everything I felt could be settled with money. I set the card down on the counter. "Vivian, we're done." The smile froze on her face. Tristan clapped once. "What did I tell you? Giving the necklace back was the appetizer. The breakup's the main course." He turned to Vivian, absolutely certain of himself. "Three years of work and he's one step from marrying into the Ford family. You think he's walking away from that?" Her friends jumped straight in. "Vivian, honestly, just marry him and keep him. Otherwise next time it won't be a returned necklace, it'll be him up on a roof somewhere." Vivian looked at me, and somehow there was hurt in her voice. "If you want to get married, you can just say so. I never said I wouldn't marry you. "Why do you have to threaten me with a breakup?" I pulled my hand back. "I'm not trying to make you marry me. I don't want to marry you anymore." She stared at me. The last of the softness went out of her eyes. "Marry me? With what money? I'm not asking you to pay for any of it, and I think that's pretty generous. I've let you keep up this act without holding it against you. What more do you want?" I didn't say anything. She nodded slowly, like I was the one being impossible. "Fine. Let's see how long the pride holds out." I left the mall on my own. I'd barely gotten into the cab when Gerald Harris called. "The Middle East project's short a man. Three years on site, and you'd fly out the day after tomorrow. "Conditions over there are rough. You want it?" I'd turned down two overseas postings for Vivian already. This time I didn't hesitate. "I'll take it." After I hung up, I booked a nine a.m. flight for the morning after next. Less than two days left in this city. Less than two days left with Vivian. Chapter 2 Early the next morning, I started packing. Three years of my life fit into two suitcases. I'd just zipped the second one shut when the apartment door opened. Vivian walked in with Tristan behind her. Everyone who'd laughed at me the night before came in after them. Not one of them looked embarrassed about letting themselves in. They circled my luggage and started offering opinions. "He actually packed." "If you're going to put on a show, commit to it. Those cases are probably empty." "I say he folds before tonight." "Tonight? That's generous. Three hours." Tristan held up one finger, completely sure of himself. "One hour. "All Vivian has to do is offer him this apartment and he won't go anywhere." Someone gave him a thumbs-up. "Leave it to Tristan. Right in his wheelhouse." "He lived off rich women for years. Of course he can spot one of his own." They all cracked up. I ignored them, crouched down by the suitcase, and slid my ID and passport into the inner pocket. Vivian stood in the doorway looking grim. She clearly hadn't slept. There were faint shadows under her eyes, and even her hair, which she never let out of place, was a little tangled. "You're really going? Where?" "That's not your business anymore." She bit her lip and took a step toward me. Tristan cut in immediately. "Hear that? He won't tell you because he wants you worried. "Ask him one more time and he's won." Vivian stopped where she was. I took a box out of the dresser. The building pass, the keys, and the handful of things Vivian had ever given me were all inside. The most expensive was an eight-hundred-dollar watch. It had been left over from a raffle at one of her parties, and she'd tossed it to me without thinking twice. I pushed the box across to her. "These are yours." The moment Vivian saw the keys, her face went dark. Tristan snatched them up first and dangled them off one finger. "Vivian, you still don't get it? He's lived here three years and his name never went on the deed. He's insulted that his rich girlfriend didn't take the hint." Her friends nodded like something had finally clicked. "Three years and no property? Yeah, I'd be getting impatient too." "Vivian, your charity giving has been a little thin." "You could sell ten houses in his hometown and not cover one of your closets. Of course he's desperate." My nails dug into my palms. Vivian knew better than anyone how much I hated hearing my background turned into a punchline. She still didn't stop them. She just looked at me. "I'll have my assistant start the transfer this afternoon. "The apartment's yours. Happy now? "If you want something, just say it. You don't have to work this hard at pretending." It felt like somebody had put a fist through my chest. "I don't want it." They glanced at each other and laughed again. "A whole apartment isn't enough? That's some appetite." "Maybe he's holding out for shares in Ford Group." Tristan folded his arms. "He's not saying no. He's saying not enough. "Give him the apartment today and tomorrow he'll be asking for the company." I looked at Vivian. "Is that what you think too? That I'm turning it down because it isn't enough?" She didn't answer. That was the moment the last of my desire to explain myself went out. I lifted my head and made myself smile. "I'll be out shortly. After