The Gold-Digger’s Transformation

In the grand romance novel of their lives, Rosalind was the heroine who believed money was filth, and I was the greedy, selfish, villainous side character. So when she went abroad to study and the male lead, Sebastian, came looking for a substitute, I asked him for ten million dollars. When she came back and he broke up with me, I asked for another ten million. And when they had a fight and she ran away, leading him back to my door once again, I asked for ten million more. Finally, Rosalind couldn’t stand it anymore. She showed up at my door, eyes red with indignation, to condemn me. “How could you value money over dignity and true love? You have no shame, tricking Sebastian out of his money time and time again!” But when I decided to go after Sebastian’s “true love” for myself? Rosalind was the one who came back, crying and begging. “I’ll give you all my money, all of it. Just please… make him stop loving you.” … The day Rosalind returned to the country yet again, Sebastian had his secretary hand me a check with practiced ease. One million dollars this time. “Rosalind is back tomorrow. I trust you understand your place.” I took the check, my eyes turning red as I wiped away a phantom tear, feigning fortitude. “I understand. I won’t bother you.” Sebastian was already busy planning Rosalind’s welcome-home party. His secretary, Ms. Finch, showed me out with cold professionalism. At the door, she gave me a look of pure contempt. “A word of advice, Ms. Vance. A capable adult should find a real job and support herself, not engage in this… sordid line of work.” “Mr. Knight will only ever love a woman like Miss Rosalind—strong, kind, and pure.” The moment she was gone, I dropped the act and shoved the check into my pocket. Damn it. It used to be ten million. This time, it was only one. Sebastian was getting cheap. Still, something was better than nothing. I hoped he’d call me again next time. Fifteen minutes later, photos of me being kicked out by Ms. Finch were all over the internet. As the city’s poster child for gold-diggers, the comments were predictable. ‘Dumped by Mr. Knight again? I don’t get what she’s trying to accomplish, crawling back like a dog.’ ‘The power of the one that got away is terrifying.’ I dismissed it all as noise. I was in this position entirely thanks to Sebastian and Rosalind. In college, I worked my fingers to the bone for a scholarship, only for Sebastian to say, “Zara might have the higher scores, but Rosalind just seems like she tried harder.” Poof. There went my scholarship. During my internship, I did the work of eight people while Rosalind did nothing but cry and cause problems. But then Sebastian said, “I think an assistant with a kind heart like Rosalind is a better fit for Knight Industries.” Poof. There went my job offer. I was living in a basement apartment, eating instant ramen and trying to make the flavor packets last for two meals. Meanwhile, Rosalind, with the job offer she’d stolen from me, stubbornly refused it. “I don’t want your charity,” she’d told him. “I’ll prove myself with my own abilities.” And with that, she flew off to study abroad. I heard Sebastian was so heartbroken he couldn’t eat or sleep. So, on the verge of starvation myself, I used the last of my credit to buy a simple white dress. Banking on the fact that my face was a sixty-percent match to Rosalind’s, I went to him. So what if I was a substitute? If it kept me from starving, I called it a win. Besides, I was the perfect woman for the job: I only wanted his money, not his love. With a clear conscience, I drove the new luxury car he’d bought me to the best private kitchen in the city to treat my friends. And who should I run into while paying the bill but Rosalind. She darted out from a corner, snatching my membership card from my hand. “Zara! Why are you still spending Sebastian’s money? It’s not easy for him to earn it, you know. Can’t you have some dignity? Must you live on handouts?” She then turned to the waiter, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. “Sir, I’d like to report a problem. The money on this card isn’t hers. She didn’t earn it with her own two hands. You should make her work here to pay off her debt!” I had no interest in arguing with an idiot, but she was Sebastian’s one true love. If she complained to him, I could lose out on millions in future “substitute” fees. So I softened my voice. “Miss Rosalind, Sebastian put this money on the card for me willingly. I didn’t steal it. In fact, I’ve already paid for your table as well.” She scoffed, then snapped the card—which still had over ten thousand dollars on it—in half. “I am a strong, independent woman! I don’t need anything from a man!” she declared. “Come on. Let’s go wash dishes in the back. Money you earn yourself is the only clean money.” She stomped on the broken pieces of my card for good measure, then grabbed at my dress, a ten-thousand-dollar designer piece. The delicate fabric