Leaving the Fake Pauper

I’m standing outside the door, listening to my boyfriend and his friends roar with laughter.

He’s currently wearing a ridiculous pink tutu, grinding against a stripper pole in a dive bar, all to buy me a discounted cupcake.

But his friends are mocking him, joking about the hundredthousanddollar limitededition Hermès Birkin he just bought for another woman. It turns out it was all a lie.

This was just a billionaire playing a "poverty game" to see how the other half lives. He’s already planning to dump me by faking amnesia once he has me hooked.

What he doesn’t know is that between him and my future, I never had any intention of choosing him. I’ve already bought my plane ticket. I leave in seven days.

Chapter 1 "What are you looking at?" Julian wrapped his arms around me from behind, his breath warm against my neck. He pressed a featherlight kiss to my earlobe.

His eyes landed on my phone screen. After a long beat, he covered my eyes with his palm and let out a low chuckle. "Don’t watch that.

It’s embarrassing." The video playing was of him performing at his parttime gig.

There he was, dressed in a tacky, cheap dress, clumsily twirling in a dim, boozesoaked bar filled with hecklers. He looked ridiculous, yet his expression was dead serious.

A sharp pang twisted in my chest. "Was it worth it?" I asked. He had humiliated himself like that—wearing a dress, dancing for tips—all for what?

To earn enough to buy me a discounted, nearexpired cupcake from the grocery store. "Of course it was," Julian answered without a second thought, his voice lazy and relaxed. "That’s nothing.

Just wait." "When I make the big bucks, I’ll buy you bags. The hundredthousanddollar Hermès kind." He paused for a fraction of a second, as if remembering something.

My pulse spiked, my fingers curling into my palms, but I kept my smile soft and steady. "I’d like that." We lived in a cramped basement in a dangerous slum.

The place was so small that once you squeezed in a bed, there wasn't room for a single other piece of furniture. A hundred thousand dollars.

It sounded like an astronomical figure from a different universe. But today, I had heard it twice. Julian didn't know I was at his "performance" earlier.

I was dressed in a heavy, suffocating Santa suit, a thick mane of cheap white fur glued to my face.

I must have been allergic to the adhesive; my skin was already breaking out in itchy red bumps. The manager told me to go backstage and take it off.

As I passed a room with a cracked door, I heard Julian’s voice. "Honestly, I’m getting bored. I’ve never lived in such a dump in my entire life.

There's a homeless camp in the alley right above us.

If you don't shut the window, the whole room reeks of weed and sour trash." His voice held a casual, elitist arrogance I’d never heard before. I froze outside the door.

After a round of raucous laughter, someone else chimed in. "You really went all out, man. A tutu?

Who even thinks of that?" "After today, the poor girl will probably be yours forever. But she has no idea.

It was Aspen’s birthday, and Julian didn’t even blink before swiping his Black Card for a hundredthousanddollar Birkin." "Hahaha! Imagine if she found out.

She’d probably cough up blood from the shock." A hundred thousand dollars.

The number rang in my head like a physical blow. "So, Julian, how much longer are you going to play this poverty game? Aspen comes back in seven days.

If she finds out you’ve got a little girlfriend on the side, you’re dead meat." "Yeah, and poor people are greedy and desperate.

Be careful you don't get stuck with a 'trashy' clinger." "Please." Julian straightened up, his smile sounding indifferent. "I’m dumping her in seven days anyway.

If she tries to cling to me, I have plenty of ways to handle it." "Worst case scenario, I’ll just fake amnesia and act like I don't know her.

What can she even do?" So, he had been faking it all along. He was even planning to fake amnesia. In seven days, he was going to walk away.

I thought I would burst in there and slap the life out of him. But I didn't. I turned around and walked back to the other room.

Facing the mirror, I slowly peeled away the cheap white fur. My chin was swollen and throbbing with red welts. I suddenly started to laugh.

Julian had no idea that I was lying to him, too. Chapter 2 I had once promised to love him forever.

But when forced to choose between him and my future… I never actually intended to pick him. I've already booked my flight to study abroad.

My departure date happens to be exactly seven days from now. The apartment was so small the bed directly faced the kitchenette.

The beatup microwave let out a harsh, piercing hum, filling the air with the artificial scent of cheap instant food.

