I Don't Want Your Heart, Just Your Money

Brother Asher, if that gold digger knew you were just betting on her, she would be devastated.

Asher scoffed. If it were not for Felicity, I would not look twice at that charity case.

They think I am clueless. They think I do not know about the ten million dollar bet. The one where the winner gets my nudes.

Asher is cosplaying as a pauper. He wants to test me. He expects me to run the moment I smell empty pockets.

Joke is on him. I am not going anywhere.

I will play the devoted girlfriend. I will take the hundreds of thousands his rival Cruz tips me and buy him trash from a street stall. Right in front of his face.

If they want to play with feelings, fine. I will play with their bank accounts.

Chapter 1

If beauty is a sin, I am serving a life sentence.

I am poor. Dirt poor. The year we almost starved, a scout found me. My face got me on a magazine cover. It got me my first paycheck. It was not enough.

After bills, we were still broke. We still needed three hundred grand for medical fees. That is why I am here.

The elite academy offered a full ride. No tuition for the charity case. Plus, the prize money for campus events is insane.

Day one. I started a stream. Daily Grind. I cranked the beauty filter to the max.

Someone took a screenshot. Now I am a joke on the school forum.

What does she actually look like? Drop the filter settings. The wall behind her is warping. Who is voting for this alien?

I saw her in person. She is actually hot. LOL, buying bots in the comments? I heard she is on scholarship. Which sugar daddy is buying her votes?

I checked the contest rankings. My alien face was sitting at number thirteen. Number one was Felicity. A sweet, candid shot in the library. Looking like an angel.

Then I saw the fine print. Top three get a hundred grand.

Game on.

I started a new stream. Filter at one hundred percent. Caption. Real beauty bends space and time.

The internet lost its mind. The hate comments rolled in. But the coffee shop was packed. Everyone wanted to see the freak show in real life.

Vanessa was thrilled. She banned photos inside the shop. If they wanted to see my face, they had to buy a coffee. Smart.

The forum was a war zone. One side called me ugly. One side called me hot. The trolls voted for me just for the chaos.

It worked. My warped, filtered face took first place.

Boom. One hundred grand in the first week.

Felicity stormed into the shop. She saw my face and snapped. You shameless little schemer.

She splashed her coffee over my head. Her pretty eyes were filled with venom.

Chapter 2

The crowd gasped. But no one moved. No one dared to cross Felicity. Her family practically owns this zip code.

A stack of bills rained down on me. Crisp hundreds fluttering like confetti.

Felicity sneered. "Take it, peasant. Watch your back."

I didn't flinch. I didn't cry. I bent down. I picked up the cash. Money is money.

I checked my phone. The stream was still live. Felicity thought she was dominating me. But on screen? The max-level beauty filter was warping her angry face. She looked like a distorted, screaming alien.

Every student in school was watching.

I reached out. I tapped the screen. Filter off. My real face appeared. No distortion. Just cold, hard perfection.

"Sorry, everyone," I said, voice trembling just enough. "Didn't mean for you to see that."

I am not a sweet girl. I am not kind. I am vengeful. I have seen these high school games a thousand times. They bore me.

The chat went silent for a second. Then the donations exploded. Everyone loves a victim who looks like a goddess.

Felicity wanted to play the elegant heiress. Instead, she gave me the best promo of my life. She was so pissed she skipped school for three days.

Vanessa, the manager, pulled me aside. "Listen, Ivy. The people here? They are untouchable. You are just a scholarship kid. You cannot afford to make enemies."

I nodded. I tugged at my sleeves, covering my wrists. "I know. My family needs the money. I will be careful."

Vanessa knows about my life. She knows about Gary. My gambling, abusive father. She knows about Linda. My sick mother.

She glanced at the faint, old scars on my arm. She sighed. "Sometimes," she whispered, "it pays to sell your misery. Play the victim."

I gave her a shy, practiced smile. "I just tell people I fell."

Selling misery now? Too obvious. Too desperate. It might backfire. I know these elites. They do not stop until they draw blood.

I need to save the victim card. That is my Ace. I will play it when it kills.