this, there's nothing between us." Her eyes went red instantly. "All you had to do was talk me down. Why did you have to blow it up like this?" She reached for my sleeve again, and her voice went soft. "All right. I'm not angry anymore. "So don't you be angry either, okay? "I'll cook for you tonight. Anything you want." I looked at her. "Vivian, I'm the one who got humiliated. Why is it always me who has to talk you down?" Her hand stopped in midair. Tristan pulled her behind him. "Adrian, don't push your luck. You know who she is? "She's the only heir the Ford family has. Men line up for a shot at her. "She's standing here apologizing to you and you're still acting superior?" I picked up my suitcases and turned to face him. "Her money is her business. I've never spent it and she's never supported me for a single day. "You, though. You call yourself her best friend while you drive the car she bought you, wear the watch she paid for, and stay in the hotels she books. And then you point at me and call me a gold digger. "What, it doesn't count as freeloading if you're not sleeping with the woman paying for it?" Tristan's expression changed. "What are you talking about? Vivian and I are just friends!" "Then enjoy being just friends." I rolled my luggage toward the door. Vivian stepped in front of me. Her eyes landed on the passport sitting on top of the suitcase, and real panic crossed her face. "Where are you going?" "Work." "What kind of work needs a passport?" I didn't answer. Tristan caught her arm. "Don't ask, Vivian. He put it right where you'd see it because he wants you scared. "The second you push him for an answer, he's won." She looked at Tristan, then at me. The hand she'd reached out with slowly came back down. "Fine." She held back the tears and stepped aside. "Go. And if you've got any pride at all, don't ever come back." I rolled the suitcases past her. At the door, she wrapped both arms around me from behind. "Adrian." Her cheek was against my back. There were tears in her voice. "Can you really stand to leave me?" For one heartbeat, I almost gave in. Then Tristan walked over. "Let go, Vivian. "You're worth billions and you're clinging to a gold digger begging him to stay. Doesn't that embarrass you? "He's not going anywhere. Trust me. He'll be back apologizing within the hour." Vivian went stiff. In the end, she let go. She believed him. I didn't look back. Once I was through that door, I had no intention of coming back through it. Chapter 3 That night, Tristan added me to a group chat. It was called How Long Can the Gold Digger Last. There were more than twenty people in it, all friends of Vivian's. The second I appeared, the messages started flying. I bet he apologizes before midnight. Midnight's too late. A guy who grew up with nothing isn't throwing away a meal ticket that good. I say he's on his knees outside her office begging to get back together. Loser buys late-night food for a month. Tristan sent a voice message. "You're all giving him way too much credit. "Packing the bags, handing back the gifts, that's the standard playbook. A man who actually wanted to leave wouldn't make a production out of it. "He wants everyone to know, because he wants Vivian to come running." Somebody asked how he could be so sure. Tristan laughed. "How many times do I have to say it? I used to do this for a living. "A broke guy landing a woman like Vivian is the same as winning the lottery. "You ever hear of a lottery winner tearing up the ticket instead of cashing it?" The chat filled with laughing reactions. Vivian was in the group. She never said anything. She never stopped them either. I left the chat. Ten seconds later, Tristan added me back. Don't run off yet. Weren't you breaking up with her? Let's see how many days you can keep it up. Why don't you put money down on what time you crawl back? I left again. Half an hour later, an unknown number called. "Is this Vivian Ford's boyfriend? Ms. Ford's been in a car accident. She's in emergency surgery." They'd run the exact same play three years ago. That day I'd been taking a professional licensing exam. When I heard Vivian had been in an accident, I walked out without even turning in my paper and tore across town to the hospital. I shoved open the door of the hospital room and found a table spread with food and liquor. They laughed and said the panic on my face proved I was terrified of losing my meal ticket. The second time, my mother was in the hospital with a dangerous fever. They called again and told me something had happened to Vivian. I left my mother with a neighbor and rode five hours back on the train. Another test. They watched me panic and complimented me on how convincing my acting was. Vivian curled against me and coaxed me in that sweet voice of hers. "Don't be angry. They just wanted to see how much you cared about me. I won't let them do it again, okay?" I forgave her. Whatever she meant by next time, it never actually arrived. This time, I answered calmly. "If somebody needs to sign paperwork, call her