Right after college graduation, my fiancée—who happened to be a CEO—threw me a lavish engagement party and even gave me a supplementary credit card, telling me to use it however I pleased.

I made up my mind not to touch the card, but she got upset.

“Gabriel, you’re going to be my husband. My money is your money. Just spend as much as you want! If you won’t even spend my money, does that mean you don’t love me? Or are you thinking of backing out of our engagement?”

Phoebe's eyes turned red as she begged me to use her money, claiming she couldn’t eat or sleep unless I did.

So, just to ease her mind, I used it twice—for two modest takeout meals.

But when I tried to treat her to a fancier lunch, the server told me the card had been maxed out.

I texted her to confirm the limit—and turned out it was a card with a five hundred thousand dollars limit.

Thinking maybe she just forgot she’d used it herself, I didn’t bring it up. I figured I’d wait until the next billing cycle reset, then buy her something nice as a sweet gesture.

However, I never expected her to storm into my workplace with a stack of receipts and tear into me.

“Gabriel! How can you be so materialistic? I said you could use the card freely, not that you should blow five hundred thousand dollars in three days!”

“So that’s why you were hesitating earlier—because you thought the credit limit was too low! God, you're such a money-leeching parasite. Thank goodness we’re not married yet. Otherwise, you would’ve drained my family’s wealth in a weekend!”

She demanded we break off the engagement—and insisted I pay her back.

I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to her.

“Fine. Let’s break up. You can keep the change—use it to buy yourself a coffin.”

Thinking I was trying to dodge repayment, she even hired a top-tier lawyer to confront me.

But when the charges were tallied, her face turned green.

——

“Gabriel! What is this supposed to mean? Can’t admit what you did, so now you’re cursing me to die?”

Phoebe, fuming with rage, refused to take the one hundred dollar bill I held out. Her face was flushed with anger.

I just shrugged and pulled out another bill, and replied indifferently, “I only used your card twice—totaling 29.9 dollars. You’re demanding I pay you back five hundred thousand. Honestly, I should be calling the police for extortion.”

“What, it's not enough? Here, take another one. Just disappear from my sight.”

She was too furious to believe I had spent less than thirty dollars.

She threw the card statements in my face and shouted, “Cut the crap! Are you saying the bank statements are wrong? Just look at all the stuff you bought! I've never seen a man so fake, so shameless, such a damn freeloader!”

The long receipt floated to the floor. I didn’t even bother glancing at it.

But one of my overly curious coworkers picked it up and gasped after reading it, staring at me in disbelief.

“Gabriel, your spending habits are next-level—you’re like a walking money shredder!”

They all started passing the statement around, reading aloud the list of charges: luxury boutiques, high-end jewelry stores, five-star hotels...

In just three days, the entire five hundred thousand dollars limit had been spent across over a dozen purchases.

I snatched the statement back, gave it a quick look, and pointed to the only two charges that were mine—the two modest takeout meals.

“These two are the only ones I swiped the card for. The rest wasn't mine.”

Phoebe laughed in disbelief, like I’d just told the world’s best joke. Her eyes were full of scorn.

“Gabriel, I can’t believe this is who you really are. The card was in your hand. The signatures are yours. And now you’re telling me it wasn’t you? What, you think I spent that money?”

“I’m a CEO. I can drop five hundred thousand without blinking—I don’t need to scam a penny out of you!” she seethed.

That was exactly what I wanted to ask her.

So I asked it back.

She laughed angrily, then turned to our stunned coworkers and practically shouted, "I didn’t want to air our dirty laundry, but some people really don’t know how to be ashamed. Fine—let’s have everyone be the judge!”

“You all know that Gabriel and I were engaged through a family arrangement made by our grandparents. After he graduated, I honored that promise and threw him a grand engagement party. I even gave him a credit card to use freely, to show my love for him. At first, he refused to touch it, even made me beg him to spend my money. And the result...”

Phoebe shook the stack of receipts in her hand, her voice was as cold as ice.

“Everyone, take a good look—he maxed out five hundred thousand dollars in just three days, and it was all spent on luxury goods!”

“Even if I had mountains of gold, he’d burn through it all at this rate!”

As the future CEO and a stunning beauty, Phoebe had always been adored by her employees. Now that this scandal had surfaced, everyone naturally took her side.

The same colleagues who had been flattering me just minutes ago—only because I was her fiancé—were now staring at me with open contempt.

“Miss Wright, I bet he was pretending to be noble by not spending your money, just so you'd beg him to. That way, when things blew up, he’d have an excuse to turn around and play the victim.”

“Exactly! Classic manipulation!”

“I haven’t even spent five hundred thousand in the past three years. He burns through that in three days? And this is before marrying into wealth? If they’d really tied the knot, he’d have drained the entire family fortune!”

“Poor Miss Wright. What a gold-digging fiancé!”

“If you ask me, just call off the engagement already. These old-school arranged marriages are just outdated relics of feudal times.”

Phoebe’s assistant, Blake, gave me a disdainful glance before turning to her and shaking her arm as he tried to comfort her.

“Miss Wright, today’s young people really can’t handle any kind of test. Just consider five hundred thousand the price you paid to see his true colors. If you had married him, the company would probably be gone by now—and the rest of us will be out of jobs!”

Well, they certainly knew how to twist the knife. Every snide comment cut like a snakebite, slithering right into my ears.

