1 I love money, but I hate men who have more of it than I do. That was why, when forced to choose between my highly successful first love and a bleached-blonde rebel who seemed to have no future, I ignored my parents' furious objections and married the rebel. I chose him because he always knew how to make fast cash, and he always let me keep the lion’s share. Three years into our marriage, we closed another massive deal. While we were splitting the profits, Carter Hayes, my bleached-blonde husband, looked at me and asked: "The money, or me?" "The money." He didn’t take a single cent from that deal. Instead, he looked at me and said, "Then let's get a divorce." My hands paused mid-count. I looked at Carter in surprise. He knew how much I loved money. In the past, we would playfully bicker over our cuts, but he would always ultimately yield, making sure I walked away just a little richer than he did. We never fought. During our entire relationship, he had never once even uttered the word "breakup." Yet today, he was asking for a divorce. I stared at him blankly. "Why do you want a divorce?" He paused at the doorway, flashing me that same cynical, easygoing smirk he always wore. "Because you always take the bigger cut. It’s not fair." His eyes drifted to the stacks of cash still sitting on the table. He raised an eyebrow. "It's all yours. I'm out." I shifted my feet slightly toward the door, but then stopped. This wasn't the first time he had bluffed. He’d throw a little tantrum and then come right back. I looked at the money on the table and pulled my foot back. Our job was basically real estate speculation. We scouted old, run-down neighborhoods that were prime targets for commercial redevelopment and bought them out. For instance, this current payout came from a street we had calculated would be bought out by developers. Two years ago, we went door-to-door, buying up the properties. Today, the massive redevelopment funds for those old houses we had bought at a premium finally hit our accounts. But because we didn’t have a traditional storefront or a conventional 9-to-5 job, in my parents' eyes, we were just a pair of jobless drifters. The next evening, I did something rare: I cooked a full dinner. I called him. "Stop messing around. I made dinner. Come home." On the other end of the line, he said he wasn't coming back. I twirled the ends of my hair around my finger and threw out a casual threat. "If you aren't back by midnight, I'm getting back together with Spencer Montgomery." I hung up with a confident smile on my face. Carter was usually incredibly laid-back, but the mere mention of my first love’s name always made his blood boil with wild jealousy. I sat leisurely on the couch, eating fruit and watching the news, casually researching which street we should buy out next. It wasn't until the clock struck 11:30 PM that a faint sense of panic began to set in. I had never felt this kind of imbalance with him before. I gripped my phone tightly, staring as the minutes ticked by on the screen. Finally, midnight hit. A knock sounded at the door. I practically sprinted to open it. "Miss, I have a priority delivery for you. Please sign here." A courier in a blue uniform stood in the hallway. I opened the envelope. Inside was a finalized divorce agreement. Was he actually serious? The courier glanced at the documents in my hand. "Ma'am, please sign. I have to take it back tonight. Who finalizes a divorce in the middle of the night anyway?" A flicker of humiliation burned in my chest. I snatched the pen, hastily scribbled my signature, and slammed the door shut. I immediately dialed Carter's number. He rejected the call. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I drafted a text to him. [Spencer has been visiting my parents a lot since I dumped him. He's going over for dinner tomorrow, and so am I. Since we're divorced, you finally have no say in what I do!] After hitting send, I felt like I had won the round. 2 The next day, I bought gifts and went to my parents' house. When they saw me, a flash of surprise crossed their eyes, followed immediately by overwhelming joy. I hadn't been back since I ran away from home to marry Carter. Spencer Montgomery, my first love, was sitting on the sofa. He adjusted his collar, looking at me with a slight flush on his face. "Mia, what brings you here?" I shot him a cold look. "This is my house. Am I not allowed to come back?" