My Rich Girlfriend Refused to Lend Me $3,000, So I Left Her

1: 1

Five years into our relationship, I asked my rich girlfriend to lend me three thousand dollars.

She turned me down without a second's hesitation.

Baby, three thousand is what I'd spend on one meal. I can give it to you if I want, but you can't be the one asking for it. My family would look down on you.

I begged her through tears. "Grace, my mom's been in a car accident. The surgery fee is short by exactly this much. Please help me. I swear I'll pay you back."

Before I could finish, I heard the crack of a gavel on the other end of the line.

Then the auctioneer's sweet voice.

"Eighteen million! Congratulations to Ms. Rowe on winning this rare sapphire ring."

The call cut off.

Only then did I remember. She'd gone to an auction today, buying a birthday gift for her childhood friend.

A ring worth more than ten million. I couldn't even picture it, but it had to be prettier than the silver band on my hand.

She was afraid I was after her money.

Fine. Then I didn't want her money, and I didn't want her either.

I pulled the silver ring off my finger and threw it in the trash.

It was the token Grace and I had exchanged when we started dating.

A hundred-dollar silver band, so cheap it was almost laughable, and yet I'd worn it all this time like it was priceless.

Back then she'd said, "Morton Delgado, bear with it for a while. I'm scared that if I give you something too expensive, my family will get the wrong idea, that you're only with me for the money."

I'd been so lost in the joy of being in love that I just wrapped my arms around her and kissed her like a fool.

"It's no hardship. It's you I want, not your money."

Too bad Grace never believed that line.

Five years together, and in her eyes I was still a man who chased money and despised the poor.

Just then my phone lit up. A news alert popped onto the screen.

Grace Rowe Spends Millions on Sanchez Heir's Birthday, Childhood Sweethearts Rumored to Be Marrying

I wiped my eyes dry and pulled up a text thread.

You said before that if I agreed to break up, you'd give me some money. Does that still stand? I only want three thousand.

The reply came almost instantly.

Of course it stands. What's your account number? I'll transfer it right now.

Clean and quick. Not one wasted word.

Soon a deposit hit my account. A full three hundred thousand.

I stared at the number for a long time, then sent Grace a message.

Let's break up.

She didn't reply. Probably busy comforting her sick childhood sweetheart.

I dumped every one of her contacts into the block list, packed my suitcase, and booked a ticket home for first thing tomorrow morning.

At ten that night, Grace came home.

She slid her arms around my waist and rose onto her toes to kiss me.

I shoved her away hard.

"Grace, didn't you see the text? We've already broken up."

Grace pulled her hands back, her face darkening.

"Morton, be good. So I didn't give you the money this afternoon, so what? It was only three thousand. Don't throw a tantrum at me. Once you've married into the Rowe family, you'll have far more than that to spend."

I dragged the corner of my mouth into a bitter smile. "Right. I understand now. I won't ask you for money ever again."

Grace ran her fingers over my throat, smiling. "That's more like it. With your background, you're not even good enough to marry into the Rowes. If you want to marry me without any trouble, you have to give my family nothing to criticize. So before the wedding I can't spend a single cent on you, or they'll assume you're just a freeloader."

I pulled free of her clinging embrace, a deep helplessness rising in me.

Here it was again.

Every time we hit a conflict, Grace said the same thing.

In college I worked part-time to cover my living costs, and a modeling agency wanted to sign me. They promised an A-level contract. Grace said parading around in front of cameras was too humiliating, that there was no way she'd marry some performer.

So I gave it up. And a guy who signed around the same time is walking international fashion runways now.

After graduation I made it through five rounds of interviews into a top architecture studio. I was pulling all-nighters constantly, and she pushed me to quit, said the late hours were ruining my health and would leave me no good for taking care of a family after marriage.

So I switched to a nine-to-five with no shot at promotion.

Five years of dating, and every single time Grace said she'd marry me, it came attached to some harsh condition.

And for the chance to marry her, I backed down again and again.

Until now.

I looked her in the eye and said it plainly. "Grace, I don't want to get married anymore. Your family's way out of my league!"

Grace frowned.

She was about to speak when her phone rang with Theodore's personal ringtone.

