His Secretary Stole My Living Expenses for 3 Years

My boyfriend, Ethan Vance, missed my 26th birthday party because of a business trip. Instead, he sent his female assistant, Melanie, to deliver my gift.

I opened the box, only to find a dress from a brand I'd never heard of. The lace around the collar was already frayed and snagged.

One of my friends scoffed. "Isn't your boyfriend a billionaire?

Why on earth did he send you a secondhand dress?" Melanie quickly chimed in with an apologetic smile. "Chloe, I actually suggested that Ethan buy you a diamond necklace.

But he insisted that the gift shouldn't cost more than a thousand dollars." I stroked the rough lace of the dress, my fingertips turning icy cold.

Ethan was the rising star of Silicon Valley, the CEO of a hot new AI tech company. We had been dating for three years.

To everyone else, I was the lucky girl who had hit the jackpot. But in reality, Ethan was incredibly stingy.

Melanie was always whispering in my ear: "Chloe, Ethan's startup is in a tough spot. Every dollar needs to go toward company expansion.

You have to be understanding." I admired his talent and drive, so I tolerated it. For three years.

I tolerated it so much that even when I got a severe stomach infection one night, I didn't dare go to the hospital because I was afraid of the bill. But this time, I was done.

The moment he got back from his business trip, I broke up with him. Ethan's eyes went red with fury. "Chloe, Melanie was right. You're just a gold digger.

I wire you thirty million dollars a year, and you're still not satisfied?" "Did you find yourself a richer sugar daddy?" I froze. I had never received a single dollar of his money.

I glanced at Melanie, who was standing right next to him. In that split second, everything clicked. Someone had been pocketing my money.

Before the birthday party even ended, Ethan's call came through. "Do you like the gift I sent?" I stared at the cheap dress on the table, feeling like he was mockingly asking a question he already knew the answer to. "I love it," I said softly.

He just muttered a cold "Good," apologized for being busy, and hung up. The giggles around the room grew louder.

One of my friends dragged out her words, mocking me. "Wow, Chloe, you really have a great temper." On my way back to my apartment, I couldn't help but look back at the past.

Three and a half years ago, Ethan was kicked out of his family's business. His accounts were frozen.

I was the one who stayed by his side in a rundown, moldy studio apartment, eating cheap instant ramen for over six months.

Later, he fought his way back, taking over Vance Technologies and climbing straight to the top. But then, tragedy struck my family. My dad ran off to escape his massive debts.

I had cosigned for him, which meant I lost everything overnight. Ethan held my hand back then and told me, "It's my turn to take care of you." I believed him.

But during my first month in this apartment, Melanie approached me with a worried face. "Chloe, Ethan set your monthly allowance at five hundred dollars.

He said you already have a place to live and food to eat, so you don't need much." Five hundred dollars. I thought I had misheard her.

I gathered my courage and brought it up to him once. "Ethan, things are a bit tight lately." He looked up from his laptop, seemingly surprised. "You went through the money that fast?" Then, he shrugged carelessly. "If you need anything, just let Melanie handle it." It was as if the topic wasn't even worth ten seconds of his time.

I stood there, my heart sinking inch by inch. He knew Melanie was managing the money. He simply assumed that if I was broke, it was because I was spending too much.

That night, Melanie came to see me. Her eyes were red. "Chloe, Ethan is under a lot of pressure right now.

The board members are watching his personal accounts closely." "Once this phase passes, I'll slowly talk to him for you, okay?" I waited. For three whole years.

On my phone, the transaction history spanned thirtysix months. Perfectly consistent. Five hundred dollars every month. I stared at the screen, my nose stinging.

Back when he had absolutely nothing, he would give me the only egg we could afford to put in our cheap instant ramen.

How was it that now, when he had everything, he wouldn't even give me enough money to feed myself properly?

By the time the property manager sent the third warning text, the power and water in my apartment were cut off.

I scrambled through all my accounts but couldn't even scrape together three hundred dollars. I wanted to find a proper job, but my father's debts had ruined my credit score.

I was blacklisted, forced to take underthetable cash jobs. My weak stomach couldn't handle the heavy physical labor.

Swallowing my pride, I went to find Melanie. "Melanie, I don't care about his stress anymore." I slammed the utility bill onto her desk. "I can't live without water and electricity." She looked at the bill, her face instantly filling with deep guilt. "Chloe, listen to me—" "I actually brought it up to Ethan again last night.

He blew up.

He threw his coffee mug and said..." She trailed off, looking hesitant. "Said what?" "He said... if you think it's too little, you should go out and earn your own damn money." My brain went entirely numb. "Chloe, let me lend you two thousand dollars of my own money first." She grabbed my hand tightly. "But please, do not bring this up to Ethan again." "If you really make him angry, he might even take back this apartment..." The two thousand dollars hit my account.

Half of me felt immense gratitude, while the other half felt a chilling cold. The person helping me was his assistant. But the person starving me was the man himself.

