The day the real heiress came back, I was kicked to the curb. My adoptive parents insisted I experience the "hardships" their biological daughter had suffered for twenty years. Honestly? What hardships? To a true hustler like me, this isn't suffering—it's just a consumption downgrade. And let me tell you, I am the queen of playing a losing hand. 1. Midnight. New York City. A torrential downpour. I stood outside the Sterling family’s massive wrought-iron gates in the Hamptons. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the phone practically glued to my hand. The real heiress had been home for less than two hours before I was tossed out like yesterday’s trash. Lana Sterling said she’d eaten bitterness for twenty-two years in my place, so now it was my turn to taste poverty. The heavy gates slammed shut. The cold, icy rain slapped my face indiscriminately. 2. As a corporate slave who had transmigrated into the body of this cannon fodder fake heiress, I’d enjoyed the luxury lifestyle for less than twenty-four hours before being destitute again. I walked around the perimeter of the estate and found a dry spot under a first-floor balcony. Directly above me was my "brother," Luke’s room. "Don't worry," Lana’s voice drifted down from the drainpipe. "Her pockets are cleaner than her face right now. Once she tastes a bit of hardship, she’ll realize the benefits of wealth. She’ll be crawling back to warm your bed in no time." Tsk. For a multi-million dollar mansion, the soundproofing was garbage. I knew it. Luke, who had been getting handsy with me all afternoon, looked like he wanted to keep things "in the family." That’s why he looked so moody at dinner. He wanted to keep me as a caged canary. Joke’s on him. To a rich kid like Luke, owning only one penthouse is considered "poverty." But to a true grinder like me? As long as I have two hundred bucks in my digital wallet, I can survive for two weeks. Plus, I still had about twelve grand left from this month’s allowance in my account. To the Sterlings, that’s ice cream money. To normal people? That’s survival money for a year if you’re smart. They thought they were knocking me into the dirt. To me? I was just switching to budget mode. 3. Twenty minutes later, my Uber arrived. I’d called a premium ride—might as well enjoy the last perks of the high life. The driver held an umbrella for me and opened the door. It was worth the 20% surge pricing. I never understood why heroines in dramas always insist on walking in the rain until they get a high fever after getting kicked out. Is it a kink? I didn't have money for medical bills. Life is hard enough without self-inflicted torture. 4. The driver dropped me off at a budget motel. Fifty bucks a night. I took a hot shower, changed into the hotel robe, and sent my couture clothes to the front desk for dry cleaning. Before bed, I downed two packets of Emergen-C just to be safe. When you’re out on your own, your health is your only capital. If no one loves you, you have to love yourself. 5. I woke up feeling refreshed. I put on my freshly dry-cleaned clothes and headed to a nearby discount outlet. I dove into the clearance bins, haggled like a demon, and spent a hundred bucks on four t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, and a pair of canvas sneakers. As I left, the shop owner grumbled while bagging my stuff. "Girl, you’re dressed in designer gear but you haggle over pennies? Fine, take it at cost. I’ll even throw in a nice shopping bag." Exactly what I needed. How else was I going to sell this Louis Vuitton outfit for a good price without a decent bag? It was a shame about the lambskin shoes I was wearing. Rich people stuff is fragile; one day of walking on pavement and the soles were scuffed. No resale value there. But my phone case? That was encrusted with Swarovski crystals. An $800 phone inside a $3,000 case. If I hadn't checked the "shopping history" of the original owner, I wouldn't have believed money could be burned like that. And yet, the original owner of this body thought she couldn't survive and was planning to go work at a bar? Brain damage, clearly. 6. I spun around like a top all morning and finally liquidated every valuable item on my person. Now, nothing on my body cost more than $20. I looked like a walking ad for Amazon Basics. Comfortable. This was the lifestyle I was used to. I walked with a spring in my step, carrying a balance of nearly $10,000. I was rich! I needed to treat myself. I found a hole-in-the-wall noodle joint in Chinatown. Not much meat, but the sauce was savory, the cucumber crisp, and the noodles hand-pulled. Fifteen bucks for a huge bowl, and free refills on noodles. I hadn't eaten properly since the night before. I slurped it down, cleaning the bowl until even the last bit of minced meat was gone. I let out a loud, satisfied burp. Before I sold the clothes, I hadn’t dared to eat—didn’t want to risk a stain lowering the resale value. Wearing gold and silver makes me nervous. Budget living makes me free. I guess I’m just not built for fine dining. 7. That afternoon, I bought a cheap prepaid SIM card and swapped my iPhone for a $200 Android. The familiar operating system felt like home. Ah, sturdy. If I dropped this, I wouldn't even cry. I checked my chat history. The last two days were filled with mockery and sneers, plus a few "offers" from rich second-generation jerks asking if I needed a sugar daddy. Get lost. Money really rots the brain. The original girl had terrible taste in friends; not a single ride-or-die among them. The most disgusting text came from Luke. He asked me if I had "learned my lesson yet." Lesson? It’s a free country. Did he think he could hang me from the city walls? I typed "F--- off," hit send, and blocked him. Learn my lesson? Eat dirt. 8. After liquidating everything, I checked out of the motel carrying a large black trash bag. Inside was my entire life: my cheap clothes, plus the disposable toothbrush and slippers from the hotel. Manhattan hotels were too pricey. I decided to move out to Queens or maybe Jersey. The only reason I hadn't left the city yet was that I needed to pick up my college diploma. Before I transmigrated here, I had dropped out after middle school to work in a factory. I was a fish that slipped through the net of compulsory education. Now, I was about to be a college graduate with a degree. Just thinking about it made me excited. Modern novels have zero logic when torturing cannon fodder. Why would a girl with a bachelor's degree go work at a shady bar just to get humiliated by the male lead? Does she have a degradation kink? 9. I went back to school the day after graduation. I did it on purpose. Seeing Lana’s triumphant, gloating face once was enough. I didn't need a sequel. We were technically roommates, though I had only slept in the dorms maybe twice. During school, I lived in a luxury apartment the Sterlings bought near campus, complete with a maid. It drove Lana, who was working part-time jobs, crazy with jealousy. Classic "compare and despair" plot device. It was one of the reasons she hated me. But it wasn't my fault. It wasn't even my biological parents' fault. They were migrant workers who just happened to give birth in the hospital room next to the VIP suite on the same day a business rival of the Sterlings decided to swap the babies. My bio-parents were poor, but they did their best. They raised Lana well enough to get into the same top-tier university as me before they both passed away from illness. I didn't understand why the Sterling family felt the need to humiliate those two dead old people. What was their crime? Is being poor a sin? 10. I went to the academic advisor's office alone to collect my degree. I wasn't going to let Lana lead a mob to humiliate me at the ceremony. Graduation is just a ritual. The principal moving my tassel from right to left wouldn't add a single zero to my bank account. Why humiliate myself for people I’d never see again? My advisor looked at me with concern. "Lexi, if you need anything, let me know." "I'm fine. Thank you." Aside from the insane Sterling family, the rest of the world was pretty normal. I really was fine. Compared to the heiress inheriting a billion-dollar empire, sure, I had fallen from heaven to hell. But compared to 90% of fresh graduates drowning in student loans with no job lined up? I had cash in my pocket. "Save your help for someone who needs it. I got this!"
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