My Ex Called Me a Gold Digger

"Elliott, can you lend me seventy thousand dollars?"

The lively chatter in the private room of the bar ceased abruptly, as if someone had flipped a switch.

Elliott Mason's expression darkened in an instant. His deep, unreadable eyes locked onto mine, piercing and unrelenting. "Seventy thousand? What for?"

Before I could answer, a soft laugh broke the silence. It came from Tiffany Taylor, Elliott's childhood friend sitting by his side.

"I told you, didn't I? Some people pretend to be all innocent and pure, but the moment the opportunity arises, they'll find a way to scam you for money. And you didn't believe me." She leaned closer to Elliott, her tone mocking. "You said it was true love, but look at her now, asking for money. Seems like, to her, your wallet is more important than you are."

Her words stung, and as she spoke, she didn't forget to glance at me with a smirk that made my stomach turn.

I stared at Elliott, hoping for even a shred of defense, but he didn't move. He just sat there, listening to Tiffany's ridicule without lifting an eyelid.

The others noticed his indifference, their eyes flashing with surprise before their attitudes shifted.

It was no secret that Tiffany didn't like me. Most in Elliott's circle didn't. They believed I had stolen her rightful place and brazenly inserted myself into a world where I didn't belong.

Normally, Elliott shielded me, and out of respect—or perhaps fear—they would grudgingly be nice to me. But now, with Elliott silent, their restraint crumbled.

"Candice, you're really bold, aren't you? Asking for seventy thousand just like that."

"Do you think Elliott's money grows on trees?"

The room erupted into a cacophony of jeers.

"That's why you should never date poor people. Otherwise, you end up acting like a charity."

"And those harmless-looking ones? They're the worst. When they ask for money, they don't hold back at all."

"Candice, robbing a bank might be faster, don't you think?"

Someone even made a crude joke. "Or you could come to me. I'll give you ten thousand. Think about it."

Elliott raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say a word. Instead, it was Tiffany who gasped in mock horror. "Don't be so crude. She's just asking for money, not selling herself. You'll scare the poor girl." She turned to me with that same triumphant smirk.

I felt like a clown in the center of their derision, every mocking word slicing through me. Elliott remained a silent observer, watching it all unfold as though it were a play staged for his amusement.

The pain was suffocating, but I had no room for despair. My mother needed this money for surgery. Gritting my teeth, I turned back to him and pleaded, "Elliott, my mother is sick. I really need this money. Please, can you help me?"

The words had barely left my mouth when Tiffany chuckled again.

"Candice, at least come up with a better lie. Don't you know we've heard these clichés a million times online?"

"No, it's not like that," I tried to explain, my voice trembling. "My mom had a sudden heart attack. She needs an urgent bypass surgery—"

Before I could finish, Elliott stood abruptly and strode toward me. He grabbed my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes were as dark and fathomless as the ocean at midnight.

"Candice, do you think I don't know the truth? Your mother's medical report from earlier this year is still sitting in my office. She's perfectly fine." His voice was cold. "A heart attack? How far are you willing to go with your lies? I love you so much, and this is how you see me? Just a fool for you to milk dry?"

I tried to pry his fingers off, but his grip was unyielding. I had never seen this side of him before—so terrifying, so cold.

"No… it's not like that! I didn't lie to you!" I cried, my voice breaking.

"Candice, you've truly disappointed me," he said flatly. Then, without warning, he yanked me by the collar and flung me toward the table.

My forehead struck the edge with precision, and a sharp pain shot through me. Warm blood trickled down my temple, staining my vision red.

Tiffany gasped theatrically. "Elliott, take it easy! She's still a girl, after all."

Elliott ignored her entirely. His cold and calculating gaze never left me. "I'll give you the seventy thousand," he said at last.

For a moment, hope flickered in my eyes.

Then he spoke again, "Drink every bottle of whiskey on this table, and the money is yours."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief.

He knew I couldn't drink.