I was labeled a gold digger

?
I'm a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar, squeezed into a bunny costume that was more humiliation than fabric.
In the VIP booth, the tycoon's son, Bruno, was arguing with his one true love, a black card pinched between his fingers.
Five million on this card. Are you sure you don't want it?
The girl, dressed in a janitor's uniform, sneered at him from behind her mop.
"My money is clean! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?"
Furious, Bruno grabbed me. "The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?"
I took the card. "I dare."
Later, the girl had regrets.
And Bruno? He came back to me.
"Victoria is bothered by our past," he'd said. "Maybe you should date someone else for a while."
"Fine," I'd replied.
*****
The sky was already dark when I left the hospital after visiting my grandmother. I hopped on my e-scooter and raced toward the bar where I worked.
Halfway there, the rain started pouring. For a split second, I was distracted, and my wheels skidded on the slick pavement.
Of course, I had to crash into a Maybach.
A rear-end collision in the rain. I was completely at fault.
A door opened and a man stepped out, unfurling a black umbrella. He tilted it kindly in my direction. As he got closer, I saw he was around my age, but with a refined, almost delicate beauty. Fair skin, a high-bridged nose, and sharp, elegant eyes that tilted up at the corners. His suit, though brandless, was impeccably tailored, making him look even more coolly aristocratic in the rain.
I moved my aching arm and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely.
"I'm so sorry, the rain was too heavy, my scooter slipped, I'm really so sorry…"
A pathetic little whimper escaped my lips, brimming with self-pity. I held up my scraped arm, rubbing at my eyes. If I was going to play the victim card, now was the time.
I was a student by day and a worker by night. Medical bills, tuition, living expenses—I was short on everything. There was no way I could afford to fix his car.
I'd heard stories of rich car owners magnanimously forgiving broke commoners. A desperate prayer formed in my mind: Please let him be a kind, wealthy man who doesn't care about the money.
A familiar female voice cut through the rain, sharp with impatience. "Bruno, hurry up! Don't make me late for work!"
Work? A high-society heiress who takes a Maybach to her part-time job?
A pale, oval face appeared in the car window. It was Victoria, the scholarship student from the class next to mine.
Bruno pushed the umbrella into my hand and helped me right my scooter.
He sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. "Forget it. Just go. Be careful on the road."
I thanked him profusely, terrified he would change his mind, and sped off into the rain.
As I left, I heard Victoria complain, "What a hassle. I'm never riding in your car again."
I recognized him then. Bruno. The old-money heir from the campus forums. He was the sole heir to the Antonia Corporation, and he was hopelessly in love with the scholarship student, Victoria.
The whole school knew he was pursuing her. He'd showered her with luxury gifts and arranged internships, all of which she had publicly refused. The last time, he'd staged a massive drone light show confession outside the women's dorms. Victoria had finally appeared, looking distressed, begging him to "stop putting her on the spot," insisting she didn't want his "charity" and that she wanted to "make her own way in life."
I thought their tragic love story had finally ended, but here he was, still trying.
I suppose it made sense. Everyone praised Victoria for her integrity and backbone. I'd even heard girls getting lectured by their boyfriends when they asked for birthday presents. "Look at Victoria. She never spends a man's money."
In the bar's staff room, I shivered as I changed into the bunny costume. The skirt was scandalously short, barely covering anything. I pulled on two pairs of thick tights and pinned the neckline higher.
My manager knew my situation. "You get a 15% commission on drinks," she'd told me. "As long as the customers don't get out of hand, don't turn your nose up at the money."
I nodded. A week's pay as a bunny girl could cover several more days of my grandmother's hospital stay.
The door at the end of the hall opened. I froze. Victoria?
She was wearing an oversized janitor's uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, struggling with a heavy water bucket.
Our eyes met. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of derision.
"You work here too?"
"Yeah. You? Janitor?"
"The hourly wage is higher here," she said, straightening her back. "And it's clean."
I glanced at her washed-out sneakers and almost laughed. What was the difference between being a janitor here and anywhere else? You were still scrubbing floors. Or was she implying that, compared to my job, hers was infinitely cleaner?
We weren't close, so we didn't speak further.
I carried a tray of drinks into a private room to make a sale.
The room was thick with smoke. Bruno and his circle of rich friends were lounging on the sofas. A shattered bottle of Ace of Spades lay on the floor, its contents pooling on the carpet. Victoria was called in to clean it up.
"Isn't that the girl Bruno's after?" someone whispered.
The guy next to her quickly took the mop. "Here, let me get that for you."
Victoria's head snapped up, her eyes like ice. "No need! You break a bottle to force me to serve you, and now you're playing the nice guy?"
The room fell silent.


?
Bruno's face darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Victoria said, standing up straight, "that I earn my money honestly. Not like some people!"
"Victoria!" Bruno cut her off, pulling a black card from his wallet. "Just listen to me. Think of it as a sponsorship. You don't have to work in a place like this."
I stood to the side, a silent observer. For people like us, a "place like this" was the best opportunity we could get.
