I'm Leaving My Billionaire Boyfriend

I had been dating Ethan Sinclair for three years, and the most expensive gift I ever received from him was a $99 bouquet of white roses.

Yet, his friends still looked down on me, calling me a gold digger. Just because Ethan was a billionaire, and I came from a workingclass background.

At my birthday party, he handed me the usual cheap white roses.

I went to the restroom, and on my way back, I heard his childhood friend, Amanda Vance, scoffing from inside the VIP lounge: "She's just playing the innocent card.

Pretending she doesn't care about his money, but she's really just waiting to marry him and take half his assets." One of Ethan's best friends, Tyler, chimed in: "Bro, your girlfriend is seriously calculating." Ethan sat on the sofa, offering no defense for me.

Angry, I pushed the door open, wanting to stand up for myself. But before I could speak, Ethan looked up and asked me first: "You've been putting on this act for so long.

Are you really just trying to secure a massive payout?" I squeezed the watch box in my hand—the one I had bought as a gift for him—turned around, and walked away.

After leaving the lounge, I went straight back to the luxury mall. The sales associate recognized me immediately.

Only half an hour ago, I had walked out of here with a beaming smile, holding the gift box.

Now, with the ribbon still intact, I was asking her for a refund. "Ma'am, since the back of the watch is customengraved, we can only offer a buyback at a discounted price." "How much can I get back?" "Seven thousand dollars." I had saved up for six months to buy this $10,000 watch.

Now, in a blink of an eye, I was losing three grand. I nodded. "Process it." Just as the associate took the box, Amanda's laughter echoed from behind me. "See?

I told you she'd return it." Ethan and his group of friends from the lounge had followed me here. They stood outside the boutique, watching me like I was some kind of circus act.

Tyler pulled out his phone, snapping a photo of my refund receipt. "Buying a tengrand watch just to turn around and probably ask Ethan for a sports car." "This return on investment is so crazy that Wall Street should take notes from her." "Hey, she climbed her way out of some rundown suburb to land Ethan.

Of course she's got tricks up her sleeve." Their words pierced my ears, making my fingertips go numb.

Amanda walked up to me, glancing at the buyback slip. "You guys are too naive," she said to the group. "Lowtier gold diggers ask for cash straight up." "Hightier social climbers like her spend a little money first, play the victim, and then return the gift.

Once the guy feels guilty, the house and the sports car practically buy themselves." The friends laughed even louder. "So that's how you play the long game." "No wonder she didn't accept any expensive gifts from Ethan for three years.

She was waiting for the wedding ring." I snatched my debit card back and turned to leave.

Ethan grabbed my wrist. "Haven't you had enough?" He pulled a black card from his wallet and shoved it into my hand. "I went too far with my words earlier.

Take this and buy whatever you want. Stop throwing a tantrum." I stared at the black card, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest.

We had been together for three years, and I had never spent a single dime of his money.

Yet, even today, he still believed all my pain and humiliation could be solved with a swipe of his card.

I placed the card back on the counter. "Ethan, let's break up." His face paled. But Amanda clapped her hands. "What did I tell you?" "Returning the gift was just the appetizer.

The breakup is the real play." She turned to Ethan, looking absolutely certain. "She's endured three years to finally get close to the Sinclair family.

There's no way she's actually leaving." "She's just forcing you to propose to her right here." The others immediately started chanting. "Down on one knee, Ethan!" "Better do it now, or next time she won't just return a watch, she'll be holding a knife to her wrist." Ethan's tightly knitted brows gradually relaxed.

He looked down at me, a hint of realization in his eyes. "If you want to get married, you can just tell me." "Don't threaten me with a breakup.

It's childish." I pulled my hand out of his grip. "I'm not threatening you." "I don't want you anymore." Ethan stared at me for a few seconds, the last drop of his patience completely evaporating. "Fine.

I'd love to see how many days you can last playing tough." I didn't answer. I walked out of the mall alone. As soon as I got into an Uber, my boss, Mr.

Davis, called me. "Chloe, the Middle East project is temporarily shortstaffed.

It's a threeyear deployment, and you'd have to leave the day after tomorrow." "The conditions are tough.

Are you willing to go?" In the past, I had turned down two overseas opportunities just to stay with Ethan.

This time, I didn't hesitate. "Yes, I am." I booked a flight for 9:00 AM the day after tomorrow. I had exactly fortyeight hours left before leaving this city, and Ethan, forever.

The next morning, I started packing. Three years of my life fit into just two suitcases. Right after I zipped them shut, my apartment door was pushed open.

Ethan walked in, with Amanda right beside him. The same people who had mocked me last night were there too. They didn't show an ounce of shame.

Instead, they gathered around my suitcases, whispering and pointing. "Wow, she actually packed." "Well, you have to play the part, right?

Even if the suitcases are empty, she's got to wheel them out." "I bet she'll unpack her clothes by tonight." "Tonight is too long.

I bet three hours." Amanda held up a finger. "One hour." "The second Ethan offers to put this apartment in her name, she'll unpack immediately." Someone gave her a thumbsup. "As expected of Amanda.