family. "We've broken up." The line went quiet. Then the laughter exploded. Tristan took the phone. "Look at you, catching on. You knew we were testing you. "But don't think playing cold is going to scare Vivian. A woman worth billions can have any man she wants. "You lose her and that's it, there's no climbing back out. Give up the act. Everybody here knows exactly what you are." I hung up. At dawn, I hauled my luggage to the airport. Before security, a coworker called me. "Ms. Ford's assistant just asked me whether you're really taking the overseas posting." I stopped walking. "What did you tell her?" "I didn't get a word out. Some guy next to her said you were bluffing to force a proposal. Ms. Ford heard that and hung up." I didn't have to ask who. At eight forty, they called my flight. I looked back once at the terminal entrance. Vivian hadn't come. My phone buzzed. Tristan had sent a video. Vivian was sitting at the private club with a drink in front of her. Her head was down and her eyes were red. They were all still waiting for me to cave. Tristan's voice came from behind the camera. "Don't cry, Vivian. He's not going anywhere. He's parked somewhere near the airport right now waiting for you to run over and beg. "You go, and he'll use this breakup on you for the rest of your life." Vivian lifted her head. "And if he really goes?" Tristan didn't hesitate for a second. "If he can actually walk away, I'll apologize to him in front of everybody." The video ended. I turned off my phone screen and walked to the gate. I didn't want his apology. He could keep it and choke on it. Chapter 4 Before heading to the airport, I'd arranged for a courier to take the boxes I'd packed to the Vivian. Somehow they were taken to the private club. Somebody posted an unboxing video in the group chat. The scarf, the keychain, and the tie Vivian had given me were all in there, along with the handful of cards she'd written me over the years. At the bottom was an itemized statement. For three years I'd written down every dollar Vivian covered on meals, trips, and the time we shared the apartment. After subtracting my share, the balance came to fifteen thousand eight hundred dollars. I transferred it to her account, every cent. In the video, someone picked up the statement and doubled over laughing. "What is this, an invoice? Three years of companionship, itemized?" "Fifteen grand out of a rich woman in three years. He must feel robbed." "No wonder he's pretending to move out. He's trying to get Vivian to raise the rate." Tristan pulled the statement away and skimmed it. "He made the math this precise so Vivian remembers he gave her three years of his life. "Wait for it. Next he'll be billing you for the three years. A grown man, doing that." Vivian sat on the sofa, getting paler with every word. She looked at the pile of returned things. "What if he actually wants to break up?" Tristan burst out laughing. "Vivian, you really bought the performance? "What does he make in a month? The second he leaves you, he's paying rent, riding a packed train to work, and going on dates with ordinary women. "He's had three years of the life your money bought. You think he can go back to that?" Her friends piled on. "Vivian, you're just too attached to your charity case." "He can't find a richer woman out there. He'll crawl back." "He's probably standing outside the door right now, waiting for you to say you forgive him." They called my flight again. As I got into line, Vivian's assistant messaged me. "Mr. Cole, Ms. Ford would like to know when you're coming back." I didn't reply. When it was my turn at the gate, Gerald called. "We've notified the partner firm. Vivian's going to find out soon that you signed for three years. "You're sure about this?" I looked down the jet bridge toward the plane. "I'm sure. This time I'm not turning around." After I hung up, I opened my messages with Vivian. Three years, and almost every message was mine. Asking when she'd be home. Reminding her to take her medication. Telling her where I'd put the clean laundry. Somewhere along the way, a grown man had turned himself into her live-in housekeeper. The last few dozen messages had gotten the same two words back. Got it. I sent the last things I had to say. Vivian, your friends were right. I'm a very good actor. I'd had enough a long time ago, and I still spent three years pretending to love you. The performance is over. Next time you test me with a car accident or a drunk disappearance or an emergency, nobody's coming. Her call came in almost instantly. I didn't answer. She kept calling, her name jumping onto the screen over and over. A flight attendant asked me to switch to airplane mode. The screen finally went quiet. At the same time, Corinne was delivering my overseas contract to the private club. Printed there in black and white: three years. Tristan reached for it, but Vivian got a hand flat on the page before he could. She stared at my signature, and the color drained out of her face. This time I wasn't acting. I was actually gone.