The Heiress's Revenge Dumping My Gold-Digger Boyfriend

I hesitated before handing him the thousand dollars.

"Take it. You can't let yourself starve."

Scott pushed my hand away. "No, I can't spend my girlfriend's money. Don't worry about me, Ellie. I'm fine."

Fine—yet his stomach growled loud enough to echo off the walls. I knew the truth: he was rationing himself to one meal a day, terrified of depleting his funds.

My heart ached. I untied the red ribbon from a gift apple and wrapped it around the cash.

"Consider this my Christmas present," I said, pressing it into his palm. "Please. Just take it."

Tears welled in his eyes. He pulled me close, voice trembling against my ear. "Ellie, I swear... one day, I'll give you the life you deserve."

That became our pattern. Whenever Scott hit a rough patch, I covered him. In return, he'd act profoundly moved, shower me with affection, and stack promises about our future like bricks in a house we'd never build.

For two years, our Christmases had been frugal. But this year was different.

His parents were visiting, and I'd just received an unexpected windfall—an inheritance so massive it made winning the lottery look like pocket change.

I couldn't wait to share the news. I went on a shopping spree and booked a suite at a luxury hotel. Our days of struggle were finally over.

Full of anticipation, I arrived at the upscale restaurant we'd always dreamed of but could never afford. I sat in my reserved booth, scrolling through my phone, waiting for Scott's message that he'd picked up his parents.

The message never came. The people did.

The Whitney family walked in—but they weren't alone.

A fourth person accompanied them. A young woman. My breath caught when I saw her outfit. She was wearing the exact clothes I'd ordered online weeks ago—a package the tracking service claimed had been lost.

She linked arms with my boyfriend, chatting and laughing with his parents like she belonged there.

My first instinct was to storm over and demand answers. But doubt held me back. What if I'm misunderstanding? I swallowed the rising bile and sank lower in my seat.

The hostess led them to the booth directly behind mine. Only a high-backed bench separated us.

"Mom, Dad, why'd you bring Fanny today?" Scott's voice drifted over, hushed but clear. "Didn't we agree you wouldn't come on Christmas? I still need to coax some money out of Eleanor."

I froze. Coax money?

His mother's voice followed, cheerful and unbothered. "What are you afraid of? We brought Fanny so she could stay here a few days." Her tone sharpened. "Besides, we need to talk sense into you. Do not fall for that woman. What kind of background does she have?"

"Exactly," his father scoffed. "Her adoptive parents raised her until eighteen and then washed their hands of her. Yet she still sends them money every month to 'repay their kindness.' Stupid. Fanny's different—her family runs a business. They have connections."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Scott replied, dismissive. "Someone who grew up in that kind of environment... who knows how twisted her psychology is? I could never marry her."

The words hit like a blow. The air left my lungs.

It was true. My biological parents had abandoned me. My adoptive family had two children of their own; they provided for me until eighteen but made clear their obligation ended there. I was grateful, so I never asked for support in college.

When I'd first told Scott about my past, his reaction had been entirely different.

I remembered the way he'd looked at me—eyes full of tender heartache. It's okay, he'd said. After we graduate, we'll get married. You'll have a family forever.

To an orphan like me, that promise was more intoxicating than any declaration of love. My adoptive parents had always been honest about their bias toward their own children. I respected them, but I never felt I truly belonged.

Scott had promised to fill that void.

Now, hearing him call me "twisted" while plotting to drain my account, I felt the illusion shatter.