I used the money to pay off the utilities and budgeted the rest down to twenty dollars a day.

On the third day, Ethan's driver showed up at my door, holding a premium wine box. "Miss Chloe, Mr. Vance was in the neighborhood.

He wanted me to drop off this bottle of red wine for you." There was a card inside, written in Ethan's bold, elegant handwriting: I'll come see you when I'm done with work.

I closed the door and, on a whim, looked up the price of the wine. The number that popped up on my screen was enough to keep me alive for four months.

A bottle of wine he just "happened" to drop off was worth over two thousand dollars. But my monthly living allowance was five hundred.

I sat in my dark living room, clutching the bottle of wine, laughing until tears came out. In his eyes, I wasn't even worth a random bottle of wine.

That night, my stomach ulcer flared up. I had to take a midnight Uber to the ER. I had to swipe three different credit cards just to cover the basic medical bill.

As I lay on a gurney in the crowded hallway with an IV drip, a news notification popped up on my phone. Ethan Vance Donates Ten Million Dollars to Name the Annual Charity Gala.

In the picture, he was wearing a tailored suit, smiling flawlessly.

The comment section was flooded with people praising his "generosity" and calling him a "true visionary." I stared at those words for a very, very long time.

Tears fell silently down my cheeks. He was generous to the entire world, but incredibly stingy only to me.

I found a scrap piece of paper and began to write down the accounts of the past three years, line by line. How many times my power had been cut. How many times I had fallen ill.

How much money I had borrowed from Melanie. How many of my milestones he had missed. I filled the entire page. For three years, how many excuses had I made for him? He's too busy.

He hasn't recovered from his family trauma. He's bad at expressing himself. He loves me deep down. To hell with his excuses!

The utility warnings, the cheap dress, the expensive wine, the tenmilliondollar donation— One by one, they tore my illusions to shreds. It wasn't that he didn't know how to love.

He just didn't love me.

At 8:00 AM, I marched straight to the Vance Technologies headquarters. Just as I walked into the lobby, Melanie ran into me.

She froze. "Chloe?" She rushed over, looking shocked. "Why are you here? Did something happen?" I looked at her dead in the eye. "Melanie, I need to talk to Ethan today.

I need answers." Her face went pale instantly. "Chloe, absolutely not today!" She grabbed my arm, her voice low and frantic. "The board of directors is upstairs having a major merger meeting.

All the shareholders are there. If you make a scene now, how will Ethan look?" "How much money do you need? I can transfer you twenty thousand, fifty thousand, whatever you want!

Just go home first, please?" If this had been yesterday, I probably would have listened to her. But I shook my head and pulled my arm back. "No.

I need to hear it from him facetoface." At the elevator, she grabbed me again, practically begging. "I'll give you my annual bonus first! A hundred thousand dollars!

Just wait until he's done with this busy period, and I'll help you talk to him..." My eyes grew hot.

For three years, she was the only one who had spoken up for me and lent me money time and time again.

But this time, I wouldn't back down. "Thank you, Melanie," I said. "But I can't let you be my middleman forever.

Even if we break up today, I want my payoff directly from him." Just as the elevator doors were about to close, she squeezed in. During the ride up, her face grew whiter and whiter.

I assumed she was just worried about me. I pushed open the door to the CEO's office. Ethan was busy signing documents. Seeing me, he looked genuinely surprised.

Before he could even smile, I hurled my anger straight at him. "Ethan Vance!

Did I ever complain about money when you were broke and sleeping on a cheap mattress?" "Now that you're rich, you treat me like a beggar!" "My power gets cut off.

I can't even afford my stomach meds. I spent all of last night lying on a gurney in a crowded ER hallway!" "And you?

You didn't even show up for my birthday, sent me a ruined, cheap dress, and then had the nerve to call and ask if I liked it!" "If you're tired of me, just say it!

I'll leave right now and never waste another second of your time!" Three years of buried pain finally erupted, and my voice shook violently. Ethan didn't yell back immediately.

He froze, slowly putting down his pen, his eyebrows knitting together. "Power cut off?" He repeated the words, his voice dropping. "ER? You were in the ER last night?

Why didn't anyone tell me?" "And who cut off your power?" His expression grew incredibly dark.

He suddenly stood up. "Chloe, what are you talking about?" "Have I ever treated you poorly?" "I wire you two hundred thousand dollars every single month!

And for your birthday, I personally bought an eightythousanddollar diamond necklace at an auction and explicitly ordered it to be delivered and put on you!" "Now you run into my office crying about being poor?

What is this game?" Two hundred thousand dollars. An eightythousanddollar diamond necklace. I stood completely frozen.

I knew all those words individually, but put together, they sounded like a foreign language.

The blood drained from my face. "Two hundred thousand?" My voice trembled. "Ethan, for the past three years, the only thing I received every month was five hundred dollars." The office fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

The anger on Ethan's face slowly turned into ice. He stared at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. After a long pause, he spoke. "That's impossible.

