Rich Girl, Broken Boy: My 1000x Wallet

Minutes ago, I was standing in front of a mirror, trying on my wedding dress. Now? I was watching my perfect future fiancé dig a mudsoaked sandwich out of the dirt.

Blood dripped off his jaw, splattering into the puddle below as he shivered. I had literally crashed into the darkest nightmare of his high school years.

This bleeding, broken mess of a boy cowering in the dirt was Cole. The man I was supposed to marry.

I had sprinted into the alley, shoving my phone screen displaying 911 into their faces to scatter those sick bastards. Cole didn't even blink.

He just snatched up that mudsoaked sandwich and shoved it into his mouth.

I dropped to my knees and ripped the garbage out of his grip. "Stop." I pinned down his freezing, stiff hands. "I'm your future wife." His head snapped up. His pale lips trembled.

A sickening, obsessive fire suddenly ignited in his dead, hollow eyes. "Prove it." He twisted his hand, locking his fingers around my wrist in a death grip.

He glared at me like a brutal, feral beast guarding its kill. "Say you love me.

Say you'll never leave." Chapter 1 On the eve of my wedding, I was thrown back in time to my fiancé's high school years.

In a dim alleyway, someone had Cole by the throat, slamming his head viciously into the pavement. He didn't fight back. He didn't even thrash. It was sickeningly routine.

His face remained a blank slate, letting the blood ooze freely from his split skin.

The circle of guys around him erupted into laughter, some even pulling out their phones to start recording. I recognized the guy leading the assault.

Cole's stepbrother, Vaughn. "Look at him, Vaughn. He's literally a stray dog." "With this pathetic attitude, he's definitely no threat to you." Vaughn just smirked.

He grabbed Cole by the jaw, jerking his face up, and mockingly patted his cheek like he was training a mutt. "Come on.

Bark for your big brother." I kept my voice low, speaking rapidly to the 911 dispatcher on the line. I gave them the exact location and cut the call.

Vaughn's sneer echoed in the alley. "Your stepmom's bastard son is just as cheap as she is." That sentence snapped something in Cole. The dead emptiness in his eyes vanished.

He lunged, throwing himself at Vaughn like a cornered wild animal. But he was severely outnumbered and overpowered.

As the rest of the pack swarmed in to stomp him, I sprinted out from the shadows. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" "I already called the cops.

You want to wait around for them?" My gaze deliberately swept over their expensive custom blazers. "So the little lords of this elite private high school usually just gang up and bite like rats in a gutter?" Vaughn scoffed, spitting on the ground. "Bitch, mind your own business." He shoved Cole away, throwing down one last glare before signaling his crew.

They scattered down the block. As Vaughn passed me, his eyes raked over my outfit.

I knew exactly what he was doing—calculating my net worth and social standing based on the cut of my clothes.

Thankfully, everything I was wearing when I slipped through time had come with me. The designer labels were the only reason Vaughn backed off so easily. I stared blankly at Cole.

Across the span of years, I had crashed headfirst into a chapter of his life I was never meant to see. He didn't even seem to register the beating.

His trembling fingers reached out, clawing at a filthy sandwich halfcrushed in the dirt. Even with the plastic wrapper around it, the grime coating it made my stomach turn.

Mud had seeped completely into the bread. I stepped closer, dropping into a crouch, and clamped my hand over his. Cole tilted his head up. His expression was a complete void.

His fingertips twitched under my palm. That was when the shock hit me—his skin was terrifyingly icecold. He was so thin, his face completely drained of color. "Don't eat that.

It's garbage." I always kept energy bars in my bag, and right now, they were a lifesaver. I pulled my hand back, dug into my purse, and held out two wrapped brioche buns.

Cole didn't take them. He just stared at me in dead silence. His eyes held an eerie, hollow emptiness.

I ripped open the plastic, tore off a small piece, and popped it into my mouth. "It's clean. Not poisoned." Before I could even extend my hand again, Cole snatched the buns.

He shoved them into his mouth, barely chewing, just choking them down in two massive swallows.

As if the sugar rushed a tiny bit of life back into his veins, he slumped against the brick wall. Then, his hand dropped right back toward the mudsoaked sandwich.

I moved faster, dragging the ruined food out of his reach. Cole's fingers grasped empty air. For the first time, a flicker of raw emotion pierced his stare.

He glared at me, utterly baffled. "It's ruined. You can't eat it." Cole shot me a dark look. "I'm the one eating it.

Not you." Chapter 2 He was tall, but his bones jutted sharply beneath his skin.

Like a starving beast forced into a corner, his eyes remained stubbornly locked on the discarded food. I immediately stood up.

Right in front of him, I pinched the corner of the plastic wrapper, fully intending to toss the entire thing in the nearest trash can. Out of nowhere, a stray dog darted out.

