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

I collapsed onto the ground, utterly drained of strength. Dr. Wright knelt beside me, his voice a distant hum of consolation, but none of his words could reach me. My mother's words from long ago echoed faintly in my mind. "I don't oppose your relationship with Elliott," she had said, her tone cautious. "But we're just an ordinary family. The disparity in your backgrounds will only bring you heartache in the future." At the time, I was too swept up in the sweetness of Elliott to take her seriously. "Don't worry, Mom," I had replied with an air of certainty. "Elliott treats me so well. He even promised he'd never hurt me." But now, the deepest wound I carried was inflicted by Elliott himself. A man's promises are as fleeting as the wind; believing in them is a fool's errand. I clung to my mother's cold, lifeless body and sobbed. "Mom, I'll listen to you. I won't have anything to do with Elliott ever again. From now on, I'll do whatever you say. Just… open your eyes and loo

I was fortunate—the caretaker of the cemetery hired me without hesitation. Every morning, I would place a fresh daisy on my mother's grave, then clean the grounds. Afternoons were spent wiping headstones. I kept my hands busy and my thoughts steady. Occasionally, when new urns were brought in, I'd lend a hand. My days were simple yet full, and in that rhythm, not once did I think of Elliott. The day we broke up, I blocked all his contacts. After all, our lives had diverged; we were parallel lines heading in opposite directions. Sometimes, I'd see glimpses of him in Tiffany's social media updates, but I never lingered. My finger would swipe past the posts without a second thought. My mother was right—we were from two entirely different worlds, and forcing ourselves together had always been futile. The days in the cemetery were tranquil and fulfilling, though lately, I'd often see Connor. I still remember our first encounter. Curious, I'd asked, "Dr. Wright, did you lose anot

I thought I was done with Elliott for good. Yet, when I stepped out the next morning, his car was there again, parked in the same spot. "Candice," he greeted me with a cheerful smile. "Riding your bike to work isn't convenient. Let me drive you instead." I wanted no part of this entanglement. With measured politeness, I declined. His smile vanished as he stepped out of the car, his expression darkening. "If you want that Dr. Wright to keep his job at the hospital, you'll get in the car." I stared at him, stunned. "Are you insane?" He shrugged, utterly unbothered by my outburst. "Insane? Sure. If it means having you back, I can do far crazier things." Left with no choice, I climbed into his car. Like a magician unveiling a trick, Elliott revealed a spread of my favorite breakfasts. It was like a miniature breakfast shop in his passenger seat. His puppy-dog eyes fixed on me, as if refusing to eat would crush his fragile ego. I reluctantly picked a croissant and sipped s

I stared at Conner, startled, but before I could dwell on it, he pulled me close and led me away without another word. Soon, a nurse arrived to treat his wounds. He sat obediently in the chair, though his face twisted in pain. "Carrie, could you please be a little gentler?" he grimaced, trying to sound lighthearted. The head nurse shot him a sidelong glance, her tone sharp yet composed. "Dr. Wright, you're not a young man anymore. Picking fights like this? You deserve the pain." Conner inhaled sharply, wincing again as she worked. I noticed him sneaking quick glances at me. The head nurse raised her voice. "If I go easy, how will the girl feel sorry for you?" She wrapped up her task deftly and left the room, disappearing as quickly as she had come. Now, the small space was quiet, leaving only Conner and me in awkward silence. Neither of us spoke, and an awkward tension hung in the air like a thick fog. Finally, it was Conner who broke the stillness. He looked at me with a f