Dating a Broke Billionaire

Three months into our online relationship, we had settled into a routine of mostly texting, with the occasional voice call. Video chats were a rare indulgence.Every video call felt like a high-stakes guerrilla operation to me. I had to constantly brace myself for the sudden blast of music or a neighbor’s kid’s high-pitched meltdown from downstairs. To him, I presented myself as a young woman striving in a big city, living humbly while staying optimistic and bright. Terry, on the other hand, claimed to be a regular office worker in a small, unheard-of company. Apparently, he resided in some company housing. His back was always facing the pitch-black curtain, and the lighting was forever dimmed. We bonded over figuring out which cafeteria dish was the worst that day.Otherwise, we vented about the sardine-packed subways. We were drawn together by the idea that misery loves company, forming an online relationship that others might call sketchy. Everything changed on the G

It was the first thing in the morning on a Saturday. I put on my best outfit—a pair of washed-out jeans, a relatively new beige knit cardigan, and a pair of clean canvas shoes. Standing at the mouth of the tight alleyway, I held two bulging fertilizer sacks, still smelling of earth, between me. I whipped out my phone and opened the navigation app before punching in the mouthful of an address. “7 Maple Street, West Hills.” Taking a deep breath, I trotted ahead on my journey with doomed determination. It was a nightmare to take the bus during the morning rush. My sacks of local produce were in everybody’s way, earning me eyerolls and disgruntled mumbles. “Hey! Watch it! What is this so heavy?” “Stop pushing! Go to the back! Go!” “Are you seriously hauling sacks on the bus? Who does that anyway? Are you like, moving house?” Keeping a smile on my face, I kept apologizing and moving out of the way. This was all for love, or rather, truth. All I needed to do was suck it

I froze, feeling like the marble floor sizzling beneath my canvas shoes. “Come on.” Terry gave my hand a little squeeze and tugged me along like I was a startled rabbit. “I’ll show you around my place.” The entire space gave off a solid, heavy, and wealthy vibe. It basically screamed ‘Terry’s dad’.It was nothing like the place of a twenty-something. “Uh… Is this your study?” The way I looked at it, this was clearly Tyson’s command center. Terry read my mind. Like a magic trick, he pulled out a pile of junk food. I was talking about chips, beef jerky, and bottles of fizz. “This is my hideout.” He grabbed a bag of chips and gave it a shake, looking a little pleased with himself. “My dad banned junk food from the common areas. He claimed that it ruins the estate’s aesthetics.” He ripped the pack open. “Want some? This should calm your nerves.” I was lost for words. Just as I stared at the heir clutching a bag of chips in his six-figure suit, something in me snapped

The setting sun bathed the vast estate in a warm orange hue. The terrace had been fully set up.Taking the hint, Tyson retreated to a distance. “Does your dad find me that annoying?” I spoke in hushed tones, my eyes never leaving the receding figure. I wouldn’t call his swift escape subtle. Terry chuckled. His slender fingers found mine under the table. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just getting the hang of some third-wheel etiquette.” Silence filled the air, broken only by rustling leaves and the sound of our breaths. Whirr! A heavy, mechanical hum cut through the quiet of the evening.It gathered speed, rapidly coming closer. Startled, I nearly sprang off my seat and looked up abruptly at the sky. Countless soft lights sparkled across the black velvet sky. I stood corrected. These weren’t stars.They were drones. An organized swarm of drones rose from every corner of the estate, assembling in the air. The lights rippled and shifted in ever-changing patterns