It circled my ankles, its tail wagging frantically. Its coat was matted and dry, with glaring bald patches dotting its skin.

I ripped the wrapper all the way open, picked out the clean meat patty from the center of the sandwich, and tossed it to the dog.

The rest of the mudsoaked bread went straight into the trash. When I turned back around, Cole’s eyes were practically burning holes into me, brimming with absolute condemnation.

I swallowed back a heavy sigh. "We’re going to the hospital. I'll buy you food on the way." My Cole had a brutal, chronic stomach issue.

Back when we first started dating, my friends used to tease him, calling it a "CEO's ulcer." He would just shake his head with a soft smile, lower his eyes, and warn me, "That's why you have to eat properly.

It hurts like hell. You wouldn't be able to handle it." Back then, I just assumed he used to have irregular eating habits. I promised him with absolute certainty, "Don't worry.

I'll eat right, and I'll make damn sure you do, too." Was this seriously how he survived high school?

Whenever we talked about our school days, he always shifted the focus to college, to the time we met. He actively dodged anything about high school.

If I pressed him, Cole would just brush it off with a casual, "It wasn't exactly a great time. Let's not talk about it." Cole stared at me in silence for a long moment.

I waved my phone at him. "I have money. More than enough to take care of you." The second I timetraveled here, I had checked. The digits in my mobile payment app were still there.

Even though my actual physical bank cards were frozen in this timeline, the digital balance in my wallet was fully accessible.

A huge chunk of that money was from massive transfers Cole had sent me. Using the older, established Cole's money to sugarmama this bruised, teenage version of Cole?

The irony was almost too good. When he didn't move a muscle, I reached out and grabbed his arm to pull him up. "Look at you. You're practically a skeleton." He weighed nothing.

I hauled him onto his feet with zero effort. It felt like I was holding onto a stack of bones loosely draped in skin. Cole used my grip to steady himself.

He didn't say a word, just obediently dropped his gaze. He was probably checking himself out, wondering if he really looked as bad as I said.

Years of starvation and brutal beatings had clearly dulled his processing speed. Cole thought about it for a second, keeping his head down, and mumbled, "It's fine.

I used to be skinnier." The raw grievance in his voice was unmistakable. My chest seized, a sharp, suffocating ache clawing up my throat.

Then, I heard his tentative, broken whisper. "I'm hungry." "We're going to the hospital first to get you checked out.

Then you can eat whatever you want, okay?" I found myself slipping into a gentle, coaxing tone, like I was calming a terrified kid. "And your head… doesn't it hurt?" Cole gave a stiff nod. "It hurts," he rasped. "But I'm starving more." I supported his weight as we limped out of the alley to hail a cab.

The bitter sting in my throat refused to fade. I had never once seen an ounce of resentment toward the world in my Cole. It had completely fooled me.

I used to think he grew up surrounded by love, which was why he was never bitter, never extreme.

It was impossible to wrap my head around how someone who had crawled out of this literal hell could turn into the endlessly patient, gentle man I loved.

While Cole was getting stitched up and examined, I dashed to the nearest mall to buy him some clean clothes.

The second the cashier rang me up, my eyes practically bugged out of my head.

Chapter 3 What should have been a simple onethousanddollar charge hit my mobile banking app as one million dollars.

I stared blankly at the screen, muttering out loud, "My phone is cursed." The sales associate glanced at it, a flicker of absolute subservience to wealth in her eyes. "You have exquisite taste, ma'am.

That's a limitededition luxury piece from this season." In everyone else's eyes, my spending looked completely normal.

I guessed that crossing over into this timeline had triggered some insane glitch with my digital balance. A onetoonethousand ratio.

Not even an hour ago, I was running my mouth about how I had more than enough cash to keep Cole comfortable. His hospital bill alone had just cost me over three million dollars.

My face contorted into an ugly grimace. Cole's eyelashes fluttered rapidly. "It doesn't hurt.

I don't need treatment." He tried to shove the medical chart and the bags of prescribed meds right back into the nurse's hands.

I snatched his wrist and dragged him toward the hospital exit. I scolded him as we walked. "What the hell are you doing? You're sick and you're refusing a doctor.

What, are you trying to ascend to heaven?" I was secretly thrilled. From today on, I got to throw all the lectures older Cole used to give me right back in his face.

The guy I was dragging suddenly planted his feet, stopping dead in his tracks. "What's wrong?" Cole's voice was muffled. "Hungry." "I'm taking you to get food right now, but the doctor said you have to start with something bland and easy to digest.

You can't gorge yourself all at once." Cole didn't say a word. I turned around in surprise. He was staring down at the pharmacy bag dangling from his grip.

Just as I was trying to figure out what was going on in his head, he suddenly looked up. His eyes were full of sharp scrutiny.