The hype from the contest died down. My stream numbers flattened. The chat started getting restless.

Ivy, watching you work is boring. Do a talent show. Don't be so stuck up. Just a pretty vase. Unsubbed.

The view count hovered around a hundred. Just the die-hard simps. I didn't panic. I stuck to the routine. I had a feeling Felicity was cooking up a "surprise."

Logic dictates that in a school like this, being poor makes you a unicorn. But today? I met three "poor" hot guys in a row. The math was not mathing.

Guy number one. Cruz. He gave me a sob story about being an orphan. While wearing a Chrome Hearts necklace worth my entire tuition.

Guy number two. Travis. The "broke senior." Faded shirt. Scholarship story. But he was walking in limited edition sneakers worth twelve hundred bucks.

Guy number three. Jude. No logos. Generic clothes. But when I mentioned Temu, he looked at me like I was speaking Latin. He didn't know what a coupon code was.

Abnormal. Suspicious. Red flags everywhere.

I gave them all the cold shoulder. I turned the corner toward the coffee shop. I heard voices. Familiar voices.

What a coincidence. The three "broke" guys I just rejected were all sitting together.

Chapter 3

"Felicity called it. Ivy is a gold digger. She definitely hates poor people. I tried to confess my undying love today, and she shut me down instantly."

"I got rejected too. Who does she think she is? Acting all high and mighty. She just wants a sugar daddy."

"Tsk. Same here. I asked her to click a Temu link for me. I told her I couldn't afford the full price. She didn't even look at me. Just walked away."

The bell chimed. A pair of long legs stepped into the caf. Asher. He is the tallest. Six-foot-two of pure arrogance.

He caused a riot the day he transferred here. Rich, handsome, and driving a supercar that costs more than this building.

Felicity trailed behind him. She was wearing a modest, ladylike dress. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"I cannot believe she is the school beauty," she sobbed. "It is humiliating!"

"I told you she was trash, and you didn't believe me. You had to go and test her. Now do you believe me?"

"You have to help me expose her!"

Asher smirked. He pulled her into his arms. "How do you want us to help?"

Felicitys voice was sweet, but the words were pure poison. "Ivy is too pretty and too poor. There is no way she grew up like that without help. She definitely has men on the side."

"I saw marks on her body. She says she fell, but those are hickeys. She is dirty."

"We need to reveal her true colors. Then we take nudes of her and post them on the school forum."

They laid out the plan. It was detailed.

Asher is the bait. He uses his money to hook me. Then, in a month, he fakes bankruptcy. While he plays the broke loser, the other three stooges will swoop in.

They will reveal they are actually rich. They will try to buy me. They will trick me into sleeping with them and taking photos. Finally, Asher posts everything online.

Proof that I am a cheating gold digger. Role cemented. Reputation destroyed.

The trust fund babies opened a betting pool. Ten million dollars to the first one who gets my nudes.

Ashers eyes were cold. He looked bored. "Zero challenge," he drawled. "What if she actually falls in love with me? It is a pain to shake off a clingy desperate girl."

Travis patted his shoulder. "Relax, bro. Gold diggers only love cash. She won't care about you."

I stood around the corner. Listening. I smiled.

Game on, boys.

Chapter 4

The next day. The group was back in the coffee shop. I changed my outfit. I wore a white spaghetti strap dress. Simple. Innocent. The perfect "pure little white flower" look.

I held a tray with a steaming cup of coffee. I timed it perfectly. I pretended to trip.

Oops.

I slammed right into Asher. The hot liquid splashed over his chest. Asher hissed in pain. He bared his teeth.

He looked ready to kill, but then he noticed his "bros" had all scrambled away to avoid the splash damage. He looked down. He saw my face. His pupils contracted. He recognized me.

I panicked. Fake panic. I reached out to wipe the coffee off his shirt, moving my hands clumsily. I let the ceramic cup slip from my fingers.

Smash.

It landed directly on the toe of his Italian leather shoe. Asher groaned.

I forced tears into my eyes until they were red and brimming. I looked up at him. Trembling. Pathetic.

"I am so sorry! Your shoes... are they expensive?"

