The Billionaires' Piggy Bank

The entire campus was taking wild bets on exactly when the billionaire heir would finally dump me.

His boys were cracking up, tossing millions from their Ferraribuying trust funds straight onto the betting table.

But they had no idea I was staring at my phone screen, watching my offshore account balance skyrocket, all thanks to a few fake tears I just squeezed out.

And right at this exact second, his two absolute best friends were secretly sliding into my DMs, begging me for a date.

Chapter 1 "I took you guys as my brothers, and you're stabbing me in the back?" Declan slammed his phone face down on the table, enunciating every syllable.

The guys in the VIP booth were all friends he'd grown up with since they were in diapers.

One by one, they looked away, desperately trying to distance themselves from me. "Hazel's decent looking, and her personality is okay, I guess.

She's just… too bland." "It wasn't me, man. I like guys." "Why are you all looking at me? I'm dating for the Ivy League and old money families.

If a girl doesn't have a black card or a trust fund, I won't even glance her way. Hazel can't even afford a fake Hermes." "Don't look at me.

I don't even know who this Hazel girl is." Declan went silent for a moment.

Hesitating, he picked up his phone and hit the FaceTime button. "Hazel, you coming to watch me play ball this afternoon?

The guys are here too." He panned the camera around the room on purpose.

The second he saw me darting my eyes away, his expression darkened. "Maybe not," I whispered, keeping my gaze low. "I'm still at my shift.

I don't think I can make it." Before Declan could snap, I added softly, "By the way, you just got over that cold. Stay warm, okay?" He hung up.

The notification chime of 'wealth' rang in my earbuds. A sixfigure deposit hit my account, and the note was perfectly phrased. I didn't hesitate.

I sent the money right back immediately. "Don't be like this.

I don't want people saying I'm only with you for your money." Caring about what people say is one thing; passing up free money is another.

Having my cake and eating it too happens to be my greatest talent. And Declan? His greatest trait was never taking no for an answer.

By the time he transferred the money for the third time—via a private account—and threatened to buy out this dump of a fast food joint just to fire the manager if I didn't show up at the football field, I was already peeling off my greasestained uniform.

I stood by the curb, waiting for that beatup Greyhound bus.

At an eightdollaranhour minimum wage, I wasn't about to be some fool who died for her 'dignity.' I screenshotted the fraud alert triggered by the massive single deposit and sent it to Declan. [Look at what you did!

My account is frozen because of the transfer! Angry face emoji] [A threehundredthousanddollar limit?

Next time I'll send half a million.] Tears of gratitude practically leaked from the corners of my mouth. I truly felt Declan loved me. After all, love is wherever the money is.

If we took the cash out of the equation, though… I wouldn't even know how to judge. People at school said Declan and I were like a couple straight out of a Kdrama.

The billionaire heir and the maid's daughter. I didn't see it that way. Mostly because my mom didn't even qualify to be a maid for the rich.

These days, highend domestic staff needed at least a bachelor's degree and fluency in three languages. Maybe if I worked hard enough, I'd have a shot. But I was undeniably broke.

A drunk for a dad, a sick mom, and a shattered version of me holding the whole house together. The Hazel family hadn't seen a dime of wealth since my greatgreatgrandfather's time.

We were peasants eighteen generations deep. We shouldn't have even been in the same universe as Declan and his elite circle.

But luckily, while God closed every door and window, He left me one tiny loophole. Chapter 2 My grades were untouchable, and my face wasn't bad either.

Even a raw, unedited student ID photo managed to capture this perfect, aloof melancholy. By the first day of classes, I was already turning heads.

In the placement exams that followed, I wiped the floor with the runnerup.

I knew exactly where I stood: in a prep school built on rigged privilege, the only fair game in town was the academic leaderboard.

The day after the rankings dropped, I caught an echo in the stairwell.

Declan, promising his little childhood sweetheart that he'd play with my feelings and drag me down from the number one spot.

