The moment my roommate, Phoebe Davis, learned I had three guys waiting in the wings—a solid, well-curated roster of backups—she let out a laugh that was half-joke, half-condescending snicker. “Honestly, I feel bad for your future husband,” Phoebe said, swiping through TikTok on her phone. “He’s going to drain his 401k just for the down payment on a wife who’s already been driven around the block a few times.” I considered this for a moment. She wasn't wrong, but the delivery was pure Phoebe—snide and dripping with manufactured innocence. “You know what?” I offered, shrugging. “I could always transfer one of them to you.” Phoebe’s eyes, glued to the screen of her phone, widened instantly. 1 “I... I don’t know about that,” she stammered, her gaze darting everywhere but at me. Then, the air around us shimmered with an imagined text overlay—a phenomenon I’d grown numb to, but one that Phoebe seemed utterly reliant on. [OMG PHOEBE! Don't even hesitate! Skylar’s backups aren't just anyone!] [A Wall Street CEO, a Biker Bad Boy, and a Boston Trust Fund Prince—all ripped, all rich, all prime quality. This is the stuff of fantasies!] [Heh, the thought of Phoebe getting all the fish Skylar carefully baited is just so delicious.] [I’m already craving the scene where Phoebe brings her whole harem to rub it in Skylar’s face, watching the look of wild regret on the villainess's face! Get it, girlie!] Phoebe’s expression cycled through shock, disbelief, and finally, settled on a look of utter, greedy ecstasy. “You have three guys on rotation, right?” she declared, her tone suddenly booming with the confidence of a shopper at a luxury outlet. “I want all of them.” I let out a soft, appreciative chuckle. “Three at once might give you indigestion,” I said, leaning back. “Let’s start with one. Once you’ve secured him completely, then we can talk about the other two.” Phoebe hesitated, then nodded sharply. “Fine. But don't you dare regret this later.” “No regrets,” I promised. “One backup for ten thousand dollars. Cash only.” Her jaw dropped. “Wait, you’re charging me? Ten grand? Are you serious? Just go rob a bank!” I remained cool, unbothered. “Oh. In that case, let’s forget I offered.” The imaginary comments immediately flared up in a panic: [NO, PHOEBE! Don’t let this opportunity slip! This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal!] [These men are worth billions, you idiot! Ten thousand dollars is nothing! You’ll be swimming in ten million once you reel them in!] [Skylar is so shortsighted, it's sickening. A poor girl with no class. If she knew she was trading a multi-billionaire for ten grand, she’d be clawing at the walls with regret!] Phoebe swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the ceiling where the imaginary words hovered. “Fine,” she conceded, her voice a strained whisper. “Ten thousand. Deal.” 2 It took Phoebe a week to scrape the cash together. In the meantime, I had carefully selected which of my current prospects I would pass on—the fish I was ready to release back into the stream. “Ashton Lennox, 21 years old, six-foot-two, eight-pack abs,” I recited, handing her a burner phone and a gaming console account. “He’s a student at the university across town, from a very average background. We met playing this game.” I continued my detailed briefing, every word a subtle lie designed to maintain the narrative I’d created. “He occasionally buys me takeout coffee—the gifts never cost more than thirty bucks. His parents’ messy divorce left him with serious attachment issues. He's very sensitive and needs constant reassurance.” I looked her dead in the eye, offering the full customer-service rundown. “I’ve established myself as the ‘Gentle, Understanding Older Woman.’ You have to maintain that persona and give him all the security he craves.” [Hahaha, the villainess still thinks the main guy is just a poor college student. Our Ashton is just testing her—he hates gold-diggers, so he acts broke!] [To think Skylar spent all that time only to get a few cheap coffee orders, and our girl Phoebe gets everything for free! I can’t stop laughing!] Phoebe’s lips curled into a smug half-smile. The moment the accounts were hers, she changed the passwords. She gave me a pointed, triumphant look. “Skylar, when I’ve got this guy secured, you’re going to be so sorry you let him go.” I smiled sweetly. “I won’t regret it. I only hope you don’t.” Phoebe just scoffed, dismissing me. She immediately logged in and began chatting with "Ashton." For the next few weeks, Phoebe was inseparable from her phone, either texting him or playing the game with him. The imaginary commentary confirmed that things were going well: Ashton hadn't noticed the switch. Phoebe, guided by the online cheerleaders, was slowly erasing my digital footprint and meticulously executing the seduction plan. A fortnight later, Phoebe walked into