2: 2

Grace took the call and glanced at me.

"Fine, understood. I'll bring him over right now."

Something in me went cold. I took two steps back.

She reached out and blocked me.

"Morton, come to the hospital with me, now. You're a match for Theodore Sanchez. He needs your bone marrow."

I thought I'd misheard. Warily, I asked, "When was I ever tested? Why don't I know anything about it?"

Her eyes flickered, and she looked away, guilty.

"When you went for your checkup the other day, I had the doctor run it while they were at it. You know Theodore has a blood disease. He's been searching for a donor. Your blood types matched, so I asked the doctor to try."

The whole thing was absurd. I raised my voice at her. "Theodore has framed me over and over, and now he wants me to save him? Dream on!"

Grace's face soured.

"Morton, I'm doing all of this for you! My family and the Sanchezes go back generations. Once you've donated your marrow to Theodore, my mother will find out, and she'll definitely agree to us being together. After that"

I cut her off, my eyes red.

"Grace, there is no 'after that.' We already broke up!"

I stood and went for my suitcase.

Grace gave a cold snort and kicked it over.

Clothes spilled across the floor.

She stared at me, her voice vicious. "I haven't agreed. You think you can just leave?"

Her bodyguards tied me up and hauled me to the hospital.

When Theodore saw me, he raised an eyebrow, pleased with himself.

"Morton, looks like we really are fated. Not only do we love the same person, our marrow's a match too."

Something in that smile made my skin crawl, and I backed away without thinking.

Grace pulled me still.

"Don't be scared. Donating marrow is just drawing a little blood. It won't kill you."

Theodore lifted the corner of his mouth, and behind Grace's back he mouthed at me: You're dead.

A chill ran through me.

I thought of my mother lying in the operating room, and I begged Grace in despair.

"Grace, for the five years we were together, please let me go! My mother was in a car accident. They're still fighting to save her. I need to be with her."

Grace hesitated for a second.

Theodore's expression shifted. He took her hand and looked at her, wounded.

"Grace, Morton has a younger brother. His mother has people to look after her. But the doctors said I have two months left at most. He's my last hope. Can you really stand by and watch me die?"

Grace patted his back, soothing him.

"Don't be upset. I'll save you, I promise."

Theodore leaned into her arms, his eyes rimmed red, and said to me gently,

"Morton, I'm sorry. I gave you trouble before because I really do love Grace. But don't worry. As long as you're willing to donate your marrow this time, I won't fight you for her anymore. I hope the two of you are happy from here on out."

I shook my head, frantic.

Then I heard Grace say, "Hurry up and thank Young Master Sanchez. Once you've saved him, we'll finally be able to get married."

I couldn't believe my ears. I pointed at Theodore, furious. "I donate my marrow to him, and you want me to thank him? I think you're the one who's sick!"

Grace sighed and gripped my hand tightly.

"Morton, stop being so difficult. Someday you'll understand everything I went through for you."

Two doctors stepped forward, and a needle of anesthetic went into my neck.

I passed out. When I woke, I found myself alone in a hospital room, and right on schedule a doctor came in and injected me with something.

In the middle of the night, I thrashed on the bed in pain, and then I heard two people talking in low voices at the door.

"God, of all the people this Morton could've crossed, he had to cross the Sanchez heir. Let me tell you a secret. That match report was forged by Theodore. His marrow wasn't a match at all. The real donor is actually someone else."

"That explains it. His checkup came back showing anemia. He doesn't even qualify for a marrow transplant."

"Shh, don't let anyone hear. Young Master Sanchez is drawing his blood to teach him a lesson. That's what he gets for stealing another man's fiance."

Their voices faded down the hall.

My mind went blank. I clenched my teeth against the pain cutting through me, and the tears came without a sound.

3: 3

Five days later, Grace finally showed up.

She handed me a bunch of lilies.

"Morton, the transplant's this afternoon. Don't worry, I've lined up the best doctors for you. It'll only take a few hours and it'll be over."

The scent of lilies makes me break out.

Theodore's the one who likes them.

But I couldn't afford to care about any of that now. Clinging to my last shred of hope, I grabbed a fistful of her sleeve.

