Everyone Thought I Was a Gold-Diggger

At our engagement banquet, my fiancée—clearly drunk—sent a ninetynine dollar pocket money in the group chat and tagged me with a "Happy Birthday."

Since my birthday was coming up in a few days, I accepted it without thinking much.

Everyone took it as a sweet display of affection—the atmosphere in the private room was lively, filled with teasing and laughter.

But then, a man suddenly showed up, looking aggrieved.

"Wayne," he said, "that birthday pocket money from Jordyn was meant for me. She promised she'd send me 9,999 dollars, but I think her fingers slipped and she only sent ninety nine. Could you send it back?"

The room fell dead silent.

Only then did I realize... maybe Jordyn mistook me for her childhood sweetheart because we had similar profile pictures.

Trying to be generous, I sent Garrett a hundred dollars—added an extra dollar for the trouble—and even ordered a cake to apologize and send my best wishes.

But when Jordyn sobered up and saw the cake, she smashed it on the spot and screamed at me, "Wayne! Are you that desperate for money? You had the nerve to steal a measly ninety nine dollars?!"

"Good thing I was drunk and only sent ninety nine—if it had been 9,999, you'd probably crawl through the internet like a rabid dog just to get it!”

I calmly explained it was a misunderstanding. I had even returned the pocket money—with a onedollar bonus.

However, instead of calming down, Jordyn hurled a coin at my face, shouting that she wanted to break off the engagement. She even demanded I return every cent she had ever spent on me and give Garrett the full 99,999 dollars she originally intended as a birthday gift.

I sent her a meme of a “one billion dollars” check and said mockingly, "Fine! Let’s break off the engagement. Here’s a billion—wishing you two a lifetime of joy and children!"

She thought I was trying to weasel out of the situation, so she brought in her toptier lawyer to settle the financial score.

When everything was calculated down to the last cent, her face turned green.

——

"Wayne, what’s the meaning of this? Sending a meme instead of real money? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

It was supposed to be a happy occasion, and now it has turned into a farce. I was burning with anger, but I still tried to keep things civil.

"You tagged the wrong person, I accepted by mistake. I figured you were just drunk and confused. I even bought a cake to apologize—if that’s not sincere enough, then what is? You're the one demanding I send one hundred thousand dollars to another man—honestly, I should be calling the police for attempted extortion."

"You've barely spent a thousand dollars on me altogether, but you and I both know how much I’ve spent on you. I’m not even asking for it back. Just do me a favor and take your beloved Garrett and get out of my sight!"

But Jordyn refused to believe she had only spent a thousand dollars on me.

She whipped out her phone, logged into her shopping app, and began scrolling through the orders one by one.

"Wayne, since you want to act shameless, don’t blame me for being harsh!"

"Setting aside all the help I gave you before, just look at these purchases. Ever since I gave you access to my account, you spent five hundred thousand dollars in just half a month!"

"You must be used to leeching off others—now you’re even eyeing Garrett’s birthday money! I thought you were thrifty and hardworking, but it was all a damn act! You’re so obsessed with money, you’ve thrown away every shred of dignity, haven’t you?"

Before I could even respond, she passed her phone around to her friends.

Gasps echoed through the room as everyone stared at me like I was some monster.

"Wayne," someone muttered, "with spending habits like this, you’re basically a golddevouring beast!"

I grabbed the phone, skimmed through the list, and pointed straight at the two most recent orders.

"These two—29.9 dollars each—are the only ones I bought. And they were for Jordyn herself. Everything else has nothing to do with me."

But Jordyn just scoffed like I had told the joke of the year.

"Wayne, I didn’t expect you to be this shameless. I gave you my account, the purchases were all men’s items, and the shipping address was your apartment. If you didn’t buy them, who did—ghosts?"

"I pitied your hard life, so I didn’t care about the money before. But now you’re even trying to snatch Garrett’s ninety nine dollars birthday gift? Do you have no shame at all?"

I didn’t want to waste any more time arguing, so I pulled out my phone and showed her the list of luxury gifts I had bought for her, then asked coldly, "Then what about the things I bought for you? Shouldn’t you be the one paying me back?"

Jordyn took one glance at the screen—at the total order amount exceeding a million dollars—and actually laughed out loud in anger.

"Wayne, are you really this shameless? Do I need to broadcast to everyone here just how broke you used to be?"