I clenched the pen in my hand so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Phoebe looked pleased by the crowd’s support. Right in front of me, she wrapped an arm around Blake’s shoulder and said coldly, “Gabriel, if you were short on money, you could’ve just told me. Why sneak around and max out my card? Now, you have two choices...”

She paused, eyes gleaming with disdain. “Either pay me back immediately, or we call off the engagement, and you pack up and get the hell out of my company.”

The entire office fell silent. Everyone was waiting for my reaction.

I stared straight into her eyes and let out a cold laugh.

“Don’t worry, the engagement is over—but I’m not paying you back a single cent.”

Gasps echoed around the room.

Blake, gleeful at the chaos, added fuel to the fire.

“Unbelievable! I've never met a man as shameless as you. Thank god Miss Wright caught your true face early. If she had married you, you would’ve sucked her dry like a bloodsucker!”

I ignored him.

Instead, I pulled out the receipt from my modest food delivery and said calmly, “I’ll say it one last time—I only spent 29.9 dollars on two meals. If you think you’re going to extort me for more, keep dreaming.”

“As for this crappy job, I never cared about it.”

“Phoebe, you’re fired. My half-month’s salary? Consider it a gift—might help you buy a few budget meals after your company goes belly-up.”

I took a screenshot of my meal order and threw it into the company group chat before leaving it entirely. Then, I picked up my bag and walked out without a second glance.

Phoebe, furious at being ignored, grabbed my wrist.

“Gabriel! Don’t think you can just walk away from this! Pay up, or this won’t be the end of it!”

I calmly pulled my hand back and said flatly, “Miss Wright, I’ve already sent you the receipts. Check the facts before you come barking at me again.”

With that, I turned and walked away.

I thought that would be the end of it.

But I was wrong.

Phoebe went online and made a public post about the entire incident—dragging not just me, but my university into it too.

Before long, my name was trending for all the wrong reasons.

#Top Graduate Exposed As Gold Digging Scumbag.

#Gold-Digging Scumbag Who Blew Five Hundred Thousand in Three Days—Who Would Dare Marry Him?

#Tragic CEO Beauty Turns Out to Be an ATM for Her Childhood Fiancé!

The comment section exploded with hate.

As soon as my personal information was exposed, my phone was flooded with insults and threats.

[How could your parents raise someone like you? Disgraceful! Do us all a favor and die—don’t tarnish the school’s reputation!]

[So it’s true—education doesn’t equal character. No woman would marry a guy like you, even if you paid her!]

Some even dug up my student ID and advisor’s name, demanding the university to “clean up.”

The next day, I got a call from my academic advisor.

“Gabriel, the school leadership is taking this incident seriously. I’m afraid your ‘Outstanding Graduate’ title might be revoked.”

I gripped my phone tightly, throat dry. “But, Sir, I didn’t spend that money.”

He sighed heavily. “I believe you, but the public doesn’t. The school’s image has already taken a hit, and there’s pressure from above.”

At that moment, I understood.

Phoebe’s company was on the verge of partnering with our university’s research lab. Once the deal went through, it would open job pipelines for graduates. This was peak recruitment season—one scandal couldn’t be allowed to ruin the future of hundreds.

I accepted the decision calmly.

Losing the “Outstanding Graduate” title didn’t affect me much. At least the school wouldn’t go so far as to cancel my diploma or degree.

But Phoebe still wasn't satisfied.

She activated her network in the industry and spread the word to blacklist me.

All the resumes I casually sent out went unanswered, and I didn't even get a chance to interview.

Meanwhile, she began flaunting her relationship with Blake, showing up at the business galas in high profile manner.

On social media, Blake posted a photo of himself wearing a brand-new luxury watch with the caption, [Thanks for the gift, boss~]

The background was an elite private members’ club.

Phoebe liked his post and commented.[You deserve the best.]

That same night, she sent me a text.

[Gabriel, if you still want to be a CEO’s husband, first repay the five hundred thousand, then sign a prenuptial agreement. After marriage, you’ll be a stay-at-home husband, taking care of the kids and living in luxury.]

[Obey me, and I’ll guarantee you a life of comfort and status.]

[If you refuse, you’ll never work in this industry again.]

I stared at the screen—and laughed.

She probably didn’t realize. For someone like me, she was the one marrying up.

Even if I never worked a day in my life, I’d still live well, better than most. I didn’t need her crumbs.

So I replied with a single word. [Get lost.]

But I didn’t expect her to go completely unhinged.

That very night, Phoebe showed up at my apartment with four bodyguards.

The doorbell rang like a siren. I opened the door slowly—and there she was, standing at my doorstep, her expression was gloomy.

Behind her, four men in black exuded quiet menace.

“Gabriel,” she sneered, “did you think hiding at home would protect you?”

Without waiting for an answer, she shoved past me and barged inside like a storm.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching as she prowled through my living room like a thief looking for loot.

Her eyes swept over the elegant jade sculptures, antique porcelain, and calligraphy hanging on the walls. Her face darkened with every glance.

“Heh,” she scoffed. “So this is why you had the guts to blow through my card. You must have gotten real good at leeching off your sugar mamas.”

She jabbed a finger at the valuable items.

“How many people did you scam to fill this place up?”

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

She stalked over to the coffee table, picked up a blue-and-white porcelain teacup, and scoffed.

“So it’s all for show, huh? A bunch of cheap knockoffs to make yourself look rich?”