"Don't go! Please, save me! Theodore's trying to hurt me. His type doesn't match mine at all. Go check the doctors' test results for me, please?"

When she'd heard me out, her face suddenly darkened.

"Morton, Theodore is dying, and not only do you refuse to save him, you want to frame him too."

I tried to defend myself. "It's true. I heard the doctors talking. He forged the test report."

I didn't expect her eyes to fill with nothing but disappointment.

"Morton, I see now how selfish you really are. You're so eaten up with jealousy you'd stand by and watch Theodore die. The Morton Delgado I fell for was kind, someone with drive. The man you are now is ugly enough to sicken me."

I fought to explain.

"Grace, I've never once lied to you. Why won't you believe me, just this once?"

But she cut me off, pulling out a photo and flinging it in my face.

"Enough! I already had it checked. Your mother was never sick. For a lousy three thousand dollars, you'd curse your own mother with your whole heart, then lie through your teeth to trick me. Morton Delgado, you're greedy and stupid both. For money, is there anything you wouldn't do?"

The sharp edge of the photo sliced open my cheek.

I didn't care about the cut. I snatched the photo up, and the tears came all at once.

In it, my mother was walking my little brother to school, her smile as bright as the sun, and the date printed in the corner was yesterday.

I pressed a hand to my chest and murmured, "It isn't like that. That day I got a call from the hospital saying my mom was in a car accident, in the ER, and they needed money right away."

Grace rose to her feet, looking down at me, her voice cold.

"I don't believe a single word coming out of your mouth now."

"You wanted to break up, didn't you? You've got your wish. Once you've given Theodore his marrow, I'll give you a breakup settlement."

4: 4

The surgery lasted three full days.

The first time, the doctors said the transplant had failed, so they went straight into a second operation.

I thought I'd die on that cold operating table. Somehow, I pulled through.

The day I was discharged, I went back to the mansion alone to get my things. Inside, a lavish party was underway, celebrating Theodore's recovery.

Grace and her friends sat clustered together, laughing about me.

"There's a reason people say to marry your own kind. Men like Morton Delgado, dragged up out of some backwater, they're low and cheap right down to the bone. They see money and they can't help themselves."

"Don't ever say his name in front of me again. Just thinking about him makes me sick."

Her tone was pure contempt, like she was talking about a heap of garbage.

Standing outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, I pressed a hand to my mouth and started coughing.

Theodore saw me.

He narrowed his eyes and murmured something into Grace's ear.

A moment later he pushed the door open and walked over to me, the sapphire ring on his finger glinting hard.

I lifted my head. My face was bloodless from all I'd lost.

Theodore held up a bank card and waved it in front of me.

"This is Grace's breakup money for you. Guess how much is on it?"

I pressed my lips together. I already had a rough idea of the answer.

Theodore's mouth curled with satisfaction.

"Three thousand dollars! Ha. Five years as Grace's lackey, and this is all you scraped up in the end. Three thousand! Morton Delgado, you really are pathetic."

"But this is what you get for crossing me."

He opened his fingers. The card hit the floor.

My nails dug into my palms. My heart felt like it had been stabbed, a deep, tearing pain.

Five years ago, Grace fell for me at first sight.

Back then I'd just clawed my way out of the mountains on my SAT scores. Patched clothes, an outdated haircut, a clumsy accent when I spoke. All of it made me a target, and it left me insecure and thin-skinned.

But Grace, an heiress, set her pride aside and chased after me for half a year.

She tutored me in English, drove me to and from my part-time jobs, even sat up all night at my bedside when I was sick.

She wore down the ice around my heart with nothing but sincerity.

I never imagined that five years on, she would cut me loose like this, in this humiliation.

I crouched down with a hand over my chest and picked up the card. The tears slipped free before I could stop them, splashing onto the back of my hand.

When I looked up, Grace was standing in front of me. I hadn't noticed her come over.

I straightened my spine, stopped looking at her, and turned to walk out.

Behind me, Grace said coldly:

"Morton Delgado, take the money and get out. Don't ever let me run into you again."

Something vicious flashed through my eyes.

I found the earlier message about the loan and typed a reply.

Fine. I'll marry you. But on one condition. I want the Sanchez family ruined.