The Man Who Valued Money Over Life

Name: The Man Who Valued Money Over Life
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Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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For seven years, I was with Blake, my ambitious Silicon Valley boyfriend. He told me he was building a dream, always "testing" my independence to prove I was with him for love, not money. I believed him, working tirelessly to pay my equal share. Then, my mom got critically ill, needing a $2000 scan so urgent it couldn't wait for insurance. I begged Blake for a loan, promising to pay him back, stressing it was a matter of life and death. He coldly refused, hid behind his "principles," and dismissed my desperation as a "test" of my resilience. Three agonizing days later, my mother died. Amidst my grief, a sickening truth began to unravel. Blake wasn't a struggling founder; he was a silent multi-millionaire, secretly lavishing gifts worth hundreds of thousands on another woman. I found texts where he mocked me to his friends, calling my plea a "handout" and my situation "desperate." How could the man I loved and supported for seven years be so monstrous? How could he let my mother die over $2000 he casually spent on jewelry? The betrayal sliced deeper than any knife. But the final twist was the cruelest: Blake secretly owned the coffee shop where I worked for minimum wage. Not only that, he had been systematically diverting my earned bonuses-including a $2000 payment right when I needed it-into his own private account. The money I had *earned* for my mom's life, he had stolen. That day, my grief turned into an ice-cold rage, and I knew exactly what I had to do.

Modern Revenge Female-centered Personal growth Badboy

Chapter 10

06-21 14:00

Introduction

Then, my mom got critically ill, needing a $2000 scan so urgent it couldn't wait for insurance. I begged Blake for a loan, promising to pay him back, stressing it was a matter of life and death. He coldly refused, hid behind his "principles," and dismissed my desperation as a "test" of my resilience.

Three agonizing days later, my mother died.

Amidst my grief, a sickening truth began to unravel. Blake wasn't a struggling founder; he was a silent multi-millionaire, secretly lavishing gifts worth hundreds of thousands on another woman. I found texts where he mocked me to his friends, calling my plea a "handout" and my situation "desperate."

How could the man I loved and supported for seven years be so monstrous? How could he let my mother die over $2000 he casually spent on jewelry? The betrayal sliced deeper than any knife.

But the final twist was the cruelest: Blake secretly owned the coffee shop where I worked for minimum wage. Not only that, he had been systematically diverting my earned bonuses-including a $2000 payment right when I needed it-into his own private account. The money I had *earned* for my mom's life, he had stolen. That day, my grief turned into an ice-cold rage, and I knew exactly what I had to do.