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Eaten His Childhood Sweetheart's Cake, I'm Hated as a Gold Digger Novel Cover

Eaten His Childhood Sweetheart's Cake, I'm Hated as a Gold Digger

On the night of her engagement party, a woman's intoxicated fiancé announces that he has prepared a special surprise for her. The atmosphere shifts when a delivery courier arrives bearing a cake, prompting eager guests to quickly devour the dessert to uncover the hidden secret. The protagonist joins in, noticing absolutely nothing unusual about the sweet treat until the very last bite is finished.
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Chapter 4

[Vivian, it must be hard to be a rat that everyone wants to beat, right? If you still want to live a life of luxury, then find a way to return the one million dollars to me and sign a sponsorship agreement, promising to be my kept woman in the future.]

[As long as you get the money, break up with that sponsor, and help me and Sophie have children, I will support you for the rest of your life.]

[Otherwise, you will be a street rat for the rest of your life, unable to even leave the house! ]

He doesn't know that I have ten thousand ways to make him a pariah.

It's too cheap to get too entangled with this kind of garbage, so I rudely replied to him with one word:

【roll!】

But unexpectedly, he came to my little-known villa with four bodyguards!

When the surveillance camera prompted me that someone was entering the password, I thought to myself, this is not good.

After all, we have been in love for three years. Evan figured out my password in one go and rushed in.

Our eyes met, and he looked at me with disdain as I just finished my bath;

"Vivian, you told me to get lost, but you waited for me to come to you so that you could seduce me. You are such a slut!"

I reminded him that he had broken into the house illegally.

But he pushed me away with a sneer and went straight to visit my villa.

"How many wealthy people did you defraud to be able to afford Riverbend Villa? Could this be the surprise you mentioned earlier?"

He proudly picked up the Qing Dynasty Doucai porcelain vase on the antique shelf and sneered:

"It looks very similar to the original, but it's a pity that fake is fake."

Then he pointed to the splashed-color lotus on the wall:

"It's such a bad imitation that it would be disrespectful to have it at home! But the signature looks like the original."

"Evan has a good eye."

I clapped and chuckled.

This is a painting I copied from a master when I was in elementary school. It is the only fake one in my house.

But because it is signed by the master himself, it is comparable to the real thing.

Evan thought I was mocking him, and his eyes suddenly became sinister.

He took a document from his assistant and threw it on the coffee table:

"Sign it, and I'll give you $100,000 every year."

I raised my eyebrows and looked at the document, which was filled with dense clauses.

One of the clauses clearly stated that I was willing to bear three sons and three daughters for him and Sophie in the future, and that I was not allowed to assert any parental rights.

What does he take me for?

I raised my hand and tore up the agreement without hesitation.

He was also quite patient, as if he expected me to tear it up, and handed me another copy:

"Tear it slowly, I have plenty here!"

"But I hope you understand one thing. You have already used up all your youth. It is impossible for a sponsor to be deceived by your reputation now."

"They might think you're dirty, so they'll kill you quietly."

"It's only because I'm sincere to you that I'm willing to support you because of your infatuation with me. Otherwise, it's hard to say whether you can live to see tomorrow!"

Seeing that I stopped tearing up the agreement, he thought I was scared, so he held my hand and started to sign my name:

"You just worship money, don't you? Sign these..."

He pointed at the "fakes" all over the room and said confidently:

"If you help Sophie and I have a child, I'll reward you with the price of a genuine item."

I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

The Foster Family was just a new rich in Metropolis City, and they couldn't even buy the autograph on the splash-color lotus that he sneered at.

Not to mention those rare items, any one of which costs at least 50 million.

I pulled my hand away and wanted to tell him that he was a frog in a well, but the assistant behind him suddenly whispered:

"Evan, this Doucai looks familiar, a bit like the finale of the last auction..."

Evan was stunned, then picked up the Doucai again to examine it carefully.

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