He blinked once. "Take your meds." Then, he unceremoniously hooked the plastic bag over my wrist. "Excuse me?" I lifted the bag, halfpissed and halfamused. "You're the one who's sick." Cole didn't even blink.

He reached up and tapped the fresh bandage on his head. "I'm sick.

I'm hungry." His tone was so outrageously pitiful I almost nodded and gave him whatever he wanted. "I'm taking you to eat, but the doctor said—" I started repeating the medical instructions all over again.

I had no idea if he heard a single word.

The second I finished, he glared at me like I had committed a federal crime. "Liar." As if that wasn't intimidating enough, he bared his teeth at me. "If you don't feed me, I'll eat you." Starvation really must mess with brain function, because right now, Cole was acting completely ridiculous.

I couldn't help myself. I whipped out my phone and snapped three rapidfire pictures of his scowl.

Click, click, click. "I never said I wouldn't feed you, but we have to take it slow, right?

If you just inhale garbage right now, your stomach is going to kill you." Cole seemed to process that for a second before deciding I made sense.

He reached over, unhooked the pharmacy bag from my wrist, and carried it himself again. People always joked about a milliondollar meal, but I was literally redefining it.

Thanks to this cursed exchange rate, Cole wasn't eating food; he was swallowing solid gold. I only ordered him a steaming bowl of chicken soup and two slices of soft bread.

Cole's shoulders slumped, his face dropping into a mask of pure tragedy.

He didn't complain out loud, but his eyes kept darting longingly toward the diner window across the street. "I told you, you have to let your stomach recover," I said firmly. "I'll buy you the good stuff next time." The second those words left my mouth, Cole's head snapped back to me.

His eyes were practically sparkling, locked onto mine like a golden retriever waiting for the command.

I gestured toward his bowl. "Eat." He demolished it like a categoryfive hurricane. I honestly couldn't wrap my head around it.

The Cole I knew was so elegant, so grounded and composed. He had nothing in common with the feral boy inhaling soup in front of me.

Chapter 4 Doing the math, I wouldn't actually meet him for another three years.

What kind of massive, lifealtering opportunity did Cole stumble into during these three years to trigger such a drastic transformation? I pulled myself out of my thoughts.

Watching Cole devour his food like a starving animal sent a sharp pang through my chest. The lecture hovering on the tip of my tongue dissolved. I swallowed it back down. Whatever.

We had plenty of time. I could teach him table manners later. I pulled a napkin from the dispenser and handed it to him.

Cole gave his mouth a careless, halfhearted wipe and tossed it aside.

Then, he stared at me with those wide, intense eyes and dropped two words. "I'm hungry." A sudden idea sparked in my head. "Are you going to be a good boy?" He shot me a baffled look, but didn't even hesitate to sell his soul for more food. "Yeah.

You say I'm sick, I'm sick. I won't even argue." In a flash, I saw the man he would become superimposed over this bruised, boyish face.

The man who always had a master plan, who always stayed ten steps ahead. The man who constantly told me, "Don't be afraid.

I've got you." I always trusted him blindly, and he always delivered, finding the perfect way out of any mess. But this teenage version of Cole?

He was dangerously manipulative in his own way. Playing the obedient, submissive role perfectly, agreeing to whatever I said. I flashed him a sickly sweet smile. "Good.

Then we're not hungry. We're done eating. Let's go." Cole's face instantly dropped.

He wiped every trace of emotion from his features, picked up his bags in dead silence, and trailed behind me like a literal ghost. Jesus.

Did he just keep his face blank 24/7 to conserve calories? "Where do you live?

I'll take you back to your dorm." Then, remembering the brutal beatdown I'd walked in on today, I quickly pivoted. "How are your roommates?

Are they decent to you?" Cole shook his head, his movements sluggish. "I live offcampus. Alone.

No roommates." He answered obediently, then lifted his heavy eyelids to lock onto my gaze. "You're good to me." The air punched right out of my lungs.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. How could Cole have a past this shattered? I treaded carefully. "What about… your mom?" My Cole rarely talked about his family.

When he first introduced his background to me, he just flatly stated his parents had passed away.

Back then, I had looked at him with sheer heartbreak, but he just flicked my forehead. "What's going on in that head of yours? I didn't have it as rough as you think.

Actually, I got more than enough." He was too gentle. Too forgiving. I naturally assumed he was a guy who grew up bathed in love, and just tragically lost it later.

Loved properly by his parents, which was why he didn't hold an ounce of resentment toward the world. But looking at him now? I was dead wrong. Cole pressed his pale lips together.

His lashes fluttered slightly. "Never met the one who gave birth to me." Before I could even process that, he kept going. "The one now is my stepmom. My biological mom was young.

She had me and dumped me. My dad picked me up and raised me." "After he died, my stepmom took me and remarried." A few flat sentences.