"Let me be blunt. Those fake designer goods you bought? I didn’t even look at them. I tossed them in the storage room without a second glance. I didn’t throw them out because I couldn’t afford the embarrassment if someone found them."

"You think those knockoffs meant something? That money you used was charity—my charity! And now you have the audacity to send me a photoshopped screenshot and demand a refund?"

Hah. No wonder I’d never seen her wear the clothes or jewelry I’d given her. Turns out she dismissed them as fakes the moment they arrived.

All those carefully chosen gifts discarded without a thought. That hit a nerve.

I spread my hands, forcing a smile. "Since you clearly looked down on them, then returned them all to me. Every last one."

Honestly, I’d rather feed them to a dog than let her keep them.

But in this crowd, her words carried more weight. After all, the Ortiz family was a rising power in the industry, and I was just a scholarship kid she had “generously supported.”

The same people who had just been calling us a perfect couple now stared at me with open contempt.

"Miss Ortiz, thank goodness this was only an engagement. Imagine marrying him and then discovering he’s just a golddigger!"

"If I were you, I’d fire him immediately. Who knows, he’s probably stealing your company’s toilet paper too."

"Seriously. Anyone who can burn five hundred thousand dollars online shopping in two weeks will bankrupt your company in no time. Stay far away from men like him."

At that moment, Garrett took his cue. Eyes glinting behind a mask of sorrow, he grabbed Jordyn’s arm, tears welling in his eyes.

"Jordyn, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have had a birthday... If I hadn’t, maybe you and Wayne wouldn’t be fighting..."

He turned dramatically and bolted toward the door. Jordyn instantly pulled him back, wrapped her arms around his waist, and cooed, "How could this be your fault? I should be thanking you. If not for you, I never would’ve seen Wayne’s true colors!"

Then she turned to me, eyes full of disdain.

"Wayne, if you have even a shred of selfawareness, you’ll either get on your knees right now and apologize to Garrett—and send him a proper 99,999 birthday gift—or this engagement is off. And tomorrow, you can pack up and get the hell out of the company."

Everyone in the room turned to me, waiting for my reaction.

I met her gaze headon, calm and cool.

"Calling off the engagement? Sure, let's do that. But get on my knees? Send a birthday pocket money? Keep dreaming!"

My indifference made everyone suck in a sharp breath.

Garrett's eyes lit up with excitement, clearly itching to fan the flames.

Seizing the opportunity, he piled on with righteous indignation. "My god! How could someone be so ungrateful? Jordyn paid for your college education, and this is how you repay her?"

"All this over ninety nine dollar pocket money, and now your true self is exposed!"

"Do you have any idea how much you owe her? Even if you spent your entire life working like a mule, you’d never be able to repay her kindness!"

He could say whatever he wanted—I owed Jordyn nothing.

If anything, she was the one in debt to me.

"Jordyn, if you want to end things peacefully, return every single thing I gave you. As for work, I’ll submit my resignation immediately. But I expect to be paid what I’m owed. Don’t even think about skimming it, or I’ll file for labor arbitration."

"And regarding the money you spent on me, I’ll round it up and transfer one thousand back to you. Just in case your company goes under next week and you can’t even afford to eat."

Then, I posted screenshots of all my gift orders to the group chat.

After that, I initiated a one thousand dollar transfer, labeled specifically for her.

Then I turned around—and walked out without looking back.

Jordyn’s face darkened when she saw the gifts I had sent—each worth tens or even hundreds of thousands.

She yanked my wrist and snapped, “I don’t believe any of this is real! Don’t you dare leave—wait until I’ve had everything verified. I won’t be labeled as someone who bullies others!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I calmly pulled my arm free.

“Everything I gave you is authentic. And I expect the items you return to be just as real.”

With that, I walked away without looking back.

I figured once she opened those gift boxes and saw the labels for herself, she would realize just how ridiculously wrong she had been.

But instead, she blew up my phone with backtoback calls in the middle of the night.

When I didn’t answer, she lost it completely—sending dozens of 60second voice messages filled with rage.

“Wayne! What the hell did you do behind my back?! How else could you afford all this?!”

She demanded answers, obsessively chasing down the truth.

Obviously, she had already confirmed everything I gave her was genuine.

And now that she couldn’t deny it, she was trying to turn the tables.

