My Entitled Roommate Demands Half My Fortune

Claire Bennett, my roommate, tried to mask the surprise, but a greedy glint flashed in her eyes when she learned my monthly allowance was $4,500. She dug into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled two-dollar bill. She pressed it into my hand. “Sutton, you have way more money than you need every month, and honestly, it’s not fair to the rest of us here at Ellison. It encourages unhealthy competition. So, we’re going to split our monthly allowances. Fifty-fifty.” “I’m not trying to be unfair, of course. My monthly budget is barely two hundred dollars, so I’m giving you back two.” I almost laughed. I thought she was performing some kind of avant-garde satire. But then I looked at her, her face drawn and pale from what I knew was genuine, self-inflicted hunger, and I felt the old, misplaced pity. I reflexively transferred fifty dollars to her account, enough for a decent week’s worth of food. Her face darkened immediately as she stared at the screen. She shrieked, “What the hell is this? Didn’t you pass basic math? Half of four thousand five hundred is twenty-two hundred and fifty! You still owe me two thousand two hundred! Give it to me!” The sheer audacity was so familiar it broke the dam of my rage. I remembered what came next—the knife. The blood. I wanted to transfer rooms and never look at her again, but before I could, the memory of that cruel, righteous fury on her face returned, and with it, the cold steel. She had felt so justified, believing I was hoarding wealth that was rightfully hers. “Bitch! You have so much money and you won’t give it to me? Are you saving it for your coffin? I said split it! Are you trying to starve me? Die, you whore!” It was a visceral memory. A cold, sharp blade sinking into my sternum. I jolted, my breath catching on a ghost of a scream. I was back. I was back to the day she first found out about the money. 1 “Fifty dollars? You think you can buy me off with a pity handout? Give me the rest of the money, or I’ll make you regret it!” The familiar venomous words were proof. I had been reborn. The phantom pain of the scissors slicing through my heart made me shiver, an uncontrollable, shaking coldness that started deep in my chest. Last time, Claire knew I was wealthy, and combined with her pitiful allowance, she decided to demand a 50/50 split. I’d refused her, offered her the small cash gift out of pity, and tried to frame it as an early birthday present so she wouldn’t lose face, telling her to ask her own parents for money. But she hadn’t lost face; she’d gone into a homicidal rage, grabbing the nearest sharp object. Claire pushed my shoulder roughly. “Are you deaf?!” she yelled. I pushed her hand away, a cold smile settling on my face. I snatched her phone and immediately initiated a refund on the fifty-dollar transfer. My voice was low, cutting through the silence. “Since you look down on it so much, give me back my money.” Claire gaped, then her face twisted with a hateful fury. “You absolute tramp! You’re so rich, and you’re trying to steal my fifty dollars? Are you so broke you need to beg? Give me back my money!” I leaned in, my voice laced with venom. “Give you back your money? That fifty was mine to begin with. And you really thought you could trade two dollars for twenty-two hundred and fifty? Go back to sleep, Claire. Everything is possible in your dreams.” Her face went slack, then darkened further. She glared at me, her eyes tiny with hate. “Why are you acting so superior? I’m telling you this for your own good! What does a woman like you need that much money for? Are you going to blow it on escorts? Don’t come crying to me when you end up with some bastard child because I didn’t warn you!” She took a step toward me, puffing out her chest. “Besides, if you just gave the money to me, I’d be saving it for you anyway! It’s not like I’d waste it!” I was stunned. I knew she was shameless, but her delusions had only grown since the last time. “Do you not have parents, Claire?” I shot back, the words hitting like stones. “Do you have to beg other people for money? Are you a common beggar?” That did it. Claire exploded, lunging forward and slapping me across the face. My cheek stung, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the fury burning away the ghost of a wound. “All my parents’ money is set aside for my brother!” she screamed, her voice cracking with self-pity and entitlement. “How could a degenerate with no brothers like you ever understand real family priority?” “I’m trying to help you! Your parents are destroying you by giving you so much money! They want you to fail so they can just have a boy later! And why should I have to go beg them for money when you have enough to feed an army? I told you I’m doing this for your own good! Why are you so selfish and evil?” Her eyes were manic. “I was willing to give you back half of my two hundred dollars! Why won’t you give me half of yours? You filthy, selfish tramp! Give me the money!” “A woman doesn’t need this kind of cash! You’re probably just giving it to some scumbag hookup! You’d rather give it to some lowlife than help me, and I’m not even asking for a handout!” Tramp. Whore. Scum. The familiar words. The memory of the knife. I couldn’t stand it. This time, I didn’t hold back. I aimed a vicious kick into her gut and we were locked in a wild, furious brawl. 