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. During dinner, I kept my eyes glued to my phone, secretly sending Carter a second message. [If you don't reply in ten minutes, I'm marrying Spencer.] After dinner, I stood out on the balcony, letting the cool breeze hit my face. Still no reply from Carter. Spencer walked out and handed me a glass of water. "I'm sorry. I was wrong back then. I'm the reason you turned out like this..." When I was dating Spencer, we were seniors in college. We were practically at the stage of discussing marriage. The day we broke up was the day my entire life changed. I had accidentally lost a hundred-dollar bill he had given me. I apologized quietly. But he berated me in front of our entire graduating class, screaming about how useless I was. I felt humiliated and snapped back loudly, "It's just a hundred bucks! I'll pay you back, okay?!" He suddenly lunged from his seat, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me against the wall. He had just opened a small computer repair shop through his own grueling hard work, and he had become pathologically obsessed with money. He screamed that making money wasn't easy, that I was a parasite still living off my parents in college, and asked if I planned to leech off him for the rest of my life too. I didn't understand his rage and kept talking back. So, he slapped me across the face in front of everyone. Carter Hayes, the slacking, bleached-blonde underachiever from the neighboring department, happened to be walking past the classroom. He rushed in, tackled Spencer to the ground, and dragged me out to the football field. When I called my parents crying, they all sympathized with Spencer's stress. They even told me he was right. That day, I sat on the bleachers hugging my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. That was the day I learned the true weight of money. If you spend other people's money, they will look down on you. So, I decided I was going to make my own money. I wanted to be richer than all of them, so that no matter how I spent it, no one could ever point a finger at me. I didn't go home for days after that. Carter booked me a hotel room and let me stay there alone. At night, he took me to clubs where we'd blow thousands of dollars in a few hours. During the day, he took me to high-end restaurants where a single meal cost a small fortune. I knew he was an orphan. I couldn't figure out how he had so much untraceable cash, so I asked him if he was doing something illegal. He just scoffed. "Money is lying everywhere on the ground. You just have to have the brains to pick it up." From then on, I started running with him. I demanded he teach me how to make money. He always indulged me, always making sure I got the larger cut. 3 Seeing Spencer and me standing on the balcony together, my parents tentatively chimed in. "Mia, it's been years. Spencer has been waiting for you." I knew exactly what they were implying. "I'm divorced," I stated flatly. Spencer asked if I could give him another chance. I pointed to the dilapidated, historic street directly across from my parents' neighborhood. My eyes gleamed with ambition. "Buy out that entire street, and I'll marry you. You just handle the negotiations. I'll provide the capital." I could see Spencer hesitate. In his rigid moral compass, what I was proposing bordered on unethical because it required manipulation and aggressive tactics. I grabbed my purse and turned around. "If it's too hard, forget it. You never loved me as much as Carter did anyway." As I opened the front door to leave, Spencer's voice rang out behind me. "I can do it!" I let out a soft laugh and walked out. Any street I set my sights on, Carter would definitely have noticed before me. So the news that I would marry Spencer if he secured that street was guaranteed to reach Carter's ears. Exactly as I predicted, a year later, just as Spencer was finalizing the acquisitions, someone hijacked the deal out from under him. Every single homeowner who had agreed to sell suddenly backed out. I stood at the entrance of the street. Carter, who had vanished for an entire year, strolled up to me with his usual arrogant swagger. "You wanted this street too?" I rolled my eyes. "You've already secured it, Mr. Hayes. Stop acting." He put on a look of total bewilderment. "I just heard the news, so I came to check it out." I stared at him intently. His bleached hair had long been dyed back to its natural dark color. He didn't look like he was lying. But in our line of work, lying without blinking was a baseline requirement. I questioned the truth of every single syllable he spoke. For the next few days, I tagged along with him, eating and drinking on his dime. Every day, I asked him: "Did you buy out this street or not? Transfer it to me." But his lips were sealed tight. He just gave me his usual cynical smile and vague, noncommittal answers. Over the following days, I stopped contacting him. Because I was currently lying in a VIP room at a private hospital, diagnosed with acute kidney failure. When he arrived, his usual arrogant smirk was entirely gone. He stared at my pale lips and gripped my hand tightly. I had never seen him look so serious. "Why did this happen so suddenly?" I spoke slowly, my voice