I shut off my phone and went to sleep.

But the next morning, when I turned it back on, it was like the sky had fallen.

Jordyn had gone nuclear—she posted our story online, framing me as a golddigging scammer.

With my photo in hand, she went on a public hunt, looking for the “wealthy sugar mommy” who was supposedly bankrolling me.

In no time, I became the number one trending topic online—the infamous “kept man” everyone wanted to spit on.

My name, ID, phone number, even my address were dug up and plastered all over the internet.

My phone nearly exploded from the flood of hate messages.

But it didn’t stop there.

Somehow, my photo and number ended up on shady adult sites. The comments were disgusting.

Even worse, someone photoshopped my face onto naked male models and listed the images for sale—9.9 per download, complete with the tagline: [Guaranteed satisfaction or your money back.]

I didn’t hesitate—I went straight to the police.

But despite their best efforts, they couldn’t track the original source.

And because the incident had gone so viral, shutting down one shady site only caused the photos to spread to others like wildfire.

Even though I knew the images were fake, the whole thing made me feel sick to my core.

There was no doubt in my mind—this was all Jordyn’s doing.

Disgusted, I forced myself to call her.

But she’d vanished.

Before disappearing, though, she made sure to finish what she started—pulling every string she had in the industry to blacklist me.

Every résumé I sent out disappeared into a black hole. Not a single interview. Not a single call back.

At the same time, Jordyn was flaunting Garrett all over the place, taking him to highprofile events, business banquets, and media appearances.

On social media, Garrett even posted a photo of his new limitededition sports car with the caption.

[Forever touched by the kindness of my sweet childhood love~”]

The location tagged was an exclusive private membersonly club.

Jordyn commented below.

[Baby, you deserve only the best.]

That same night, I got a text from her.

[Wayne, if you want to keep living comfortably, pay back the five hundred thousand first. Then sign a contract agreeing to be my kept man and loyal lapdog.]

[As long as you behave and don’t start drama with Garrett, I’ll take care of you for life. Otherwise, forget about ever finding a job again.”]

I stared at the screen—and suddenly laughed.

Did Jordyn really think she could buy me?

Did she really believe that, with my background and capabilities, she was doing me a favor by “keeping” me?

The arrogance was almost amusing.

I didn’t bother arguing. I replied with a single word.

[Scram.]

I thought that would be the end of it.

But that night, Jordyn showed up at my apartment—with four bodyguards.

I was in the study, admiring a newly acquired antique blueandwhite porcelain vase, when the doorbell started ringing like an air raid siren.

I checked the security monitor—and there she was.

Her expression stormy, her arms crossed.

Behind her stood four men in black suits, radiating aggression.

"Wayne, I know you're home!"

"If you don’t open this door, I’ll have them break the lock!"

True to her word, Jordyn did what she said.

But I was already planning to confront her about the filthy rumors she had spread, so I switched on the monitor, got up, and walked to the door.

As soon as I cracked it open, Jordyn shoved her way inside with so much force that I stumbled backward and hit the ground.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the pain in my palm, and stared at her coldly as she barged in like some kind of thug.

“Finally done hiding?” she sneered, her gaze sweeping over the jade ornaments and authentic paintings adorning my living room. The more she saw, the darker her expression became.

“No wonder you never let me upstairs. You were hiding all this filth the whole time.”

I crossed my arms, silent.

She strode over to the desk, picked up the blueandwhite porcelain vase I hadn’t yet had time to put away, and scoffed.

"Looks like a decent replica—but a fake’s still a fake."

Then she pointed at the inkwash landscape on the wall.

"And that? Probably five dollars at a street market."

I clapped slowly, amused.

“Excellent eye, Miss Ortiz.”

That painting was, in fact, the only fake in the house—a copy I had done in middle school of a master’s work. My mother insisted on treating it like a treasure and hung it right between two genuine pieces.

Jordyn clearly thought I was mocking her. Her expression turned venomous as she snatched a document from her assistant and slapped it onto the coffee table.

“Sign this. I’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars a month.”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the contract. It was packed with clauses.

One of them clearly stated I would “willingly serve her and her future husband,” with no right to personal freedom.

What was this?

A slave contract?

Without hesitation, I tore it in half.

But she was unfazed, almost as if she’d expected it. Calmly, she handed over another copy.

