Chapter 1They Hunted the Wrong Monster

A rich kid offered to buy me dinner.

Led on by his sly encouragement, I ordered a feast of biblical proportions for a table of ten: king crab, massive lobsters, the finest French caviar—the works.

It wasn’t until he flashed a malicious grin that the trap was sprung.

"Babe, if you can't finish all that, you're picking up the check."

He thought I didn’t see it—the hidden camera on his chest, the live feed where a torrent of comments was already flooding the screen, all of them mocking me.

“Look at her face, she’s screwed. That spread is $95,000. How’s some broke girl gonna pay for that?”

“Did you see how greedy she was ordering? LMAO.”

“Does she really think you can just leech off a rich guy that easily?”

“Another point for the Gold Digger Takedown Team! Yo, share the stream, guys, this is gonna be epic!”

But there, under the invisible glare of a thousand eyes, I didn’t panic as they’d all hoped. I just lifted my knife and fork, flashed a playful grin that showed the tips of my canines, and smiled.

A takedown?

As a creature of myth, known since antiquity for my insatiable appetite, there’s a human expression I’ve always been fond of.

The most dangerous predators are the ones who look like prey.

* * *

A short clip went viral across all the platforms recently.

It starred a man and a woman. You only ever heard the guy’s voice, but the woman was on camera the entire time.

The setting was a high-end luxury boutique. The woman, giddy with excitement, tried on an array of designer bags and dresses, constantly turning to the man for his opinion.

"Babe, that dress was made for you."

"That bag is sick. It's the limited-edition season drop. Wild that this store has all the colors. You should just get them all."

"You need a pair of red-bottom stilettos with that skirt. Those ones are perfect."

Lost in the flurry of praise, the woman held her head high, preening in one exquisite outfit after another. She even threw her old clothes into a trash can right there in the middle of the store.

It was only when she approached the register, arms laden with her spoils, that the fantasy shattered.

"I said I'd go shopping with you, not for you."

"No way, no way… After all that posturing, you’re just some broke chick? If you don’t have the money, what are you even doing in a place like this?"

The man’s voice was loud, mocking. A crowd was starting to form. The woman panicked.

"But you told me to buy all this…"

"So? If I tell you to buy it, you just buy it? Do you have any idea what’s in your bank account? If I told you to go jump off a bridge, would you do that, too?"

Snickers rippled through the onlookers. Someone pulled out their phone and started recording.

The woman, biting her lip, forced a syrupy smile. "You said you liked me. If you just pay for this, I'll be your girlfriend."

The man let out an exaggerated, booming laugh.

"My girlfriend? Who the hell do you think you are? Take a good look in the mirror. A gold digger who can't even afford a few dresses wants to be my girlfriend? Get real."

"If you can't afford it, go sell something. Aren't you girls good at that? Or take out a loan. Why are you looking for a sugar daddy? You think we owe you something?"

He went on like that, a relentless, ten-minute tirade. Finally, face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson, the woman returned every single item. She walked back to the trash can, retrieved her old clothes, and put them back on, piece by piece, before fleeing the store under a chorus of derision.