I had Melanie wire that money to you every month." My mind went completely blank. I saw Ethan's pupils contract. He had realized it too.

Right at that moment, a soft sound came from behind us. I slowly turned around.

Melanie was standing at the door, clutching a folder tightly to her chest, her face as white as a sheet of paper.

In the next second, the folder slipped from her hands, scattering papers all over the floor. Ethan followed my gaze.

He spoke one word at a time, his voice dripping with freezing anger. "Melanie. Where did the money I approved go?"

Melanie fell to her knees, tears instantly streaming down her face. "Ethan, I transferred all of it!" "Chloe spent it all and now she's lying! Her dad has so many debts.

The creditors probably seized the money the moment it hit her account. How is that my fault?" What a perfect performance. She knelt quickly, and she shifted the blame even quicker.

But I didn't waste time arguing with her. I walked up to Ethan's desk, slammed my phone down, and opened my bank statements. "See for yourself." Thirtysix months.

Every single transaction on the first of the month was five hundred dollars, sent from Melanie's personal account.

Nothing more. "She says the creditors took it," I said, staring at Melanie. "But the money has to enter my account first before it can be seized.

Two hundred thousand a month for three years is over seven million dollars. Where is the record of those deposits?

There isn't a single one." Melanie's knees shifted slightly on the carpet. "It... it was done in cash.

There wouldn't be any electronic bank statements..." "Cash?" I pulled out my stack of bills and receipts from my bag and slammed them on the desk one by one. "Then explain these." Three utility warning texts.

Power and water cut off. An ER bill for eleven hundred dollars, paid with three different cards. The IV drip record—showing I was placed in the hallway because a room cost extra.

And the transaction records of the "loans" she gave me—two thousand here, five thousand there.

I had signed a promissory note for every single one. "Would someone who receives two hundred thousand dollars in cash every month need to borrow two thousand dollars from you just to keep the lights on?" My voice was incredibly steady.

My miserable life over the past three years was something that couldn't be faked. Every single receipt was ironclad proof. Melanie tried to speak, but Ethan raised his hand.

With that single gesture, her voice died in her throat. He didn't even look at her.

He was slowly flipping through my receipts. "The night you had stomach bleeding," his voice was hoarse, "you took an Uber by yourself?" "Yes." "And you lay in the hallway all night?" "A room was too expensive." He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

When he opened them, they were bloodshot.

He suddenly spun around and kicked the heavy coffee table, sending it crashing to the floor. "Melanie!" he roared. "While she was lying in an ER hallway all night, where was the medical fund I approved for her?!" Melanie flinched violently, crying harder.

She pulled a stack of documents from the mess on the floor and held them up with trembling hands. "Ethan, I was wrong!

I shouldn't have hidden it from you—but Chloe begged me to do this!

She was terrified that the creditors would find out about the large sums of money, so she asked me to hold onto it for her and only transfer five hundred dollars to keep her off the grid!

She signed every single paper. This is the custody agreement!" I stepped closer to look, and my blood ran cold. It was my signature. It was real.

Every time she "lent" me money, she made me sign a receipt. I had actually been grateful to her for being so professional.

Now, those dozens of receipts had been patched together into a "custody agreement" I had never seen before. Before I could even speak— Ethan moved first.

He snatched the "agreement," flipped through a couple of pages, and threw them right back into her face. "Custody?" "She begged you to keep her two million dollars, only to starve herself, suffer through a medical emergency alone, and then beg you for two thousand dollars?

Melanie, do you think I'm blind, or do you think I'm an idiot?" He stepped closer to her, his voice low but terrifyingly cold. "And one more thing.

The diamond necklace I bought was a physical item. It couldn't be hidden in some bank transfer. Your 'agreement' only covers cash.

Where is the necklace?" Melanie's grip on the papers tightened. She couldn't utter a single word. "Go home first," Ethan suddenly turned to me.

I thought he was kicking me out, and my heart began to sink. But he stepped closer, reaching out as if to touch my shoulder.

Halfway there, his hand stopped. "Chloe," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll have someone turn your power and water back on right away.

I'll send a private doctor to check on you." He paused, a lump in his throat. "I will personally investigate every single dollar from the past three years. Until then...

I don't even have the right to say I'm sorry." Looking at his bloodshot eyes, I said nothing. I turned around and walked out.

Only when I stepped out of the building did I realize my back was completely drenched in sweat. I thought the truth was finally out.

But that night, a rumor spread like wildfire through our social circle: The billionaire's girlfriend tried to extort him for millions, but was caught redhanded when his loyal assistant produced a signed custody agreement.

The rumor ended with: Melanie has been reinstated and is now in full control of Mr. Vance's personal accounts. I sat in my newly lit apartment, my fingertips ice cold.

He had seen all the evidence. Yet, he chose to believe her?