You really know how these gold diggers think." "Well, she's dealt with her fair share of competitors, she knows the drill." The group burst into laughter.

I knelt down, sliding my passport and ID into the inner pocket of my suitcase.

Ethan stood by the door, his expression dark. "Where are you going?" "None of your business." Amanda chimed in instantly. "Hear that?

She's keeping it a secret on purpose to make you anxious." "The moment you beg her to stay, she wins." Ethan had taken a step forward, but upon hearing Amanda's words, he froze.

I pulled a small box out of the drawer. My access card, the apartment keys, and the few small gifts Ethan had given me over the years were all inside.

The most expensive item was a $900 necklace. It was actually a leftover prize from some corporate raffle that Ethan had casually tossed to me. I slid the box over to him. "Here.

Your things." Seeing the keys, Ethan's face darkened completely.

But Amanda snatched the keys first, dangling them in the air. "Ethan, don't you get it?" "She's lived here for three years, and your name is still the only one on the deed." "She's complaining that you aren't playing ball." His friends looked like they had just cracked a code. "Living here for three years and still not getting a house?

No wonder she's losing her patience." "Ethan, you really failed at your charity work here." "A house in the rundown suburbs she came from probably costs less than one of your bathrooms.

Of course she's desperate." My fingernails dug deep into my palms. Ethan knew very well how much I hated people making fun of my background.

Yet, he stood there, not saying a single word to stop them. He only looked at me. "I'll have my assistant start the deed transfer this afternoon." "The apartment is yours.

Happy now? Stop acting.

You can be real with me, you know I hate fake women the most." It felt like a heavy fist had punched me right in the chest. "I don't want it." The friends exchanged glances and smirked. "Wow, she's got a huge appetite." "Turning down a multimillion dollar apartment?

Guess she's aiming for Sinclair Group shares." Amanda crossed her arms, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "She's not turning it down.

She just thinks it's not enough." "Ethan, if you give her the apartment today, she'll demand your company tomorrow." I looked up at Ethan. "Do you also think I'm just holding out for more?" He remained silent.

At that moment, any desire I had left to explain myself vanished.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the wedding planner right in front of them. "Cancel the engagement party." Ethan snapped his head up. "What did you say?" "The wedding is off." "Deduct the cancellation fee from my account.

No need to contact Ethan Sinclair." After hanging up, I cancelled the wedding dress rental and the makeup artist too.

Ethan slammed his hand onto the box of keys on the table. "Once you cancel, it won't be easy to put it back together." I nodded. "Then let's never put it back together." He stared at me intensely.

Amanda pulled his arm. "Don't pay attention to her." "The harder she throws a fit, the more terrified she is that you'll actually leave her." Ethan finally turned and walked away.

But before he crossed the threshold, he threw a cold remark over his shoulder. "I'll wait for you to come crawling back. But I won't give you much time.

Mind yourself." As the door clicked shut, I opened my phone. My company had sent over the overseas contract. I signed my name and tapped submit.

From this moment on, there was no turning back for Ethan and me. And he would never, in this lifetime, see me crawl back.

That night, Amanda added me to a Snapchat group. The group chat was named: "How long can the gold digger last?" There were over twenty people in it, all of them Ethan's friends.

The moment I was added, messages flooded the screen. [I bet she apologizes before midnight.] [Midnight is too late.

With her poor background, she wouldn't dare lose her permanent meal ticket.] [I bet she kneels in front of Ethan's office building begging for him back.] [Loser buys drinks for a month!] Amanda sent a voice note. "You guys are overestimating her." "She's definitely sitting at home right now, waiting for Ethan to go back." "Packing bags, cancelling the wedding, returning gifts... it's all textbook pushandpull tactics." "Someone who actually wants to leave wouldn't make such a scene.

She wants everyone to know because she's waiting for Ethan to go soothe her ego." Someone asked why she was so sure.

Amanda laughed. "I've told you guys a thousand times, I know how these girls operate." "A poor girl landing a guy like Ethan Sinclair is like winning the lottery." "Does a lottery winner ever tear up their ticket and refuse to cash it in?

Only an idiot would do that." The group erupted with laughing emojis. Ethan was in the group too. He didn't say a word, but he didn't stop them either.

I left the group chat immediately. Less than ten seconds later, Amanda added me back. [Don't leave so fast.] [Weren't you breaking up?

Let's see how many days you can keep up this act.] [Why don't you place a bet too? What time are you running back to Ethan?] I left the chat again.

Half an hour later, an unknown number called me. "Hello, is this Ethan Sinclair's girlfriend?" "Mr. Sinclair has been in a terrible car accident.

He's in the ER right now." Three years ago, they had played the exact same trick. I was in the middle of a crucial professional certification exam back then.

The moment I heard Ethan was in a car accident, I left my exam paper blank and rushed to the hospital like a madwoman.

When I pushed open the VIP ward door, all I saw was a table full of expensive food and champagne.

They laughed, saying that since I was so worried about Ethan, I must really be terrified of losing my golden ticket.

The second time, my mother was hospitalized with a severe illness. They lied to me again, saying Ethan was in danger.