weak. "Maybe it's karma. You know my obsession with money has become a sickness... "Considering I don't have much time left, can you just tell me if you bought that street?" He whispered anxiously, "Why are you still obsessing over that street at a time like this?" A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. "Did you buy it or not?! I'm literally dying, and you still won't tell me?" Carter abruptly stood up. "I'll come back to see you later." He turned and walked out the door. Listening to his fading footsteps, I quickly pulled out a compact mirror and checked my 'sick' makeup. Thank God. I thought he had caught me. A full day passed, and he still hadn't returned. Bored out of my mind in the hospital bed, I started wandering the halls of the private clinic. I noticed a door slightly ajar. The person lying in the bed looked exactly like Carter. I gently pushed the door open and walked in. He was lying there, looking incredibly frail. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me. "You're here..." I frowned deeply, sitting on the edge of his bed. "What happened to you?" He parted his dry lips. "I went to the doctor yesterday to see if I could give you one of my kidneys... but the results came back..." I stared at him, dead serious. "What did the results say?" He let out a weak, breathy laugh. "Just like you. I have acute kidney failure too." 4 I froze. Staring at his pale, exhausted expression, I couldn't find the words to speak. He gently patted the back of my hand. "I'll give you three chances. You can ask me three questions. Consider it my parting gift to you." The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. "Just focus on resting for now." He shook his head. "I'm being discharged tomorrow. There's no point lying in a hospital bed anyway. Want to come with?" I nodded. The next day, we both checked out of the hospital and went back to his place. He definitely looked like a terminal patient today—at least, a much more convincing one than me. The bridge of my nose stung with unshed tears. He sat on the couch with his laptop, researching which old streets were ripe for acquisition, exactly like he used to. I sat on the desk, watching him. The first question: "That street... was it you who bought it?" He set the laptop aside, crossed his arms, and looked at me. "Why do you want to know so badly?" Looking at his haggard face, my eyes welled up with tears. I reached out, hugged him, and started crying. "I don't know why you divorced me. But if you admit you bought that street, it proves you still love me." He reached up, gently stroking my cheek, and nodded. "I bought it. When I heard you were going to marry him, my heart literally ached. I didn't want to see you marry him." I looked up at him. "Then why did you divorce me?" He tenderly wiped my tears away and smiled. "Didn't I tell you? You always took the bigger cut." I shook my head. "That doesn't count as a question. I'll pick another one. Do you really have acute kidney failure?" He pulled me into his arms, resting his hand on the back of my head, and whispered earnestly: "You are the woman I love most in this world... I used to wonder all the time if we'd still be bickering like this when we got old. "When I found out I had this disease, I just wanted to leave the best things I had to you before I was gone." He cupped my face, staring deeply into my eyes. I froze for a moment, then nodded, tears pooling in my eyes. But the very next second, he couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The fragile, dying aura instantly vanished from his face. 5 I shoved him away furiously. "You lied to me again! I knew it couldn't be a coincidence!" He leaned in close, whispering, "What about you?" I lifted my chin defiantly. "Mine is obviously real! I'm practically dying, and you're still tricking me!" He shrugged. "Then mine is real too." I sat angrily on the sofa. "If neither of us is going to tell the truth, then let's just shut up!" He smiled and shook his head. Once I calmed down, I continued, "That last question didn't count either. I still have two questions left, right?" He nodded. "If you say so." I asked eagerly, "Can you give me the contract for that street?" "Sure." He led me to a room on the second floor and handed me the acquisition contracts. I held the documents, happily throwing my arms around his neck. He matched my enthusiasm, holding me tight. "Look at that. You're richer than me again." The next morning, I woke up, grabbed the contracts from the nightstand, and read through them over and over, a satisfied smile on my face. "Time to get up. Come somewhere with me," he said, pushing the door open. I waved the contracts at him. "Don't forget you have to come to the notary office with me to transfer the title." After getting dressed, he took me to a high-end jewelry store and asked me to help