Part 1The Gold Digger's Revenge: A Billionaire's Regret

I was eating fries from a late-night food truck when I ran into him—a trust-fund kid I knew in school.

His eyes widened. “Thea? Damn, you really hold a grudge. Took you long enough to come back to Chris.”

Chris—my first love, the son of my mother’s employers. We were supposed to study abroad together.

But at our graduation party, someone drugged him. I rushed to help, but in his haze, he suddenly became lucid and threw me, half-dressed, out of the room.

He called me a desperate social climber. Overnight, I became a “gold digger.” The malice suffocated me, so I left with my mom for two years.

Now, he pulled out his phone. “Chris has been looking for you like a madman. Just apologize—couples fight and make up.”

I laughed, resting a hand on my pregnant belly. “My baby’s due in three months. What’s there to ‘make up’ for?”

* * *

This guy—let's call him Carter—had been Chris’s best friend since they were in diapers. He’d had a front-row seat to my entire history with Chris, from our shy beginnings to the fiery end.

He fumbled with his phone, hastily ending the call. For a long moment, he just stared at my stomach, his voice a lost whisper when he finally spoke.

“Oh, shit. It’s over. It’s really, truly over. You… you got pregnant by someone else?”

I’d snuck out tonight for a craving, not a reunion. I had no intention of strolling down memory lane with him, so I turned to leave.

But he rushed to block my path, his face a mask of undisguised panic.

“Thea, listen to me! Chris is even richer now than he was when you two broke up!” he said, his voice urgent. “He’s Northwood’s most eligible bachelor, for Christ’s sake. He even said that if you came back, he’d marry you. No prenup, nothing.”

His passionate pitch began to falter as he took in my complete lack of expression. Still, he pressed on, a last, desperate attempt.

“Look… what if you just… get rid of the baby? I’ll pretend I never saw you tonight. We can fix this.”

My gaze turned to ice. “You and Chris both need therapy,” I said, my voice dripping with scorn. “Why don’t you go get some instead of spewing your toxic bullshit all over the street?”

His face flushed a deep, blotchy red, and he pointed a trembling finger at me, sputtering, unable to form a single word.

I was already a good distance away when I heard him shout at my back.

“Thea, who the hell are you pretending to be? Weren’t you the one who was desperate to climb into his bed in the first place?”

Climbing into his bed.

That label had been stuck to me since the day Chris and I started dating. It made sense, in their world. He was the heir to a city-wide fortune, and my mother was just a live-in housekeeper in his family’s mansion.

The rich boy and the housekeeper’s daughter. It was a story that just didn't add up.

But Chris’s love had been loud, passionate, and undeniable. So, they whispered that I must have used some dirty tricks, that I’d seduced him, this poor, naive boy, into falling for the help’s daughter.

Back then, I was young and proud. My pride was my world. All I knew was that I loved Chris, and he loved me. So, I clenched my jaw and vowed to prove them all wrong. I would work my ass off until everyone agreed that Thea, just Thea, was worthy of Chris Johnston.

I refused the supplementary credit card he offered me. I never used his connections to pad my own resume.

From eighteen to twenty-two, our relationship, the one nobody believed in, lasted four whole years. I thought we would have so many more.

Until our graduation year. A daughter of a close family friend of the Johnstons came to stay with them for the summer. Her name was Vivian.

Vivian was a true heiress, born and bred in a world of privilege. She played the harp, was a champion equestrian, and could breakdance. She was radiant and dazzling—everything I was and everything I wasn't.

People started dropping hints, sometimes casually, sometimes with pointed intent, about an old, unofficial arrangement between the Johnston and Croft families. A childhood betrothal. Vivian’s summer in Northwood, they implied, was really about sealing the deal.

My anxiety gnawed at me until I couldn't take it anymore. I decided to find Chris at the stables. Every Saturday afternoon, he’d ride to clear his head.

But for the first time, when I got there, he wasn’t riding. He was leaning against the fence, a relaxed, easy smile on his face as he watched the center of the ring.

His eyes were shining.

I followed his gaze.

There was Vivian, dressed in impeccable riding gear, confidently commanding her horse, a riding crop held loosely in her hand.

I watched her for a moment, mesmerized, then turned back to Chris. He hadn't noticed me. His entire world was focused on the girl in the ring.

My simmering unease boiled over into full-blown panic.

I finally managed to call his name.

He started, then a wide grin broke across his face as he grabbed my hand, excitedly telling me how incredible Vivian’s riding skills were.

Finally, he asked, “Thea, you want to give it a try?”

My face burned with shame. I bit my lip and mumbled that I didn't know how to ride.

In that instant, the look of disappointment in his eyes felt like a death sentence.