That was how he summarized a lifetime of absolute hell. A sickening knot twisted violently in my gut. Cole watched me in utter silence for a long moment.

Then, he suddenly leaned down. His eyes locked onto mine, invading my personal space until the tip of his nose was inches from mine.

My breath hitched, skipping two erratic beats in my throat. "So, do you think I'm pathetic?" His deep voice brushed against my ear, carrying a deadly allure.

My knees practically buckled. Chapter 5 "What?" I tried to steady my racing heartbeat, forcing a casual look.

Cole smiled, his beautiful eyes curving into crescents. "I'm hungry." Those two words were like a cursed spell. I slapped my hand over his mouth. "What I say goes.

And I say you're not hungry." He instantly wilted like a sunbaked weed. A highly dissatisfied grunt muffled against my palm. It wasn't what I had pictured.

Cole's place wasn't a dump.

The apartment was spotless and welllit, fully stocked with modern appliances. "You live here, but you don't have money to eat?" He took his medications out one by one, lining them up meticulously on the counter. "It's my stepdad's.

It doesn't belong to me." As if worried I wouldn't connect the dots, Cole added, "Vaughn's father." No wonder the place felt completely devoid of life, like a sterilized showroom.

Cole clearly just treated this as a temporary shelter. Or worse, outside of providing this roof, absolutely no one gave a damn about his actual existence.

They just needed him breathing. I stayed quiet for too long.

It drew a heavy, scrutinizing look from Cole. "Hand." He crossed the room in three massive strides and held his palm out to me.

Just looking at that hand offered a brutal glimpse into Cole's daily hell.

His nails were clipped short and rounded, but I could still see the dark, purplish blood pooled beneath the nail beds. Like someone had viciously stomped on his fingers.

Jagged, ugly scars marred the open palm extended toward me. "Your hand." When I didn't move, Cole repeated himself, gently prying open my tightly clenched fists.

Only then did I realize I had been unconsciously digging my nails into my own flesh, leaving deep, crescentshaped gouges in my palms.

My eyes snapped up instinctively, colliding with his. "It's okay. Don't be afraid." His voice was a low rumble.

I couldn't tell if he was comforting me or trying to convince himself. "I didn't have it as rough as you think." Memories slowly overlapped, finally freezing on the present moment. "Not rough?" Cole was a genuinely, deeply good person.

Whether in the past or the present, I had always believed that. That had never changed. "I'm alive today. I'm getting an education.

No one owes me anything." "No one?" I repeated the words. In my eyes, he was surrounded by monsters. There was zero chance the adults in his family were blind to his situation.

They just deemed him worthless and played deaf and dumb. "Even though I was dumped at birth, I have no right to hold a grudge. My dad told me my bio mom was just a kid.

She didn't have the means and was terrified of the consequences. I get it." "My dad picked me up. He never mistreated me. When my stepmom remarried, she took me with her.

I have a school to go to and a future ahead of me." "Nothing tragic about that." Cole's face remained stoic.

He recited this nightmare with dead calm, turning around to pour me a glass of water. "It's still warm. Drink." I took the glass.

The heat seeped into my icy fingers. "As for Vaughn and his crew," Cole continued, "I can't say I don't resent them. But my stepmom's life is already hard enough.

So I just have to let it go." I tilted my head back and took a sip.

The warm liquid slid down my throat, but the sheer, suffocating magnitude of his repressed madness pierced right through me, making my chest violently tremble.

Chapter 6 Maybe Cole didn't actually need me to save him. He had his own world, his own brutal set of rules for survival. It wasn't that he didn't know how to fight back.

He just understood the crushing weight of reality better than I did. He knew exactly how precarious it was for a woman dragging a child into a wealthy, elite marriage.

His stepmother didn't necessarily hate him, but she definitely didn't love him either. But… but. I loved him.

And the thought of leaving him like this made my chest tighten so hard I could barely draw a breath. "Why are you telling me all this?" I lowered my eyes, unable to hold his stare.

My fingertips nervously tapped against the warm glass, pressing and lifting in an erratic rhythm. I still had the video of the alleyway beatdown on my phone.

Every single one of their faces was captured in crystal clear highdefinition. If I leaked it, Vaughn might face some consequences. Or he might not. But Cole and his stepmom?

They would absolutely pay the price. Cole completely ignored my question. He threw one right back. "Why are you so good to me?" My gaze snapped back to his face.

His dark eyes were filled with a stubborn, raw confusion. "Because I want to." I rubbed my thumb against the glass, letting the heat of the water seep into my skin. "Cole." I brought my other hand up, wrapping both palms securely around the cup.

I tilted my head, flashing him a smile, desperately trying to keep my tone light and teasing. "You probably won't believe this, but I'm your future wife." "Crazy.

Bullshit." I braced myself, fully expecting him to spit out something like that