our dorm room. The first thing I noticed was the dazzling sparkle on her neck—a massive diamond necklace. She immediately noticed my stare, tossing her head back with a triumphant smirk. “Ashton bought me this necklace,” she announced. “I looked it up online. It’s worth over two million dollars.” I nodded slowly, offering a simple, “It’s beautiful.” Phoebe sighed dramatically. “Honestly, I don't get men,” she mused. “You’re so much prettier and smarter than I am, and you were with him for so long. All he ever got you was a few cheap coffees. I’m just average and a little clumsy, and we’ve only been talking for two weeks, but he sends me this million-dollar piece. Why do you think that is?” What else could I say? “Because,” I explained, my voice flat, “he was pretending to be broke the entire time he was talking to me.” 3 I knew Ashton was rich. Of course I did. That’s why I pursued him in the first place. We’d met on a high-stakes mobile game. That game had two kinds of players: whales who drop tens of thousands of dollars without a second thought, and people like me who hustle to sell account boosts for cash. Ashton was the former. I was the latter. The moment I saw his game avatar, clad in gear that would cost six figures in real money, I knew he was no ordinary catch. A once-in-a-lifetime sight. I immediately began my calculated pursuit. Daily dungeon runs, sweet morning and goodnight texts, endless concerned inquiries. I waited patiently, and one night, after he poured out a sob story about the 'pain of his unstable childhood,' I solidified my persona as the ‘Gentle, Understanding Older Woman’—the one stable, maternal figure he needed. The needy, emotionally starved boy was securely hooked. Perhaps he feared that everyone who got close to him only wanted his money. Ashton had adopted the cover of a cash-strapped, average college student with poor grades and a plain appearance. He’d often play the pitiful victim, asking me in a small, vulnerable voice, “Babe, am I really worth your love, being so ordinary? I’m so scared you’ll meet the real me, be disappointed, and just… leave.” I’d be silently rolling my eyes at his full complement of custom, god-tier game gear. For a rich guy, dropping a million in a mobile game is probably like dropping a hundred bucks for a normal person—they don’t even notice the cost. He hadn't even realized how badly he'd exposed himself. But I’d reply with syrupy sweetness: “Never. In my heart, you are the most special little puppy. I could never leave you.” Ashton seemed determined to maintain the ‘broke’ narrative. He was incredibly cheap. His coffee orders were from no-name chains, and his gifts were usually nine-ninety-nine-and-free-shipping junk from Amazon. But his sweet talk was on point, he consistently carried me in the game, and he’d occasionally send me scorching-hot, borderline-explicit photos of his abs. For a while, I genuinely liked him. Until one time. I was rushing to a gig on my scooter when I crashed into a road barrier. My right leg was fractured, and a kind stranger rushed me to the ER. The x-rays, the hospital stay, the follow-up physical therapy—it came to over twenty thousand dollars. I was desperate. I took a picture of myself in the hospital bed, looking pathetic, and reached out to Ashton. “Babe, can you lend me some cash? I promise I’ll pay you back the second I’m better!” His response? Silence. For an entire month, Ashton did not reply. Luckily, I found a new prospect who covered the hospital bill. Otherwise, I might have been permanently disabled. It was only after I was fully recovered and discharged that Ashton resumed our chat, acting as if nothing had happened—daily good mornings, constant life updates. The jerk. Why didn’t he just wait for me to die and then send flowers to my grave? I wanted to dump him then and there. But I couldn't find the right moment. You don’t just casually break up with a guy who can crush you socially or financially without a second thought. A messy exit could have serious repercussions. So I played along, performing affection while shifting my focus to other men in my portfolio. Maybe he sensed the chill. Ashton’s neediness and possessiveness exploded. He started relentlessly pushing for us to meet in person. Absolutely not. Online life is one thing. It can't contaminate my real-world hustle. I was trying to figure out how to put him off when Phoebe, my convenient roommate, stepped up. She’d taken this spoiled, demanding idiot off my hands. Perfect. If she could actually manage to get money out of Ashton, that was her skill, not my loss. At least I had secured ten thousand dollars, cold hard cash. Since my low-key attitude failed to provoke her, Phoebe dropped the topic of the necklace. “By the way, Ashton wants to meet up in person,” she said, her eyes flicking to mine. “He said to bring all my roommates—he wants