HER LOST BROTHER IS A BILLIONAIRE

Nathan spotted his daughter outside with a guy through the window. He nodded repeatedly, and he held his peace waiting for her to come inside.

“Dad, good evening,” Samantha said gently as she stepped into the living room, her voice calm.

“Good evening,” Nathan replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And who was that you were talking with outside?”

Samantha hesitated for a moment, then answered, “He’s just a friend, Dad.”

Nathan leaned forward, his tone sharpening. “A friend? After everything I’ve told you? After all my advice? Why do you keep making friends with these broke boys who have nothing to offer?”

Samantha looked down, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

“I’ve told you over and over again,” Nathan continued, his voice rising with frustration, “you need to shine your eyes on that campus. That school is not just any school — it’s a place filled with the sons and daughters of millionaires and billionaires. People with real opportunities. And instead of connecting with those who could help shape your future, you choose the opposite.”

He shook his head slowly, disappointment etched across his face. “It’s like poverty has sunk into your brain. Like you’ve accepted it as your reality.”

“Dad!” Samantha called out, her voice rising with a mix of shock and frustration.

“Dad, what?” Nathan snapped, turning sharply to face her. “Dad, what exactly?”

He took a step closer, his tone firm and full of disappointment. “Samantha, if you know what’s good for you, you'd better sit up and start thinking clearly. I don’t know if you had taken a good look at the person you called ‘just a friend.’ No car. No direction. No clear future. Nothing to show for himself.”

Samantha opened her mouth to respond, but Nathan didn’t give her the chance.

“I’ve warned you before,” he continued, his voice growing louder. “I don’t know why you want me to keep repeating myself. The school is full of people who could actually help you build something. But it’s like you’ve made peace with poverty. Like you’ve accepted it as your destiny. And I won’t stand by and watch you do that.”

Without another word, Nathan turned and walked out of the living room into his room. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate. The door to his room shut with a quiet finality.

Samantha is a student at New York University (NYU), where she studies Management and Technology. Her course teaches her how to run a business and use modern technology to solve problems. NYU is a top school, but very expensive. Most of the students there come from rich families—some are children of millionaires and even billionaires.

Samantha’s story is different. She worked hard and was lucky enough to get a scholarship. That scholarship had allowed her to study at NYU without paying the high fees. When she got accepted, it felt like a dream come true. She promised herself she would make the most of this rare opportunity.

Every day on campus reminds her of how far she’s come. She’s focused, determined, and proud of what she’s achieved. She’s also the class coordinator—someone her classmates respect and rely on. She helps organize things and makes sure everyone stays on track.

But back home, her parents see things differently. They believe success comes from who you know. To them, being around rich students is a chance to build connections that could help her in the future. They want her to make friends with the wealthy students, hoping those relationships will open doors.

Samantha understands their hopes, but she also wants to stay true to herself. She believes success should come from hard work, not just from knowing the right people. She’s caught between two worlds—trying to honor her parents’ wishes while following her own path.

“Hello, fine girl,” a voice called out as she made her way to her morning class.

She turned, slightly startled, and saw a tall, handsome guy standing just a few steps away. He had a warm smile on his face, the kind that felt friendly and easy. Something was charming about him — not flashy, but calm and confident.

“Hi,” Samantha replied, offering a small, hesitant smile.

“I’m Jake,” he said, stretching out his hand for a handshake. “And you?”

Samantha paused. Her eyes quickly scanned him from head to toe — simple sneakers, no designer labels, no expensive watch. He doesn’t look like he has money, she thought. This is another broke guy. Why do they always find their way to me?

She hesitated for a moment longer, her thoughts raced. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: Shine your eyes. Look for the ones who can change your life.

“And… I’m Samantha,” she said finally, reaching out to meet his hand with hers.

Their hands met in a gentle shake. It was brief because Samantha had quickly made it short.

"I must tell you, you look beautiful for real. I think you came straight from heaven only to bless someone this afternoon. Because, for real, you look like an angel."

Samantha burst into smiling, shaking her head in amusement. "Jake, or whatever you call yourself, please! Don’t flatter me. It’s too early for this!"

"I’m not flattering. You know I’m telling the truth. Since I arrived on this campus, I thought the flowers were what made it beautiful. But now I know—it’s you. You’re the reason this place shines."

Samantha threw her hands up dramatically, pretending to faint. "Someone help me! I need water on my head because this boy is going to finish me today!" She fanned herself with both hands, turning around as if overwhelmed.

Jake burst into laughter, watching her playful reaction. As Samantha looked at him, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His calm eyes, the way he carried himself—it was distracting. A strange thought crossed Samantha’s mind as she looked at Jake: If I were a guy and

he were a lady, I’d probably be trying to toast him by now.

She blinked, surprised by her own imagination, and quickly shook the thought away. Focus, Samantha, she told herself. This is not the kind of man you need.

“I think I need to go now,” she said quickly, trying to sound casual. “Thanks for the compliment.”

She took a step forward, hoping to leave the moment behind, but Jake’s voice stopped her gently.

“I think we’re heading to the same place — MG-UY 3004 lecture class.”

Samantha slowed down, turning slightly. “Are you in my class?. Are you in my department?” she asked, curious now.

Jake walked up beside her, “Yes, but I’m in my final year,” he said with a small smile. “The course is a carryover for me.”

“Oh,” Samantha replied, and they began walking side by side toward the lecture hall.