Victoria was trembling with rage. "Bruno!" she shrieked. "I'm not for sale!"
Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Me, in my bunny costume with its barely-there skirt.
Someone coughed awkwardly. "Hey, don't mind her. She didn't mean it like that."
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My nails dug into my palms. I was afraid if I let go, I would lunge at her and pull her hair.
Who the hell was she to judge me?
She preached about making her own way, yet she was secretly benefiting from the extra scholarship money Bruno had arranged for her. And from her moral high ground, she had the audacity to mock those of us who were truly struggling in the mud.
"Last time I'm asking. Five million on this card," Bruno said, slapping the black card on the coffee table. "Are you sure you don't want it?"
Victoria sneered. "I earn my money honestly! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?"
The room went quiet again.
A humorless laugh escaped Bruno's lips. He grabbed my wrist. "What about you? The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?"
The black card gleamed under the dim lights.
I thought of the IV needle buried in my grandmother's wrist. I thought of the mountain of tuition and fees that were about to crush me.
Dignity? That was a luxury only the rich could afford.
"I dare," I said without hesitation, taking the card from his hand.
Victoria's expression froze. She stared at me, her gaze dropping to Bruno's hand, which was now wrapped possessively around my waist.
"You're pathetic," she spat at me.
Then, for Bruno's benefit, she added, "You'll regret this."
She stalked out, mop in hand, her head held high.
Bruno's friends, however, burst into cheers.
"Out with the old, in with the new!"
"It's about time you moved on, man! What's the point of chasing someone who just throws it back in your face?"
"She's addicted to playing the victim! Turning down good money just to suffer."
"Yeah, this one is much sweeter!"
Yes, I was pathetic. So pathetic that I could see the truth she refused to acknowledge. The special "underprivileged student" spot that magically appeared in last semester's international competition. The extra TA position in the science lab that the professor had hand-picked her for.
I wanted those unseen advantages and privileges, too.
She wanted to be a saint.
Fine. I hope she enjoys her sainthood.
After that night, I became Bruno's official girlfriend. He told me to spend the five million on the card as I pleased, and to let him know if I needed more.
I used his card to pay for my grandmother's hospital stay, pre-loading her account with two million. It would be more than enough.
The moment the transaction notification popped up on my phone, for the first time, I felt the frantic, spinning top of my life begin to slow down. Before this, every day had been a struggle. Two meals a day: a bun and an egg for breakfast, rice and one vegetable dish for lunch. The egg was my only protein. The vegetables were the cheapest on offer at the cafeteria.
One day, I was in line at the cafeteria, deciding to splurge on a meat dish. A short burst of laughter erupted behind me. It was Victoria and her friends, whispering to each other. Their eyes were fixed on the designer cashmere scarf Bruno had given me. It was, undoubtedly, evidence of my gold-digging ways.
When I went to the logistics office to quit my campus jobs, the manager gave me a pointed look. "A young girl like you should focus on being practical."
At the elevator for my weekend English class, I ran into the top student from my department.
"You're in the summer intensive course, too?"
The moment I nodded, I heard whispers from behind me. "She's just buying her way in with her boyfriend's money."
They were right. But I was going to use this shortcut to build my own path.
With money in my pocket, my hostility toward the world began to soften.
Of course, every time I used the card, Bruno got a notification on his phone.
One night, he called me to pick him up from a bar. As I approached the room, I heard his friends talking.
"Not bad, Bruno. This new one actually knows how to spend money. A lot better than the last one!"
Bruno jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.
"Careful what you wish for," another friend slurred, drunk. "You just got rid of one extreme. Don't end up with a money-sucking vampire on the other end."
Bruno slipped his phone back into his pocket. He'd been looking at the transaction alerts. They were all from the hospital, the cafeteria, tutoring centers. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat.
"She's spending it well," he said, downing his drink in one gulp. "Better than letting it sit in my account like a savings passbook."
When I pushed the door open, they all straightened up, respectfully calling me "sister-in-law." The title was absurd. At best, I was his arm candy, a soulless gift-receiving machine.
Bruno seemed addicted to giving me things. The latest Chanel collection, priceless pearl earrings, a crocodile Birkin bag, entire sets of luxury skincare.
"Dress the part, and people will listen to what you have to say," he told me.
He had said the same thing to Victoria once. She had thrown the coat he'd given her back at him, muttering that it was "too flashy." Then she'd worn her faded, old jacket to a job interview and came back complaining that they hadn't even bothered to look at her resume because she looked too young.
My intimacy with Bruno was limited to holding hands and an arm around my waist. It was as if he just needed someone by his side who knew how to spend money, to complete the picture. And I just happened to desperately need money.
One weekend, while we were out shopping, we ran into Victoria at the mall. She saw the shopping bags hooked on my arm. This time, there was no disdain in her eyes. Only envy.
Bruno awkwardly let go of my hand, as if he wanted to explain something, but the hatred in her eyes silenced him.


?
Three days later, I heard Victoria had applied for the student exchange program.