to treat us to dinner and get to know you guys.” She slowly twisted the knife. “Skylar, you’re free the day after tomorrow, right?” [Awww, finally, the highly anticipated confrontation! Will Skylar break down?] [The villainess thinks he’s an ordinary guy, but when she sees our Ashton is a total Greek god in person, she's going to be absolutely demolished!] [Oh, but I'm worried. What if Skylar decides she wants him back? What if she tries to steal him from our girl?] [Relax! Ashton is clearly obsessed with Phoebe now. Even if he knows the truth, he’ll choose her without hesitation!] [If Skylar tries anything, Ashton will protect Phoebe and crush her!] 4 I was ready to decline. But then Phoebe mentioned it. Ashton was bringing a welcome gift for each roommate. A solid gold chain for everyone. I immediately canceled my plans. Damn capitalism! The day of the dinner, I wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, no makeup, and chose the seat furthest from the head of the table. I wanted zero attention. Phoebe was the star. When Ashton walked in, I glanced up. Pale skin, perfect, chiseled features. An aura of cool, detached entitlement that only comes with obscene wealth. Yes, I thought. Definitely a guy who can drop a million in a mobile game without blinking. After my momentary appraisal, I went back to looking at my phone. Ashton’s eyes lingered on me for a second, then quickly moved on. Phoebe rushed to greet him, all fake sweetness. “You’re late, sweetie! Punishment: you have to peel all my shrimp for me later.” She reached out to take his hand. He subtly sidestepped the touch. “My apologies for the delay,” Ashton said with a faint smile. “I brought some gifts for everyone. Thank you all for taking care of my girlfriend.” He turned to Phoebe. “Sweetie, will you introduce me to your roommates?” “Of course.” Phoebe went down the line, but when she got to me, she paused, a venomous smile playing on her lips. “And this is Skylar Rhodes. The campus queen. Beautiful, smart, and a long line of admirers. She’s famous for juggling three guys at once, so she’s pretty talented.” Ashton froze. “Three…?” I looked up, meeting his intense, dark gaze. I gave him a calm, casual smile. “Correction. Only two now.” Ashton stared at me, his eyes wide and unblinking. The atmosphere turned instantly arctic. Luckily, the waiter chose that moment to serve the main course, easing the tension. During the meal, Phoebe worked overtime to show off their ‘relationship,’ demanding Ashton feed her and peel her shrimp. I kept my head down, hunched in the corner, casually eating and texting on my phone. Suddenly, my phone was snatched out of my hand. I looked up. Ashton was standing over me, his face disturbingly calm. “Why are you on your phone the whole time? Is the food not to your liking?” The nerve of this guy. Zero boundaries. I frowned, simply holding out my hand, silently demanding my phone back. Ashton ignored me, instead glancing down at the screen. “What’s so interesting? Can I see?” The vibe was getting seriously weird. Phoebe, looking confused, chimed in hesitantly. “Skylar always eats lightly, Ashton. Just ignore her, let’s keep eating.” He didn't acknowledge her. He just kept his unsettling gaze on me, then asked, each word distinct and loaded: “Who, exactly, are you texting?” Uh oh. Even the thickest person at the table should have noticed the shift. Phoebe’s voice was trembling. “Ashton, what is the meaning of this? You’ve been staring at Skylar since you walked in! You won’t even talk to me! Do you even want to be with me anymore?” Ashton looked at her with pure, cold disdain. He tsked softly. He didn't even bother to explain. He just delivered a sharp command: “Ten seconds. Take your roommates and leave. I’ll let this slide. Otherwise… you won’t want to know the consequences of my bad mood.” Phoebe’s eyes welled up, but her two other, more self-preserving roommates quickly pulled her away, practically dragging her out of the restaurant. I considered a swift exit, but Ashton was already standing in front of me, blocking the path. His eyes were red, and his voice cracked with a wounded sound. “It’s just us now. Can you explain?” He sounded genuinely heartbroken. “Why did you give the account to your roommate? Why did you dump me? You said I was your good little puppy, your most special one! Why did you have other backups behind my back?” Ashton’s questions came faster and louder. He slammed my phone onto the table in front of me. “Is it because of this ‘(872) 422-xxxx Ryder Jensen, the Race Car God’? Is this jerk hitting on you? You’ve been texting him nonstop since I walked in!” He was panting now. “I saw he sent you a bunch of chest selfies! That shameless loser, hitting on another man’s girlfriend! What does he have that I don’t? Skylar, say something!”
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