Chapter 1Broke, Busted, and Billionaire-Bound?

My boyfriend and I both thought the other was a secret rich kid slumming it.

On the surface, we were partners in crime, hustling for every penny, but secretly, we were both eyeing the other’s imagined trust fund.

It wasn't until two actual high-society campus alumni announced their engagement that the penny dropped. We’d been wrong.

Turns out, we were both just flat-out broke.

So, we immediately decided to break up and split our side gigs.

He got the gig handling errands and shopping runs.

I took the job of covering classes and writing papers for students.

And we agreed to use up the remaining eight condoms we had in one go.

From then on, it was back to our own corners, hustling hard, and no hard feelings.

* * *

The day Ethan Hayes, heir to the Hayes fortune, and Chloe Fitzgerald, heiress to the Fitzgerald empire, announced their engagement, they flooded every campus group chat with cash links.

Thanks to my lightning-fast concert ticket buying fingers, I snagged an easy eight hundred bucks.

"Score! Just grabbed a whole month's rent money."

I bragged to my boyfriend, Ryan Black, when it suddenly hit me.

"Ryan, wait, you're not that Hayes guy, are you?"

He was mid-forkful of BBQ chicken when his hand froze, his expression changing. "Fiona, so... you're not the Fitzgerald heiress?"

I shook my head.

He slowly pulled his fork back. "So, is your scooter really called 'Maserati'?"

I nodded. "Yeah! Don't you think it's adorable and classy? It totally has that Maserati vibe."

Then, a sudden realization dawned on me. "And that Porsche key fob you carry—is that... not a key?"

He hesitated. "That’s just a lighter."

Wrong.

All of it. Wrong.

We just stared at each other.

It turned out we'd both been operating under the assumption that the other was a secret billionaire playing poor.

Those "abstract" moments weren't clever attempts to mask wealth; they were just genuinely broke moments.

To break the crushing awkwardness, I took a huge bite of ramen.

And accidentally lodged a piece of chili flake in my throat.

"Cough... cough..."

It felt like fireworks were going off behind my eyes.

The quick-witted waitress rushed over with a soda. "The special doesn't include a drink, that’ll be five bucks extra."

I frantically waved her off. "No, thanks!"

Ryan frowned. "Just drink it, my treat."

"No way. Your five bucks is just as important as mine."

I chugged an entire jug of free water until the chili flake finally dislodged.

The waitress who watched the whole thing looked like she was in pain.

Suddenly, I felt a little self-pitying.