2 My other two roommates, Maya Finn and Michele Miller, walked in right then. They stared for a shocked second, then rushed over, pulling us apart. “What is going on?” Maya pleaded, grabbing my arm. “Just talk it out! Stop fighting!” Claire hadn’t won. Her face was a mask of sheer hatred. She wrenched free, stumbled to the door, yanked it open, and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Sutton Hayes would rather waste her money supporting men and buying herself lavish junk than helping a student in need! She probably gives all her money to some deadbeat she’s knocked up with a bastard child!” “And she just stole fifty dollars from me!” With a dramatic wail, she collapsed to her knees, clutching her head and sobbing. “I only get two hundred dollars a month! How long do you think it took me to save up that fifty dollars? How can you bully a low-income student like this?” The noise brought a crowd of curious students. The immediate reaction of the onlookers was fury. They rushed to lift Claire up, glaring at me. “Rich girl thinks she can just bully the poor kid?” one girl spat. “Who gets money like that anyway? She probably got it from some shady source! She must be supporting a side hustle or something!” “We should report this! What kind of scum are we letting into this school?” “Don’t worry, we’ll get justice for you! Give her back the money, or we’ll report you to the faculty!” I was too furious to speak. Instead, I calmly explained the situation and showed them the initial transfer and immediate refund of the fifty dollars on my phone. The crowd went silent. The loudest accusers suddenly took a step back from Claire. “Wait, really? Is that what happened? She wanted an almost two-thousand-dollar split for two dollars? That’s not bullying, that’s just… robbery.” But Claire was utterly convinced of her righteousness. She stood up straight and declared, “What did I say that was wrong? What does one person need all that money for? And yes, she gave me the fifty, so it was mine! She’s the thief for taking it back! And she still owes me the two thousand two hundred dollars! She has to give it to me!” She then turned to Maya and Michele. “Besides, I was going to split mine with her! She’s the one who refused!” Everyone stared. Michele voiced the collective thought. “Are you kidding? You wanted to trade one hundred dollars for twenty-two hundred and fifty? Are you brain-damaged?” Claire bristled. “You’re all obsessed with money! Money, money, money! So what if it was one hundred dollars? It’s the principle of the split! Are you looking down on my two hundred dollars?” She rolled her eyes in genuine exasperation. “Honestly, I can’t explain this to you simpletons. Just remember to pay up.” Then she looked directly at Maya and Michele. “And that goes for you two as well.” Maya and Michele exchanged a look of pure dread. Claire immediately sent a group message with her Venmo account. “Your allowance is two thousand a month. So you two need to send me one thousand dollars each, right now.” “And I’ll send you both a hundred dollars back, so you don’t go spreading rumors about me. I’m not ripping you off, unlike you selfish jerks.” Maya and Michele looked at her like she was a creature from another planet. Michele finally spoke, a slow, incredulous realization in her voice. “Why would we give you our money? You want to trade a hundred for a thousand? Did you forget to take your medication?” Maya added, hitting the core problem. “And if it’s a ‘dorm split,’ why aren’t we all splitting everything evenly? If you’re getting a thousand dollars from each of us, your allowance is way higher than ours!” Her face flushed crimson. “Shut up! I’m a low-income student! You guys should be doing this as a charitable donation! Can’t you see I’m starving? Why are you so damn calculating? Where’s your compassion?” The crowd finally turned completely against her. “That is beyond shameless,” a voice shouted from the doorway. “If you’re starving, talk to your parents! Why does everyone else’s money concern you? Stop being so possessive over other people’s wallets!” “She seriously had the nerve to try and flip the narrative. I thought she was a victim, but she’s just delusional! Asking for charity after trying to rob them is insane. I’d be embarrassed to help a lunatic like that.” Claire’s face was beet red. She bit her lip until it was white, tears welling