“Rip all you want. I’ve got plenty more.” She shrugged. “But I hope you understand one thing—your going rate online is 99.9 dollars a night. Not even a full hundred.”

"I can’t imagine how many clients you’d need to serve just to make ten grand a month."

"Right now, your reputation is in the gutter. If it weren’t for our past, do you really think anyone else would’ve bothered with you?"

When I didn’t immediately rip the second contract, she stepped closer, pinched my chin between her fingers, and said with a smirk, “You love money, don’t you? If you sign this, I’ll buy you the real versions of all these little counterfeits.”

She gestured around the room, clearly confident in her delusion.

I burst out laughing.

I might not know everything about the Ortiz family’s assets, but I knew enough. Even one piece in my house could spark a bidding war.

And she had the audacity to claim she could “buy me the real ones.”

Just as I was about to speak, one of her bodyguards suddenly murmured behind her.

“Miss Ortiz, this porcelain vase looks familiar... isn’t it the centerpiece from that recent Sotheby’s auction?”

Jordyn froze, then picked the blueandwhite porcelain back up, inspecting it more closely.

That vase was a birthday gift from my mother just half a month ago—acquired at Sotheby’s for one hundred twenty million.

I watched as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Clearly, she was beginning to suspect the truth.

“No way... It can’t be. It has to be a highend knockoff!”

But then, as if remembering the fact that everything I’d ever gifted her was authentic, her expression faltered. She forced a laugh and said awkwardly,

“Where did you steal this from, Wayne? Or did you sweettalk some naive rich woman into giving it to you?”

She narrowed her eyes and added sharply, “If I remember correctly, the person who bought this piece was old enough to be your mother...”

I met her scornful gaze with indifference and said flatly, “You guessed right. She is my mother. She gave it to me to use as a vase.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” I said coldly, “take down everything you posted online—before my mother finds out. Otherwise, you won’t be able to handle the consequences.”

Jordyn burst out laughing, doubled over as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Wayne, do you even hear yourself?” she sneered. “Look at your pathetic self. I was the only one who didn’t mind slumming it with you, and now you’re dreaming of having a woman like that as your mother? Please. Even if you stripped naked and offered yourself to her, she wouldn’t spare you a glance.”

“And if I remember right, that woman is the most elusive billionaire in the capital—more myth than reality.”

At that point, I saw no reason to keep hiding it.

“You remembered correctly,” I said. “She is my mother.”

Her smile froze on her face.

One of her bodyguards gasped and whispered, “Miss Ortiz, maybe... Maybe this is all a misunderstanding. That porcelain piece... it really does look authentic.”

Jordyn’s face turned ashen. Still trying to keep control, she whipped out her phone and started recording a video of the porcelain vase before sending it to Garrett.

“Garrett, doesn’t your brother work at Sotheby’s? Ask him if this blueandwhite vase is the centerpiece item from that auction—the one that made headlines.”

“Oh, and bring the top lawyer I hired. We’re at Wayne’s house. I don’t care what it takes—today, I’ll make him admit he leeched off me. I refuse to believe I can’t break this lapdog!”

If she was begging to be humiliated, I was more than happy to oblige.

Ten minutes later, Garrett arrived with the lawyer in tow.

“Jordyn,” he said with forced solemnity, “my brother looked into it. That vase was really bought at the Sotheby’s auction—by the richest woman in the capital. Apparently, it was a birthday gift for her son. She said he could just… use it as a flower vase.”

“Oh, and my brother also said her son has his own private museum. It’s full of priceless antiques and rare treasures.”

Jordyn’s face twisted into a cold smile, as if she’d just caught me in a lie.

Turning to me with a mocking sneer, she said, “Don’t tell me this place is supposed to be that private museum.”

I nodded seriously.

Every single artifact in the display cases around us was fitted with a stateoftheart security system my mother had personally installed.

Well—except for the vase on the table.

Before I could explain, Garrett suddenly picked up the porcelain vase and started examining it with exaggerated care.

A wave of unease washed over me.

I rushed forward to stop him—but he fumbled it on purpose.

Crash!

The sharp, brittle sound echoed through the room as the one hundred twenty million dollar vase shattered into dozens of glittering shards across the floor.

My pupils dilated. My chest tightened like a fist was crushing my heart.

That vase was a onceinalifetime artifact—something my mother had won at auction just to celebrate my birthday.

