They Called Me a Gold Digger—Until They Learned the Trut

Blake picked up the plum vase and examined it with a mocking smile.

“Gabriel, you really went all out trying to play the rich guy, huh? Even had a high-end replica made this realistic?”

But the moment the top-tier lawyer—Phoebe’s so-called gold-medal legal consultant—got a proper look at the vase, her expression shifted. Adjusting her gold-rimmed glasses, she stepped forward for a closer inspection.

However, the next second, m a piercing shatter echoed through the living room.

Blake slammed the vase onto the floor.

The Song Dynasty plum vase—worth one hundred twenty million dollars—was now nothing but dust and shards.

I froze.

Even Phoebe looked stunned for a second before shooting him an annoyed glare.

“Blake, stop messing around! Even if it’s just a replica, that thing was worth a decent amount!”

Blake pouted, his eyes red with emotion. “Miss Wright, it’s obvious Gabriel is never going to pay you back. I smashed a fake on your behalf, to help you vent! And now you’re blaming me?”

Right in front of me, Phoebe’s expression softened. She gently comforted him, “I’m not blaming you. I just wanted him to cough up the five hundred thousand, so I could put a down payment on a small apartment for you.”

“My best employee deserves only the best.”

“Hopefully, someone around here will finally understand the gap between us and obediently sign those agreements. After all, the line of men who want to marry into my family could wrap around the entire city.”

She shot me a look full of smug implication.

I rolled my eyes like I was looking at a pair of idiots. “Phoebe, do yourself a favor and find out who actually spent that five hundred thousand before you start accusing people. Otherwise, yeah—you’re right, people trying to drain your bank account really do stretch around New York.”

Blake visibly flinched, and tears started streaming down his face, this time with less performance and more panic.

Phoebe rushed to console him, flustered.

I’d had enough of their public display of twisted affection. My voice cut in, as I spat coldly, “Since you care so much about your employees, Miss Wright, I assume you’ll be the one compensating for that one hundred twenty million vase?”

She raised her foot and aimed to stomp the broken pieces even further.

“A fake like that? You expect me to pay for it? What, feeling heartbroken now? Didn’t you claim it was authentic? Didn’t you say you were rich? Then go buy another one!”

Blake wiped his tears instantly and puffed up like a rooster, looking triumphant.

But before her foot landed, the gold-medal lawyer dropped to her knees with a thud, arms out to block her.

“Miss Wright—if I’m not mistaken... that vase was real.”

Her words shut both Phoebe and Blake up instantly.

I blinked. Well, well. So the “gold-medal” lawyer actually had some expertise beyond legal jargon.

But in the next second, Phoebe shoved her aside and crushed the remaining shards under her heel.

“Lawyer Nelson, you’re paid to handle contracts—not antiques. You heard what they said—the real vase was bought by the richest man in New York for his son to use as a flower vase. As if that would ever end up in this house.”

Blake immediately gasped dramatically. “Unless Gabriel stole it from the richest man’s house?”

“Or wait... did he actually seduce the richest man himself?!”

I couldn't help but laugh at their ridiculous assumptions.

“Well, since we’re putting cards on the table, I'll tell you. The richest man in New York? That’s my dad.”

Phoebe and Blake locked eyes for a moment—then burst out laughing like it was the funniest joke they had ever heard.

“Oh wow,” Phoebe wheezed. “Gabriel, I know your family’s situation like the back of my hand. Your dad? New York’s richest man? Oh please—maybe your sugar daddy.”

Narrowing her eyes, she added, “So that’s how you swing, huh? You go both ways now?”

“Well, considering you’ve got connections like that, I suppose I could reconsider the breakup. You don’t even have to pay five hundred thousand anymore.”

“All I ask is that you sign these agreements and make sure your ‘father’ supports my family’s business annually”

“In return, I’ll make sure you and your sugar... I mean, father, can keep everything discreet.”