I bit my lip. "I just got my wages today. I... I don't know if my part-time money is enough to pay you back."

The rest of the guys were watching. Like vultures waiting for the show to start.

Asher gritted his teeth. He forced a gentlemanly smile through the pain. "Not expensive. Just twelve grand."

He waved a hand. "Don't worry about the money. Would you do me the honor of letting me buy you a coffee?"

I froze. I acted stiff. Overwhelmed. I glanced at his shoes. Twelve thousand dollars? I didn't recognize the brand. Custom made?

Asher didn't waste time on the setup. He was lazy. He went straight for the "love at first sight" script. He "accidentally" dropped his Ferrari key on the table.

Clatter.

Just in case I missed the smell of money.

I put on my best innocent, starstruck smile. "Okay."

Asher shot a smug look at his friends. Hooked.

He launched a high-profile offensive. Imported roses delivered to class. Supercar pickups. A mountain of luxury gifts.

I saw the coldness in his eyes when he looked at me. I ignored it. I took everything. I accepted every single gift. I sent him daily "I love you" texts.

But I kept my schedule. I worked my shifts. I did my streams.

Asher was relieved I didn't have time to cling to him. He sent fake concern via text.

Don't work too hard, babe. I will take care of you.

Sure you will.

I was currently sweating inside a giant, plush bear mascot costume. I was handing out flyers on the street corner. I spotted them. The familiar group.

I waddled after them. Slowly. They were talking loudly. Plotting. They didn't notice the giant bear lurking three feet away.

Asher was bragging. "So much for the Ice Queen. I crooked my finger and she came running."

"Did you see that yesterday? I didn't even have to try. She threw herself at me in that little camisole."

The other rich boys laughed. "She has good eyes," one said. "She spotted the biggest whale in the ocean. You must be spending a fortune, Asher."

Asher clicked his tongue. "Peanuts. The bags I gave her? All fakes. She is just a gold digger. You think she knows the difference? She wears knockoffs herself."

"Just don't let Felicity catch you."

Asher grinned. A cruel, twisted smile. "Give it a few weeks. I will tell her I am three million in debt. Let's see how long the 'true love' act lasts then."

Cruz raised a brow. "When that happens, who do you think she will jump to first? Me?"

Jude sneered. "Maybe she will take all of us. As long as the check clears."

"Don't get mad, Brother Asher. We are just looking out for Felicity."

Asher scoffed. "Who cares about her? I never said she was my girlfriend."

The rest of the rejects were still bitter. I had ignored them while "dating" Asher. It bruised their fragile, elite egos. Now they were doubling down. They needed to believe I was a slut. It was the only way to cope with the rejection.

I adjusted my heavy bear head. I pretended to be just another passing mascot. I walked right up to them. I shoved a flyer into each of their hands.

Mirror-Quality Chanel Gabrielle. 1:1 Superfake. 0-0,500. Top Tier. Indistinguishable from authentic.

Chapter 5

Asher patted my padded shoulder. He smirked at his friends.

"I got the bag from this place. Even Felicity couldn't tell the difference at first glance. That gold digger Ivy was over the moon when she got it."

The rest of the group perked up.

"We should do the same," Cruz said. "Send her fakes to reel her in."

"Buy a few," Jude added. "Make sure the styles are different."

"She loves money so much," Travis laughed. "She is going to have a heart attack when she finds out they are worthless."

I pulled out my phone inside the suit. I logged into my burner Snap account. I added all of them.

These arrogant princes didn't care who was inside the sweaty bear suit. They just wanted their props. They picked their bags. They ordered me to deliver them to their dorms.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

My bank app notified me ten times. 0-0,500. 0-0,500. 0-0,500. I didn't realize making money was this easy.

I turned around and messaged my supplier. The real fake bag seller. I transferred ten payments of 0-050. Boss, rush order on these models.

I made a net profit of 0-03,500 in ten minutes. Easy. Money.

This school is crawling with heirs. You can't throw a rock without hitting a trust fund. Asher was hiding his identity. Now the whole school knew there was a mysterious, wealthy student chasing the poor scholarship girl.