Bruno was at a street food stall with me when he got the call from his advisor. He'd been patiently peeling crayfish for me. For a while, the great heir to the Antonia Corporation had been happily slumming it with me at night markets and food stalls. The red oil from the crayfish had splattered on his white shirt cuff, and I felt a pang of guilt.
After he hung up, he didn't say anything. He just kept peeling the crayfish and piling them on my plate. Everything seemed normal.
But in the middle of the night, his friend called me.
"Bruno's at his downtown condo. He's locked himself in. We're a little worried. Can you go check on him?"
The moment I opened the door, the thick stench of alcohol hit me. The floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open, the curtains whipping violently in the night wind.
Bruno was curled up on the rug.
He heard me and looked up. His eyes were alarmingly red. His usually straight back was slumped, as if all the strength had been drained from him.
"She's gone," he said, his voice so hoarse it made my own throat ache. "I used to tell her she was a fool for working so hard to save money. But yesterday… she transferred me some money. She said… she said it was a travel fund we'd saved up together when we were both working part-time."
He suddenly laughed, a sound mixed with a sob. "Why is she so stubborn? I wish she were more like you."
But I knew the truth. If she were like me, Bruno wouldn't love her.
I didn't know how to comfort him. I cleaned up the apartment and helped him to bed. As I was about to leave, he grabbed my hand. "You're leaving, too?"
"You said you would love me."
I hadn't realized he remembered what I'd said in the VIP room that night.
In the moment I hesitated, he pulled me into his arms, and I fell onto the bed.
When he kissed me, even though I had prepared myself to be a sugar baby, I was still scared. I turned my head, and the kiss landed on my cheek.
His fingers traced the side of my face, his voice a soft, patient coaxing. "Don't hide from me, Alberta. You're mine."
The night dissolved into a blur.
After that, physical intimacy became a constant between us, a feverish habit he couldn't get enough of.
One day, he insisted I dress up as a bunny girl for him.
I snuggled against his shoulder, a rare moment of coquettishness. "Not today. Next time."
He pinched my waist, always leaving his marks on me, fingerprints and bruises from his kisses.
"It's always ‘next time,' isn't it?"
He kissed my cheek. "My timid little bunny."
Later, as we were both scrolling through our phones, I saw in the alumni group chat that Victoria was coming back to the country.
I'm sure he saw it, too.
His phone rang. "Bruno, Victoria's back. She's throwing a welcome home party. Are you coming?"
He shot me a guilty look and snapped into the phone, "Don't bother me!"
I pretended not to care. "You should go if you want to."
I don't know if it was my timing, or if my feigned magnanimity had struck a nerve. The smile vanished from his lips.
I wrapped the sheet around myself and reached for my clothes on the floor. "I'm heading back to campus."
"Okay," he said distractedly.
I couldn't focus in the library. I put on my headphones and logged into a burner account on a game.
And then I heard it. His friend's voice, clear as day through the game's voice chat. "So, if Victoria is willing to give you a shot, what about Alberta?"
Bruno's voice was cool and distant. "What about her?"
"I mean, she's been your girlfriend for two years."
I held my breath. In the game, my character had already been killed.
He sighed. "We'll break up. I can't be with two people at once, can I? Besides, I've been more than generous with her these past two years."
His friend agreed. "True. It's a shame, though. We've all gotten used to having Alberta around."
"That's enough. Not a word about this in front of Victoria."
The one who isn't loved is always the third wheel.
I understood.
I quit the game. Suddenly, the last two years with Bruno felt completely meaningless.
But tears still fell onto my phone screen.
My fingers trembled as I typed out the words. It was better to make a graceful exit now than to wait for him to deliver the sentence.
"Bruno, Victoria's back. Let's break up. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted."
I waited a long time. The "typing…" bubble appeared and disappeared. Bruno hated texting. He always said, "Why waste time texting when you can clear things up with a two-minute phone call?"
A "ding" signaled a new message.
"Okay. If you ever need anything, just ask."
When things were good, I had dared to hope he might love me. Now that we were breaking up, I finally understood my place. I was just the opportunistic clown who had taken advantage of a situation.
"Victoria has always had a misunderstanding about you. I hope you two can avoid each other in the future."
I understood that message, too. He was afraid I would use some cheap trick to hurt his precious white moonlight. He was warning me. The past two years had given me the illusion that we were equals. Now that we were breaking up, I realized that he had always had the right to look down on me.
I froze, my hand gripping the phone. "Okay. Understood," I typed back.
I moved out of the dorm immediately and started at the internship I had already arranged. That night, there was a welcome dinner for the new interns. Of all places, it was at the same bar where I used to work.
The moment I walked in, I saw Victoria on Bruno's arm.
I quickly ducked into the next room. As I was about to leave, someone stopped me. I recognized him. A VIP at the bar named James. I had met him once with Bruno. I remembered they didn't seem to like each other.
His eyes raked over me. "Bruno's girlfriend?"
I frowned. "Sorry, wrong room."
He smirked, a lecherous look in his eyes, and tilted my chin up with his fingers.

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