Sorry, Ex: I Am The Real Billionaire Heiress!

I worked three part-time jobs and dug through campus trash cans every day just to support my boyfriend, Dalvin.

But today, I caught him in the dim locker room, his arms wrapped tightly around Delina, the famously arrogant rich girl who always treated me like dirt.

When I confronted him, he didn't show a single ounce of guilt. Instead, he shoved me hard onto the cold tile floor, mocking me for reeking of poverty.

"I'm sick of having a girlfriend who digs through trash!"

He sneered at me, flat-out refusing to return the money I had scrubbed floors to earn for his tuition.

Delina stomped her designer stiletto right through my work notebook, twisting her heel until the pages tore.

"You belong rotting in the mud."

She laughed shrilly, tossing a crumpled ten-dollar bill at my bleeding knees like charity for a stray dog.

The crowd of students gathered at the door pointed and snapped photos, watching me struggle to stand with an injured leg.

I stared at the boy I had sacrificed my pride and body for over the past two years, my heart turning to absolute ice. Was my life really meant to be trampled on by these people forever?

Just as I limped away into the shadows, my cracked, second-hand phone suddenly buzzed.

"Jillian, my daughter," a deep, authoritative voice echoed through the receiver. "Your nineteen-year poverty trial is finally over. I just wired one hundred million dollars into your account."