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

I never imagined Phoebe could be this shameless.

What did she take me for? Some pawn in a game of transactional marriage?

If not for this five hundred thousand dollar fiasco, I might’ve actually been fooled by her looks.

Phoebe scribbled the new, last-minute conditions directly onto the prenuptial agreement in front of me—terms she had clearly just made up on the spot.

“Gabriel, sign it,” she ordered coolly.

Blake instantly jumped in, panicking.

“Miss Wright, how could a man as reckless and indecent as him be worthy of marrying you?!”

“Besides, if he really had ties to the richest man in New York, someone that is obsessed with money, do you really think he’d eat at some cheap chain restaurant if he had access to that kind of wealth?”

“I’m telling you, he’s bluffing! He’s using that identity to scare you into marrying him. Don’t fall for it!”

Phoebe hesitated. Then sighed, as if it were all out of her hands.

“Blake, even if he is a gold-digger, once he signs this, he won’t escape my control after the wedding.”

“And you know—if I don’t marry him, my dad won’t hand over the Wright family shares to me.”

So that was it.

She never wanted to marry me—she just needed me to get something else.

And as for Blake’s desperate attempts to block the marriage—I was already beginning to suspect that secondary card had something to do with him.

Otherwise, how could a mere assistant be decked out in the latest high-end designer brands from head to toe?

I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one spending on that card.

I took the agreement she handed me and said calmly, “I’ll sign it—after we settle the five hundred thousand dollar bill.”

The so-called “gold medal lawyer” had already taken a mental inventory of the antiques in my home. The way she looked at me had changed—from earlier contempt to something closer to unease.

She’d probably figured out the truth. Maybe even started to believe who I really was.

And that’s exactly what I wanted—to make Phoebe eat her own words in front of the very people she brought to shame me.

I gave her a glance, and the lawyer—Ms. Rachel Nelson—rushed to speak.

“Miss Wright, you asked me here to verify the bill. I’m only handling that. If there's anything else, I’m not responsible for it.”

A flicker of unease flashed across Phoebe’s face, but she waved a hand anyway.

“Fine. Let’s go over it.”

Each item was checked. Every time something matched, the bodyguards combed through my house to find a duplicate.

Surprisingly, they actually found two pieces that resembled the high-end purchases on the card.

Rachel’s expression shifted again.

Blake, smug, looked ready to declare victory.

Then I spoke, slowly, “Phoebe, how many supplementary cards do you have?”

She answered without hesitation. “Only one—and I gave it to you.”

I glanced at Blake—his eyes dodged mine.

Bingo.

Without warning, I snatched his bag and dumped its contents onto the floor.

Sure enough—there it was.

A card identical to the one she gave me.

Blake panicked. He lunged for it, but I caught him with a sharp backhand across the face.

Then I handed the card to Rachel.

“Check this card. The truth should be out in no time.”

“If you uphold your professional integrity, I guarantee your career will take a major leap forward.”