The only one of its kind in the world.

“Are you hurt, Garrett?!”

Jordyn didn’t care about the priceless vase.

She rushed straight to him, eyes filled with concern, because a sliver of ceramic had grazed his leg, leaving a paperthin scratch.

Garrett’s eyes turned red with tears as he played the victim.

“I’m okay, Jordyn... I just couldn’t stand him lying like this. Pretending to be the billionaire’s son—he’s still trying to trick you.”

Jordyn hugged him and glared at me.

“Apologize to Garrett! Your cheap knockoff injured him. If you don’t, I’ll report you for intentional assault!”

Rage erupted in my chest.

I raised my hand and slapped Garrett across the face—hard.

“You smashed my property and dared to slander me? You want to see what a real assault looks like?”

Jordyn lost it.

She kicked me hard, knocking me to the ground.

Shards of porcelain tore open my palm, but I didn’t even flinch.

She glanced at Garrett’s swollen cheek, still furious, and turned to start destroying the rest of my collection.

But the moment she touched one of the genuine antiques, the security system activated.

A surge of electricity crackled through her body—zapping her so hard she collapsed to the floor in spasms.

She stared at me, wideeyed and breathless.

“Wayne... Are you insane?! Using a highend security system... on a bunch of fake junk?!”

I forced down the burning rage in my chest and said coldly:

"Jordyn, if you had even a shred of common sense, you’d realize everything here is real."

"You care so much about your precious childhood sweetheart—so if he smashed my antique, does that mean you’re going to pay for it?"

"Pay?" Jordyn laughed like she’d just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. “You expect me to pay for a fake? Honestly, you should thank Garrett for smashing it—saved you the embarrassment of showing off more counterfeit junk.”

As she spoke, she raised her foot and made a move to stomp on the shattered remains of the vase.

"Miss Ortiz, wait!"

The goldmedal lawyer, who had been silent all this time, suddenly stepped forward and carefully picked up a shard.

She adjusted her goldrimmed glasses, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke.

"Miss Ortiz... This is real. Look—this hidden mark right here, it’s Sotheby’s unique security imprint. It’s impossible to fake."

Jordyn waved her off irritably. “Attorney Dominguez, you’re here to help me collect debts, not to appraise antiques.”

But Attorney Dominguez held out the shard with a grave expression. "Please, take a closer look. I swear, there’s no mistake."

Seeing the situation spiral, Garrett jumped in, his voice sharp with panic. "That's nonsense! My brother works at that auction house. The real vase is in the billionaire’s private museum! He told me himself!"

I glanced up at the security monitor.

The cameras were turning—my mother must have been alerted by now.

Whatever happened next... Even if I begged on their behalf, it would be too late.

Just then, the package I'd asked the courier station to help locate was delivered—everything neatly packed up and dropped off at my door.

I casually flipped through a few video files, then gave Garrett a cold, knowing look.

So it was him stirring things up behind the scenes.

Well, in that case—he shouldn’t blame me for what was coming.

Seeing how stubborn the two were, Attorney Dominguez turned to leave.

But I admired her sharpness—and her courage—so I called out to her.

"Attorney Dominguez, since you’re already here, why not help Miss Ortiz settle a few accounts?"

"Her people destroyed my porcelain vase, slandered me all over the internet, and stole over half a million dollars worth of goods from me. Tell me—what would that kind of case look like in court?"

"If you handle this properly, I promise your legal career will soar from here on."

She hesitated—until I handed her my phone.

She looked at it for barely a second before her eyes lit up. She nodded firmly.

“Okay!”

With lightningfast precision, she started flipping through her tablet, legal codes rolling off her tongue.

“Deliberate destruction of valuable cultural artifacts—minimum three years in prison. This blueandwhite porcelain vase was valued at one hundred twenty million dollars, which classifies it as a ‘particularly severe’ case under criminal law...”

Jordyn’s face turned as black as coal. She slammed her hand on the table and screamed, "Wayne! You really are scum down to the bone. Are you seriously trying to seduce the lawyer I hired—right in front of me?"

In the chaos, Garrett lunged at the lawyer to grab the tablet.

“A fake like that can’t get me jailed!”

I watched their pathetic desperation with a cold gaze and slowly unlocked my phone.

“No rush,” I said calmly. “The best part is still coming.”