Julian wore a simple white tank top that clung to his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the lines of his muscles clearly defined.

He was stirring the food, his movements practiced and smooth. "Tonight, we're having your favorite—mac and cheese with discounted frozen steak." He turned around, pulling a mockfierce scowl. "You have to eat two bowls, or you're gonna get it tonight." There wasn't even a decent table in the room.

I sat crosslegged on the edge of the bed like always, looking up to study him.

It was hard to imagine that a billionaire heir, raised with the world at his feet, could play the role of a deadbroke guy so flawlessly.

Julian brought the bowls over, his voice softening. "Careful, it's hot." "Babe, there's something I need to confess to you." I looked up at him.

But his phone buzzed, shattering the moment. When he saw the caller ID, his expression shifted.

He quickly answered, turning his body slightly to the side to make sure I couldn't hear the other end. "A rush job just came up. Pays two hundred bucks more than usual.

Babe, do you mind eating by yourself first? If I take this gig, I can take you out for a nice dinner tomorrow." He hung up and leaned in instinctively to kiss me.

I shifted my weight, smoothly dodging him. "If you're in a rush, you should get going." "Alright." He didn't hesitate. He grabbed a jacket, threw it on, and hurried out the door.

I sat on the edge of the bed until my crossed legs went numb. The mac and cheese sat stone cold, the cheese congealing into hard, greasy clumps. It was hard to swallow.

So awful that it made my throat burn. It was strange. I thought I had already made my choice. I thought I wouldn't feel a thing.

But the second I caught a glimpse of Aspen’s name on his phone screen… my fingernails dug so hard into my palms that they left deep, crescentshaped indentations.

It was late when Julian finally got back. I was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. He leaned over and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

A long time passed before he muttered, "I'm sorry." The volume was so low I almost thought I imagined it. He washed up quickly and carefully squeezed onto the mattress next to me.

Our bed was incredibly cheap. I shifted slightly, and the springs groaned in protest. Thankfully, it didn't wake him. Moonlight spilled in through the window. I opened my eyes.

Julian was already fast asleep, his features relaxed and peaceful. I reached over, grabbed his phone, and typed in his passcode with practiced ease. Just as I suspected.

Aspen was back. He had rushed out the door just to pick her up. In his group chat with his buddies, someone was already busting his balls. [Aspen came back early.

Let’s see how Julian gets out of this one.] [Damn, you still have to go back to that dump of an apartment tonight?] [Looks like Julian hasn’t dumped her yet.

Don’t tell me he’s getting attached.] Julian's reply was a single, sharp word: [Fuck off.] Aspen had texted him too: [Word is, you’ve had a girlfriend for the past two years?] Read.

But he hadn't replied. A sudden wave of realization washed over me. Two years. It had really been that long. Julian and I had been living in this tiny shoebox.

Over seven hundred days and nights spent together. We had worked ourselves to the bone, hoarding every penny. Having nothing, except each other.

Chapter 3 I locked my phone screen, staring blankly up at the pitchblack ceiling. In the cramped space, Julian’s breathing was slow and steady.

Halfasleep, he draped an arm over me from behind. Mumbling. He whispered something against my ear. It took me a long moment to decipher the slurred words.

It was that same phrase again. "I'm sorry." I threw an arm over my eyes. There was really nothing to be sorry about.

We were both getting exactly what we wanted, going our separate ways. In seven days, he’d go back to being his family's untouchable billionaire heir. And I would be gone, too.

I just didn't expect Aspen to come looking for me.

Assuming she was just another customer at the restaurant, I set the plate down on her table. "Enjoy." She stopped me cold. "So, you're Arden?" She looked me up and down.

Her eyes were sharp, a sneer tugging at her lips. "Is your entire outfit even worth a hundred bucks?

Where did he even dig up such cheap trash?" I met her stare, my face perfectly blank. "Managing to stay by Julian’s side for two years… I’ll admit, you’ve got some tricks," she mocked. "But do you have any idea who he actually is?" "Does it matter?" Julian.

The youngest, most pampered son of an empire. Aspen let out a dry laugh, leaning in. "You can't survive in our world.

If you have half a brain, you’ll pack your little bags and get out." "Because getting tossed aside once he's bored of playing with you?