I took the fake bag Asher gave me. I placed it in the most obvious spot in my dorm room.

Sydney, my roommate, is actual old money. She looked at the bag. She sneered. "That bag looks off. Some poor guys really know how to pretend."

The lettering on the fake was slightly flattened compared to her authentic one. I let my face pale. I looked down at my shoes.

"Actually, I don't care about his money. It is just... this is the first time a boy has liked me this much."

Sydney scanned me from head to toe. She rolled her eyes. "Hopeless romantic. You are brainless."

She tossed a bag at me. "Whatever. I'm too lazy to do this assignment. Finish my essay, and you can have this one."

It was a real Chanel.

I gave her a sweet, naive smile. "Thank you, Sydney!"

She blushed. "Wipe that sycophantic smile off your face. I am only looking out for you because I hate Felicity."

She lowered her voice. "Word on the street is that the last girl who offended Felicity ended up with severe depression. If anything happens, don't hide it."

I nodded obediently. "I won't."

These elites have seen plenty of beautiful women. I knew a pretty face wasn't enough to make them fall. I needed data.

I used my burner account to stalk the "poor" rich boys' socials. I analyzed their likes. Their hobbies. They all went to the same prep school as Asher.

When they bought the fake bags from me, they all asked what model Asher bought. Then they ordered more expensive ones. It was a pissing contest.

There is a benefit to men pretending to be poor. I don't have to bow and scrape. I don't have to serve them. I just have to sprinkle a little affection.

I confirmed their weird, competitive jealousy toward Asher. I changed tactics. I stopped ignoring the three stooges. I secretly accepted their friend requests.

Chapter 6

They were confused. According to the script, the gold digger only bites when the wallet opens. I wasn't supposed to add them until they flashed the cash.

But these guys? Zero moral code. No shame.

One minute they were roasting me in the group chat for being a leech. The next, they were sliding into my DMs with greasy confessions. Anything to win the bet.

They pulled out all the stops to get close to me. My phone was flooded with thirst traps. Angles. Abs. Jawlines.

It was visually pleasing. And low maintenance. Since they were cosplaying poverty, they couldn't flex their wallets. Their bodies were the only currency they could spend on me.

The day I said "yes" to Asher. I sent a mass text to the three stooges. Copy. Paste. Send.

Actually, I really like you. But I was too poor. I didn't want to drag you down into my poverty. That is why I rejected you. But now? Now I have a way to take care of you!

I got three replies instantly.

First, Cruz. The Chrome Hearts hypocrite. He sent a voice note. His voice was dropped an octave lower than natural. Trying to sound like a dominant alpha.

You are with Asher now. What, you want me to be your side piece?

Ugh. He sounded like a tractor engine struggling to turn over. I typed back.

Just wait until I make enough money. I will dump him and be with you. I made fifty bucks streaming today. Babe, your clothes look so ragged. It hurts my heart. I bought you a new outfit.

I opened the shopping app. I found a "100% Cotton" t-shirt. Price: $0.80. Sent.

Next was Jude. The guy who pretends he doesn't know what a coupon is. He texted back cold.

I don't help people cheat.

I switched tactics. Psychological warfare. He has a broken family. I played the nurturer.

I'm sorry. If you hate it, I won't bother you again. Actually, that breakfast on your desk? I left it there. I was worried you were starving. You are too thin. Please, just eat properly.

He stared at the cold bun and the sticky note on his desk. Silence. Then, a notification.

It's not cheating if you don't love him.

Finally, Travis. The guy with the expensive sneakers. He had just finished basketball practice. He sent a sweaty selfie.

Babe, how exactly are you planning to support me?

I sent a photo of my hands making a heart shape.

I am using Asher's money to take care of you. My job pays too slow. He is rich. Once I drain him dry, I will break up. I just bought you new shoes. I will buy you better ones soon.

Travis looked at the photo. He cursed under his breath. He saved the picture as his lock screen. He quickly turned off his phone before his teammates could see.

Wow. So much for brotherhood. Plastic loyalty. Not a single one of them told Asher.