His boys were cracking up. "Once Declan makes his move, even this untouchable valedictorian is going to turn into a desperate simp." "Honestly, if I were that broke, I'd throw myself at him too.

Scoring even a crumb of his trust fund would be a total win." "If Hazel doesn't crash from valedictorian to the bottom of the barrel, then our Declan officially takes the L." "Scoff," Declan replied. "Like I'd ever lose?

Place your bets now, boys." The stakes hit the millions. Enough cash to pack me up and sell me off as a lifelong slave to a Mexican cartel compound.

I acted like I heard nothing, turning on my heel and taking the back stairs to class. A girl like me doesn't get many chances to take a highly profitable shortcut in life.

I wasn't about to slam this golden door shut.

That very night, leaning against the greasy counter of my fastfood shift, I started digging through their digital footprints on my phone.

I was ready to trade my brilliant mind for these rich boys' true love… and by love, I meant cold, hard cash.

Honestly, scrolling through the sickeningly lavish lifestyles of these trustfund brats made my teeth grind with envy.

I mapped out their entire lives via their socials, mentally cursing the universe and demanding to know when it would finally be my turn to strike gold.

Surprisingly, the universe actually listened. Declan stood waistdeep in a sea of roses flown in directly from France, oozing arrogant confidence. "Hazel, I want you.

Be my girlfriend." I didn't pinch myself. A girl like me couldn't even afford to have a dream this expensive.

Staring down this milliondollar declaration of romance, I didn't even blink. I turned him down flat. He chased after me, demanding a reason.

I just shook my head, dropping my gaze as I spun on my heel and walked away.

The rumors that the broke valedictorian had actually rejected the billionaire heir spread like wildfire across campus.

His original plan was to break my spirit, but my rejection ignited his toxic, alphamale ego. As for me? I just had a simple philosophy. Flowers wither. True love lasts forever.

And by true love, I meant an offshore bank account. By the time Declan showed up at the end of my shift for the fifth day in a row, I was already walking out into the rain.

I spotted a stray, matted kitten shivering by the dumpster. Declan trailed silently behind me as I carried it straight to the vet clinic. Declan knew exactly how broke I was.

He figured there was no way I'd drop cash on a dying street cat.

He was just waiting in the wings, ready to swoop in with his black card right when I was hesitating and tearing up, playing the perfect savior to win my heart.

He never saw my next move coming. "Excuse me," I said softly to the receptionist. "How much to… put this kitten to sleep?" The words had barely left my mouth before Declan stormed over. "What the hell is wrong with you?

How can you be so coldblooded—" He stared at my exhausted, deadcalm face, and all his righteous billionaire fury evaporated. "If you don't want to save it, just walk away.

Why kill it?" "Because I can't even afford my own rent," I whispered, my voice hollow. "Saving it just means it starves and freezes right alongside me.

Rather than letting it get ripped apart by wild dogs on these brutal streets, I'd rather blow my entire paycheck tonight just to give it a painless exit from this messedup world." "It's just a damn cat.

I'll adopt it." Declan stared at me, his brows pulling together in a tight frown. "You're way too cynical, Hazel.

How do you know the rest of your life is just going to be pure suffering?" Chapter 3 I stroked the cat and just smiled. "I used to think we were a lot alike. But not anymore.

She's lucky. She found someone willing to take care of her tonight." I spun on my heel before Declan could say another word. "Sorry, I have to catch the last bus.

She's your problem now." Declan's frown deepened. He took two quick steps after me. "It's pouring.

You can't just call an Uber?" I paused and popped open my busted umbrella. "If I had Uber money, I wouldn't be spending two hours commuting to campus every day." Declan opened his mouth, shifting awkwardly. "Is it really that bad?

Give me your Cash App. I'll send you some money." I glanced back over my shoulder. The rain was coming down in sheets outside the glass doors.