That won't be a pretty look." I had zero interest in entertaining her. I turned to walk away. But she stood up and grabbed my wrist. Instinctively, I yanked my arm out of her grip.

It was weird—I barely used any force. Yet she stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor in a dramatic heap. Her hand caught the tablecloth on the way down.

The wine glasses on the table shattered. Broken glass rained everywhere. Aspen sat amidst the glittering shards. Tears instantly spilled down her cheeks.

Gone was the arrogant rich girl from two seconds ago. "Julian—" The sound of his name made my feet stop. Suddenly, a massive force shoved me from behind.

Julian pushed past me, dropping to one knee beside Aspen. The muscles in his jaw were tight, his brows pulled sharply together.

On her flawless calf, there was a tiny, narrow scratch. Probably from a piece of broken glass. Aspen deliberately shifted her slightly bleeding leg closer to Julian.

A flash of pure, smug provocation crossed her eyes—a look meant only for me. The cut wasn't even the size of a fingernail.

Yet Aspen’s delicate face crumpled in agony. "It hurts." It was actually hilarious. If Julian had arrived a minute later, the damn thing would have healed on its own.

But Julian treated it like a fatal wound. He looked up.

His eyes locked onto mine, his tone absolute ice. "Why did you push her?" It was the middle of summer, but a freezing chill rushed through my veins.

Aspen’s voice trembled as she immediately started talking, claiming that I had known about Julian's billionaire status all along. That I was only with him for his money.

Julian froze, staring at me for a long, heavy moment. "You knew?" I looked down at him. Yes, I knew. I found out yesterday.

The hard set of his jaw told me he didn't buy a single word. "Arden. I had no idea you were such a spectacular actress." He was the one who had lied to me.

I couldn’t fathom where this sudden, explosive outburst was coming from. "You were with me… for the cash?" He scoffed, his knuckles turning white. "You really know how to play the long game.

Arden, are you really that obsessed with money?" I didn't need to answer. Julian already thought he knew. I did love money. I loved it to a desperate, borderline obsessive degree.

But he didn't know why. I worked myself half to death hoarding every single penny.

I did it to get a full ride to study abroad, to finally finish the degree I had been forced to abandon.

Hand on my heart, over the last two years, he had played the role of a deadbroke boyfriend flawlessly.

Every little thing he had sacrificed for me, I had paid back in equal measure. We were perfectly even. That was all there was to it.

Chapter 4 "Trash from the bottom is always greedy, reeking of desperation." Supported by Julian, Aspen slowly got to her feet.

A mocking sneer curled her lips. "Julian… are you sure you still want to be with someone like this?" Julian moved out. All of his things vanished overnight.

The cramped basement apartment suddenly felt spacious. Empty. He packed up and left without a single word. So, this was the breakup, right? I let out a long, slow breath.

This was for the best. This way, I couldn't be accused of lying to him. A couple of days ago, I posted a thread online. [Got a full ride and I'm leaving.

Haven't told my broke, tablebussing boyfriend yet. How do I bring it up?] The comment section tore me to shreds. They all accused me of excluding Julian from my future plans.

They were right. Between him and my future, I chose my future. I tried to smile, but the muscles in my face felt rigid.

Thinking back now, the cracks in Julian’s poverty act had been there from the start. We met when some drunk tried to grope me during a waitressing shift.

Julian stepped in, handled the guy, and asked for my number. I didn't know highend designer brands back then.

But even I could tell the clothes on his back screamed obscene, untouchable wealth. Yet Julian swore he was just another broke college kid.

He claimed he'd been pulled in as a background extra because of his looks, playing a rich guy for a day. When else would I get the chance to wear clothes like this?

I swallowed the lie whole. I even started recommending him for extra shifts at my parttime gigs. What followed was a total cliché. He chased me. My walls came down.

We moved into this dump together, promising to hustle and build a future side by side. Looking back, I was an absolute idiot.

What I thought was a shared struggle in the trenches was just a game he played to cure his boredom. I didn't turn on the lights.

In the dark room, my phone buzzed twice, the screen lighting up the shadows. Julian had sent a photo. It was my passport. [Oops.

Accidentally packed your passport with my stuff.] Two seconds later, another text popped up. [Why did you apply for this out of nowhere? Where are you going? Bring it back.

We're done