him pick out a wedding ring. I teased him, "What, are you planning to propose again?" In the past, I always criticized the rings he picked out when he proposed. It seemed he had finally learned his lesson and was letting me pick it myself. He smiled. "It's not for you. Just help me pick." Naturally, I chose the ring with the largest diamond in the store. He paid for it and slipped the velvet box into his pocket. Then, we headed to the notary office to handle the contract transfer. After handing the documents to the clerk, I turned to look at Carter. He couldn't hide the smirk playing on his lips. It was the exact same expression he wore the last time he proposed to me. I cleared my throat. "Wait here a second. I need to use the restroom." I hurried to the restroom, washed my hands meticulously, and slathered them in hand cream, prepping my fingers for the impending proposal. After fussing for half an hour, I held out my hands. They looked soft, pale, and perfect. Satisfied, I walked back out to the lobby. The clerk handed the documents back to me. "These are invalid. These are fake contracts." "What?" I suspiciously took the papers back, quickly scanning the clauses and signatures. "That's impossible. Are you sure you didn't miss something...?" As I started to argue with the clerk, I glanced over at Carter. He was already failing to suppress his laughter. I had been played. Again. I furiously threw the fake contracts at his chest, screaming, "Carter Hayes! Do you think making a fool out of me is funny?!" He looked at me with that infuriating, punchable smirk. "I just love seeing you angry." More and more people in the notary office were stopping to stare at the hysterical woman and the perfectly calm man. I took a deep breath. "If you act like this, don't ever expect me to marry you again!" Carter stood up. "When did I ever say I wanted you to marry me again?" 6 I pointed at the pocket where he had put the ring. "Isn't that for me?" Carter let out a soft laugh. "We're divorced. Why would it be for you?" In the past, if a joke went this far, he would immediately backtrack and start coaxing me. But today, he didn't. Just as I was about to fire back, my parents walked into the notary office, with Spencer right behind them. Spencer handed me a stack of documents, his face glowing with excitement. "Mia, I finally managed to secure these contracts! Don't worry, you don't have to pay a dime. They're my gift to you." Before I could even speak, he handed the documents to the clerk to initiate the transfer. I watched the clerk's serious expression. "Yes, these are authentic. We will transfer the deeds into Mia Hastings' name now." Carter leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "I told you I didn't buy them out, but you wouldn't listen. It looks like he really has changed. Congratulations." My eyes widened slightly. I quickly snatched my ID back from the clerk. "Cancel the transfer." Leaving my thoroughly confused parents, a bewildered Spencer, and a smirking Carter behind, I walked out of the notary office alone. Back in my car, I stared blankly at the entrance of the building. It seemed my ego had completely run away with me. I had never genuinely believed Carter would actually care about how we split our money. I had been absolutely certain he bought out that old street purely because he was fighting for me. I thought he only admitted to it because I annoyed him into it. I let out a bitter laugh. His years of constant coddling had made me blindly, delusionally confident. Knock, knock, knock. Someone rapped on my window. My parents and Spencer had followed me to the car. I unlocked the doors. They got in and immediately started discussing wedding plans for Spencer and me. I cut them off. "How did you know I was at the notary office?" My parents exchanged a look. Spencer stayed silent for a moment before saying, "I was coming here to ask about the transfer process, and I just happened to see you." "I thought that street had already been bought out. How did you get the contracts? And where did you get that kind of money?" Spencer didn't answer. My mom chimed in, telling me that to secure the street and marry me, Spencer had practically lived on the homeowners' doorsteps, begging them to sell. He eventually offered a 20% premium over the market acquisition price to secure the buyout. As for the money, he liquidated his commercial leases, sold his family's ancestral home, and took out massive bank loans just to buy that street for me. My mom looked at me earnestly, telling me I shouldn't let him down. After dropping my parents off at their house, I went downstairs alone. My mind was a chaotic mess. Everything that was happening recently was spiraling entirely out of my control. Spencer chased me downstairs and called out my name.
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