I let my eyes well up just a fraction. "I'm grateful enough that you're taking the cat. As for me—you can bail me out once, but you can't fund my whole life.

I'm going to study hard, make a ton of money, and save all the strays I want.

And then I'll never have to transfer four different buses just to get where I'm going ever again." I stepped out into the stormy night.

The heavy glass doors cut off whatever Declan was going to say next, but they couldn't block the burning weight of his stare drilling into my back. Curiosity is a fatal trap.

Once you crack the door, it blows wide open.

When I found out Declan had spent the entire night digging into the tragic, resilient life of the poor valedictorian—even tracking down the manager of the fastfood joint where I worked—I knew I had hooked him.

Declan had decided to actually play the game with me. The kind of game that rained cash. I really didn't think Declan was a bad guy.

Mostly because, once I finally got rich, I didn't even want to imagine what kind of villain I would become.

So, late one night after my shift, when he showed up holding a steaming hot container of comfort food, I finally said yes. He stared at me in disbelief.

Then, right on the spot, he wired me another massive deposit. I scrambled, pretending to panic as I tried to wire it back.

But thanks to my tragic fivehundreddollar daily transfer limit, the transaction failed. God bless the banking system for protecting the poor.

He looked at me, his eyes softening with this ridiculous sense of awe. "You're too naive, Hazel.

What girl these days isn't just in it for the money?" I rolled my eyes, faking a playful pout. "You're the idiot." Declan reached out and ruffled my hair. "I'm just messing with you." I dropped my gaze and kept my mouth shut.

Because I definitely wasn't messing around. Two months rolled by. Declan didn't play with my feelings or sabotage my GPA.

Instead, to protect my fragile pride, he started inventing excuses for me to accompany him on errands.

Like when he claimed he needed to prep for his Ivy League admissions assessments, so he hired the most elite, obscenely expensive SAT tutoring team in the country and insisted I sit in on the sessions.

As a result, during the statewide finals, I easily scored a perfect on my mock SATs. That was just the limit of the grading system, not the limit of my IQ.

Declan's little childhood friend was furious.

She tried cornering him for a weekend date to talk things out. "Declan, let's go golfing this weekend." Declan just flashed a wide, oblivious grin. "Wait, how did you know my girlfriend just ranked number one again?" That Ivy League heiress was so pissed she smashed her thousanddollar phone right on the pavement and ran off crying.

But Declan didn't even glance her way. He was too busy instructing his assistant to clasp a limitededition haute couture necklace around my neck.

Once his friends realized Declan was actually hooked, they couldn't sit still. "Are you seriously into her, man?" "I'm just faking it.

Getting her attached is all part of the master plan." "You sure? Because you don't look like you're faking." "I've got my own rhythm.

But honestly… Hazel is a really good girl." "Bro, you send her ten texts and she replies to one. Her game is way out of your league!" "I googled it.

Her zodiac sign just hates texting." Chapter 4 As one of his closest friends, Nathaniel was the first to come for me. He and I were both in the elite Ivy League prep program.

Except I always sat in the front row, and Nathaniel's seat was so far in the back you'd need an Uber to reach it.

Today, breaking his own rules, he slid into the seat right next to me. "I'm going to expose exactly who you are, sooner or later. Look at you.

You think a nobody like you actually deserves my brother's true love?" His expression was ice, shooting me a look of pure disgust. I laughed inwardly.

He could shove his little worries right back up his ass. What good was Declan's true love? I was here for the solid gold.

The bell rang, and the strictest, most draconian math professor on campus marched into the room.

In his class, anyone who forgot their textbook or slacked on an assignment got publicly humiliated or had their parents called in.

I glanced at Nathaniel's empty desk. "You didn't bring your book? Are you insane sitting in the front row?" Nathaniel's face dropped. It was too late to switch seats.

The exact second the professor stepped off the podium, I shoved my own textbook right in front of him.