I left my feverish mother in the care of a neighbor and took a fivehour train ride back to the city.

It turned out to be another "test." They watched me cry while complimenting my "excellent acting skills." This time, I spoke calmly into the receiver. "If a signature is needed, contact his family." "We've broken up." The line went quiet for a moment, and then a burst of laughter erupted.

Amanda took over the phone. "Oh, you've gotten smarter. You knew we were testing you." "But don't think playing coldhearted will make Ethan panic." I hung up immediately.

The next morning, I dragged my suitcases to the airport. Before going through security, a colleague from work called me. "Chloe, Mr.

Sinclair's assistant just called me to ask if you really resigned." I stopped in my tracks. "What did you tell him?" "Before I could say anything, some woman next to Ethan said you were just using this to force a marriage." "Then Mr.

Sinclair hung up." I didn't even need to ask to know who that woman was. At 8:40 AM, the loudspeaker announced my flight was boarding.

I looked back at the airport entrance one last time. Ethan hadn't come. My phone buzzed. Amanda had sent a video.

Ethan was sitting in a highend lounge, a glass of whiskey in front of him. The group was still waiting for me to bow my head.

Amanda's voice came from behind the camera. "Don't worry, she won't leave." "She's probably hiding near the airport right now, waiting for you to run over and beg." "If you go, she'll hold this breakup over your head for the rest of your life." Ethan looked up. "What if she actually leaves?" Amanda didn't hesitate for a second. "If she actually leaves, I will apologize to her in front of everyone." The video ended there.

I turned off my phone and walked toward the boarding gate. I didn't need her apology. Let it choke her instead.

Before boarding, I arranged for a courier service to deliver my packed boxes straight to the lounge where Ethan and his friends were.

Half an hour later, someone in the Snapchat group posted a video of them opening the boxes.

The scarves, stuffed animals, and keychains Ethan had given me, along with every single card he had ever written to me, were piled inside. At the very bottom lay a detailed ledger.

For three years, I had kept a meticulous record of every expense Ethan had paid for me—dinners, trips, and our shared rent.

After deducting my half of the expenses, there was a remaining balance of $17,400. I transferred every single cent of that amount directly into his bank account.

In the video, someone picked up the ledger and laughed so hard they slapped their knees. "What is this? Is she settling her escort fees?" "Only seventeen grand for three years?

She must feel so ripped off." "No wonder she cancelled the wedding and ran away.

She's just trying to force Ethan to pay her more." Another guy picked up the old scarf. "Returning a cheap piece of junk like this just to look classy?" "Poor people are all the same.

They've never seen anything nice, so they treat trash like some sacred proof of love." Amanda snatched the ledger away, scanning it. "She's making the calculations so clear on purpose to remind Ethan that she wasted three years of her youth on him." "Just watch.

Next, she'll start asking for palimony." Ethan sat on the sofa, his face growing darker by the second.

Staring at the pile of items, he suddenly asked: "What if... she really just wanted to break up?" Amanda laughed out loud. "Ethan, did you seriously fall for her act?" "How much does she even make a month?" "Without you, she'll have to rent a crappy apartment, take the subway, and date broke, average guys." "She's gotten used to the life you provided.

Do you really think she can go back?" The guy next to her joined in on the mockery. "Ethan, you're just too sentimental about your charity case." "A woman like her won't find anyone better out there.

She'll crawl back on her own." "Who knows, she might be standing right outside the door right now, waiting for you to say you forgive her." The video abruptly cut off.

I left all the mutual group chats and deactivated the phone number I had used for seven years. The airport announcement blared again.

As I lined up at the gate, Ethan's assistant sent a message to my temporary work number: [Miss Sterling, Mr. Sinclair wants me to ask when you are coming back.] I didn't reply.

The line moved forward slowly. When it was my turn to scan my boarding pass, Mr.

Davis called me. "Chloe, the company has notified our partners." "Ethan Sinclair will probably find out very soon that you've signed a threeyear contract." "Have you really thought this through?" I looked at the jet bridge leading to the cabin. "I have." "This time, I'm not looking back." After hanging up, I opened my chat history with Ethan.

Over the past three years, most of the messages had been sent by me.

I had asked him what time he'd be home, reminded him to take his medicine, and told him where his clean laundry was.

To my dozens of texts, his replies were usually just two words: Got it. I typed out my very last words to him: [Ethan, your friends were right.

I am a great actress.] [I was exhausted a long time ago, yet I pretended to love you for three years.] [Now, the play is over.] [From now on, even if you guys play your sick pranks with car accidents, drunken emergencies, or disappearances, no one will ever rush back to you again.] Ethan's call came through almost instantly.

I didn't pick up. He kept calling, his name flashing relentlessly on my screen. The flight attendant reminded me to turn on airplane mode. The screen went completely silent.

At the exact same time, Ethan's assistant delivered my overseas contract to the lounge. Black ink on white paper—a threeyear term.

Amanda reached out to grab it, but Ethan slammed his hand down on the contract first. He stared at my signature, the color draining from his face. This time, I wasn't acting.

I was truly gone.