ripped with a sickening tear. On instinct, I shoved her away. The moment Rosalind crumpled to the floor, Sebastian appeared, right on cue. He never cared about the context, only the result. And the result was his perfect angel, on the ground. His face turned thunderous. “Zara, what are you doing?” I clutched the torn fabric over my chest and apologized smoothly. “It’s my fault. I’ll take Miss Rosalind to the hospital for a full check-up. I’ll cover all her nutritional expenses for the month.” Rosalind scrambled to her feet, defiant. “Who wants your filthy money? I want an apology.” The restaurant staff tried to explain the situation to Sebastian, but he just frowned. “You pushed her. You need to apologize.” His tone was ice. “Zara. Apologize.” The other diners had all stopped to stare, their whispers filling the air. Humiliated, I felt my eyes well up with tears. I lowered my head and mumbled an apology. Then, pretending to be overcome with grief, I covered my face and ran out. Once I was safely out of sight, I let out a breath of relief. That was close. She almost cost me a fortune. An apology was nothing. Besides, Sebastian was always generous; I knew he’d compensate me for the trouble. Sure enough, a moment later, my phone chimed with a payment notification. Three hundred thousand dollars deposited into your account. The restaurant owner called to say Sebastian had also added another ten thousand to my new membership card. Then, a text from Sebastian came through. [Rosalind doesn’t know any better. Please be patient with her.] My fingers automatically typed out “k, thx,” but I quickly deleted it. [I understand completely, Sebastian. As long as Miss Rosalind is happy, I don’t mind.] Ten minutes later, another payment notification. I clutched my phone, filled with gratitude. Thank God I’m a greedy, selfish, materialistic gold digger. Otherwise, all this money would have gone to someone else. In high spirits, I returned to the sprawling river-view apartment Sebastian had bought for me. But my good mood didn’t last. The next day, Rosalind, accompanied by Sebastian’s lawyer, sued me. She demanded I return every penny Sebastian had ever spent on me. She stood before the cameras in a bright yellow dress, looking like a resilient little sunflower, full of righteous fire. “It’s the twenty-first century! How can a woman be so materialistic? Mr. Knight is a simple, good man who doesn’t understand these schemes. Zara’s behavior is a stain on all women. As his employee, I will uphold justice and teach her the value of earning her own living.” Sebastian stood behind her and gave a noncommittal “Mm.” His lawyer was known as “The Invincible” of the city’s legal scene; he’d never lost a case. I never thought a man of his stature would sick a lawyer on an ex-girlfriend. For a billionaire CEO in these novels, a couple million was pocket change. But the court summons arrived, and all my assets were frozen. I didn’t even have time to run. He was ruthless. Cutting off someone’s access to money is like killing their parents. Not that I had any parents. With the court date looming, I tried to call Sebastian, only to find I’d been blocked. A smug text from Rosalind arrived. [Have you realized the error of your ways, gold digger? After this, you may be broke and tens of thousands in debt, but I’ll find you a job so you can be self-sufficient.] [My aunt needs a dishwasher at her restaurant. The pay is only twenty-eight hundred a month, but on weekends you can volunteer at the orphanage. Only sincerity brings true happiness.] What an idiot. I looked at my own hands, soft and delicate, with their perfectly manicured, rhinestone-studded nails. I’d done nothing wrong. The arrangement was his idea. The money was freely given. I only took a sum that was meaningless to him. I never played with his heart. Why was I being treated like a criminal? The internet was a cesspool of gawkers and Rosalind supporters. I turned off my phone and went to sleep. When I woke up, it was to a call from Mrs. Peterson at the orphanage. Her voice was timid. “Zara, dear… they said the payments for Tilly’s medical bills have stopped. Are you in some kind of trouble?” That’s when I realized the asset freeze included the money I’d set aside for the hospital. Most of the children at the orphanage had health problems. Tilly’s was the most severe, but we’d finally arranged for her surgery in a few days. I gave a bitter laugh. Fine. Rosalind didn’t want me to take Sebastian’s money? Alright. I wouldn’t take his money anymore. That night, I packed up everything Sebastian had ever given me: deeds, bank cards, car keys, designer bags, and expensive jewelry. From the bottom of a chest, I pulled out a slightly worn white dress—the one I’d bought on credit five years ago when I was at my lowest. Then I went and waited outside the venue of a gala I knew he was attending. The city was cold in winter. Soon, I was shivering uncontrollably. By the time Sebastian came out, I was numb.