In the reflection of Nathaniel's stunned gaze, I was the one who got dragged out into the hall. Out of all of Declan's boys, Nathaniel actually put in the work.

I'd heard Declan mention it once or twice. The patriarch of Nathaniel's family demanded academic perfection from his heir.

So Nathaniel's father was brutally strict about his performance at school. I was banking on him remembering this little favor—and paying me back with high interest.

Nathaniel was my biggest rival for the fullride Ivy League scholarship recommendation.

If he were to step down… voluntarily or otherwise… A million lucrative scenarios flashed through my mind, cut short by the voice of the guy who was supposed to be sitting inside. "Why did you help me?" I nearly jumped out of my skin and cursed.

Locking eyes with him, I immediately switched on my startled, doeeyed expression. Talk about the selfdiscipline of a tragic heroine.

Nathaniel could live a thousand years and never realize I had rehearsed this exact scenario in the mirror countless times. Today, it finally paid off.

Nathaniel's family was insanely strict. In the ruthless war for inheritance, his father treated him like nothing more than a machine built to impress the family patriarch.

Because of that, his reputation was spotless. He had never even set foot inside the elite clubs Declan and the others burned their cash at.

He arrogantly believed he was above the cheap temptations of his friends, that he saw right through the illusion of love. In reality? He was completely clueless.

I could handle a thousand guys like him. He'd be lining up, clutching a ticket, waiting for his turn to fall for me.

I masked the calculation in my eyes, pitching my voice into a careful, hesitant whisper. "Last time, I saw your father's private helicopter landed on the campus lawn… I figured a Wall Street tycoon like him really cares about your academic evaluations." Slamming the Ivy League recommendation letter right into Nathaniel's face in front of the entire faculty office, threatening to cut off his black card.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed slightly. He just stared at me, dead silent. I acted as if I suddenly realized I crossed a line, hastily dropping my head. "I'm so sorry.

I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I was just in the office filling out my financial aid applications." Nathaniel let out a selfdeprecating laugh. "It's fine. It's standard procedure.

If you didn't see it this time, you would've seen it the next." I stayed quiet for a long moment, then murmured, "I know it looks glamorous from the outside, but… it must be exhausting for you guys.

I just knew the professor wouldn't be able to call my parents in. I don't really have parents to call.

So I took a chance and slid my book to you… Otherwise, I was afraid your dad would lose his temper again." Chapter 5 He suddenly snapped his head up, his gaze locking onto mine without blinking. "Hazel, I don't owe anyone favors.

What do you want?" What did I want?

I wanted his kind of "exhaustion"—partying day and night, barely keeping my eyes open, while the zeros in my bank account multiplied effortlessly.

Or, setting the bar lower, I just wanted to be a shameless parasite, coasting to the top and reaping all the rewards without putting in an ounce of real work.

But that wasn't the character I was playing right now.

I leaned back against the wall, the soft sunset spilling over my shoulders. "It's really not a big deal," I said, my voice light and indifferent.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed, his searching gaze dropping to the top of my head despite himself. I looked up, rising onto my tiptoes.

I suddenly leaned in close to him, slowly extending my hand— Nathaniel's Adam's apple bobbed.

He jerked back, his voice trembling. "What are you doing?" My eyes crinkled into a smile as I opened my palm. "I don't want anything. And I wasn't doing anything.

I just noticed a speck of dust on the collar of your haute couture shirt." Nathaniel stared blankly at the dust in my hand, a flicker in his eyes like he had just met his destined soulmate.

If he only knew, I had a pocket full of "destiny." Of course, he would never guess in a million years that I had actually passed out halfway through my homework last night from pure exhaustion.

With or without the textbook, I was getting thrown into the hall today regardless. I'll admit, I put a little extra effort into playing Nathaniel for those exclusive prep materials.

Word was, the Wall Street tycoon had personally tracked down the assessment board to create custom practice sets for him. Stuff you couldn't buy anywhere