in her eyes. She stamped her foot and yelled, “You all look down on poor people! You’re evil!” She then bolted out the door, leaving everyone staring at the empty hallway. The incident was laughed about for the rest of the day, but I knew the laugh wouldn’t last. Claire Bennett had far more chaos left in her. 3 The next day, Maya, Michele, and I returned to our dorm after classes to find it completely ransacked, as if a hurricane had gone through it. All my designer clothing and expensive cosmetics were gone. Worse, the emergency bank card my father had given me—the one with $10,000 on it—was missing. Maya and Michele had their valuables stolen too, and to make it even more spiteful, their beds had been slashed and covered in filthy water. Our first thought was to call the police. But just then, Claire strutted in, adorned in brand-new, gaudy jewelry and clothing. She put on a show of mock surprise. “Oh my goodness! What happened to you guys? Did you get robbed? No way! Couldn’t be!” “I told you! I told you it was for your own good to give me the money! Now look what happened! You brought this on yourselves! You were too greedy, and now you have nothing! Even your beds are unusable now! Maybe next time you’ll learn to be a little friendlier!” Her taunts were too obvious. Maya couldn’t take it and yelled, “Did you do this, you thief?” Claire pouted. “You losers only know how to attack the disadvantaged, don’t you? I’ll sue you for slander!” “Then where did you get all this new stuff?” Maya demanded, gesturing to Claire’s expensive-looking handbag. I cut Maya off. I had a different idea. I raised an eyebrow at Claire and said, “We already called the police.” Claire hadn’t expected that. Her triumphant sneer froze and began to twist into panic. “You called the cops for what?! You heartless, motherless wretches! You should have called Manager Wallace first!” She realized she’d let something slip. She quickly tried to cover. “Calling the police is damaging the school’s reputation! You’ll all be expelled! Just wait!” Right in front of us, she called Manager Wallace, our faculty advisor, twisting the story into a malicious complaint. Even through the phone, we could hear the Manager’s enraged, bellowing voice. Claire hung up, looking smug, clearly believing we were finished. Manager Wallace burst into the room moments later, his face white with rage, mixed with a hint of panicked fear. He grabbed my arm and shook it, shouting into my face: “Why the hell did you call the police? When something happens on campus, you come to me! You completely bypassed the administration! Do you have any idea what this means?” “Cancel the police call immediately! Tell them it’s a mistake, a misunderstanding! Or you’ll be expelled, do you hear me?” His voice was so loud it drew more students to the doorway. He calmed himself slightly. “You three were bullying your classmate yesterday, and I was going to deal with that, and now you’ve caused this scandal? I’m calling all your parents in! Especially yours, Sutton!” He locked eyes with me, his voice a lethal whisper. “I want to see what kind of terrible parents raise such a rotten person!” Maya gasped, realizing the threat. “But Manager, our things were stolen, and our beds were destroyed! Can’t you see?” The Manager puffed out his chest, using his authority like a shield. “I see. So what? That doesn’t justify calling the police!” I let my gaze drift between Claire, with her cheap new pearls, and Manager Wallace, whose anger was too loud to be genuine. Then I smiled a cold, devastating smile. “Manager Wallace, I just didn’t slip you a big enough bribe, did I? Is that why you’re teaming up with Claire to screw me over?” His face went from pale to scarlet. He instinctively hauled back and slapped me again, a loud crack echoing in the room. “Shut up! What the hell are you talking about?” The students watching gasped. “The teacher hit her! No way! Is what she said true?” The Manager instantly regretted his action. He looked around wildly, his hand still stinging. I pressed my advantage. “Claire is the thief. She stole our things. And you, Manager, you’re an accessory. Enjoy prison, both of you.” Claire’s eyes were filled with pure malice, but she managed a triumphant smirk. “What evidence do you have? There are no cameras in the dorms! No witnesses! No physical proof! You can’t even produce the stolen items! You say I stole it? Prove it! If you can’t, I’m suing you for slander!” The watching students began to mutter amongst themselves. The general consensus was that even with yesterday’s drama, you couldn’t accuse someone without proof. Wallace, sensing the shift, let out a shaky breath. “You think I’m afraid of the police?” he sneered. I returned his cold look with a smirk of my own. You should be. Just then, the police arrived. And I, in front of the stunned onlookers, finally presented the evidence I’d prepared.