Chapter 7

By my calculations, Ashers "bankruptcy" was scheduled for any day now.

I went live. Different vibe today. I switched from "hardworking student" to "lovestruck girlfriend." Pink bubbles everywhere.

I shared sweet, fabricated details about our relationship. The chat was eating it up. Except for the usual hater.

YY: Streamer, be real. You are only with him for the money.

I forced a blush. I looked into the camera with wide, sincere eyes. "He has qualities that are worth way more than money. Even if he was broke, I would still love him."

System Notification: AAA Cruz sent a Rocket.

I immediately texted Cruz under the desk.

Babe, some rich guy just tipped me a Rocket! I can buy you new clothes again. Do you want to wear matching outfits?

Cruz: Huh?

I smiled at the camera. "Hold on a sec, guys."

I stepped out of frame. I changed into a white T-shirt. It was the same one I sent Cruz. The eighty-cent special. It was oversized. The hem barely skimmed the top of my thighs.

I checked the tracking. Delivered. I texted him again.

Babe, your package just arrived. Open it. Wear it for our date tonight?

On the other side of campus, Cruz boredly ripped open the package. He saw the cheap cotton shirt. Then he looked at his screen. He saw me wearing the exact same shirt. His face exploded in red.

Cruz: Put some pants on before you go outside.

I pretended I didn't see it. I picked up a guitar. I sat on the stool, legs crossed, and strummed the opening chords to "Love Story." The stream view count spiked.

I finished the song with a shy smile. "Thanks to AAA Cruz for the tip. I hope you guys liked the talent show."

YY: I thought your family was poor. Where did you get the money for music lessons?

Top Donor AAA Cruz: Quit barking. Just listen to the song.

I set the guitar down. "I used to sing at the shop to attract customers," I explained softly. "The owner taught me."

"I have to go return this to the music club now. I just borrowed it for a bit. Maybe I can play for you guys again later."

The guitar actually belonged to Cruz. He was the one tipping me the most. After I finished speaking, Cruz dropped nine more Rockets. Back to back.

One Rocket is worth about five thousand dollars. After the platform takes its fifty percent cut? I just netted over twenty thousand dollars. Cash.

Suddenly, there was a noise at the door. Asher.

He stood there, eyes dark. He stared at my legs. He looked annoyed. He hates this style. Too much skin. He likes the "ladylike" look. Modest. Conservative. Like Felicity.

Not my problem. I didn't ask him to chase me.

I shifted the camera angle. I aimed it right at him. I launched myself into his arms. I took the roses he brought, buried my face in them, and then kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, baby! I have to go return this guitar."

Asher glanced at the guitar. It looked familiar. But he didn't care enough to think about it.

I blinked up at him. "Want to walk me there?"

Chapter 8

The sky was getting dark. Asher glanced out the window. He gave a cold, detached "Mm."

Out of all of them, Asher is the coldest. He plays the role of the aloof prince too well.

Cruz came rushing out of the dorms. He was wearing the new T-shirt. He was surrounded by a cloud of cologne. He walked fast, heading straight for me.

He flashed that signature playboy smile. The one that usually makes girls melt. I cut him off before he could speak.

"Sorry, something came up. Can you return this guitar to the club president for me?"

I shoved the guitar case at him. Cruzs smile froze. "Why?"

He looked past me. Asher was standing right behind me. His face was a mask of dark water. He recognized the guitar. It was Cruzs.

A flicker of doubt crossed Asher's eyes. According to their little script, Cruz wasn't supposed to be here.

Cruz clicked his tongue. He saw Asher. He smirked. "Oh. Company."

He had zero shame about being the side piece. He strutted in a circle in front of Asher. He patted Asher on the shoulder.

"What a coincidence, bro. Matching shirts with your girlfriend tonight. Don't be mad."

Their eyes locked. Sparks flew. Invisible lightning.

Cruz adjusted the guitar strap. He walked away, looking effortless and unbothered.

Asher sensed something was wrong. He grabbed my wrist. Hard. "Let's go."

His grip was tight. It hurt. I forced my eyes to rim with red tears. I looked up at him