To afford train tickets home for New Year's Eve, I searched for a part-time job and stumbled into a livestream that was practically throwing money at the chat.

A young woman in a silk robe rested her chin on her hand. Behind her, a villa glowed under expensive lighting that reflected off polished marble floors.

"Being kept in here is suffocating," she said in a voice that mixed boredom with sweetness. "My sponsor gives me more money than I can spend. Help me out. Take some off my hands."

Cash drops flashed across the screen one after another. I tapped as fast as I could, my heart hammering. A few large ones landed in my account. I was close. One more would cover both my ticket and my boyfriend's.

The streamer leaned closer to the camera.

"He keeps saying my tear mole looks like his girlfriend's," she said, her mouth twisting with disgust. "So unlucky. Of all things, I had to match with some broke girl."

My finger slipped.

I had a tear mole under my eye in the same spot.

The live chat flooded with questions.

[How is the sponsor's girlfriend broke?]

The streamer gave a short snort and reapplied her lipstick, as if correcting a minor flaw.

"He's just messing around. He tricked her into 200,000 dollars in debt. She's so stupid she works multiple jobs to help him pay it off."

A chill settled in my chest. My boyfriend also owed 200,000 dollars.

She continued, her tone light, "The funniest part? He slept with me for three days. When he left, I asked if he was giving her a taste of honey."

She smiled cruelly. "He said all he has to do is claim he's going to work a construction site hauling rebar. The idiot will feel guilty and deliver food all night. So he won't need to please her."

Another large cash drop flashed across the screen. The total reached the exact amount I needed.

My phone rang. Benjamin's name lit up the display.

When I answered, his voice sounded worn down, as if it had scraped against concrete.

"Via, we still don't have enough for the tickets," he said. "I hauled rebar and made a little over 40 dollars. I'm heading home now."

It was 1:00 a.m., and I almost dropped my phone.

The "sponsor" in that cash-spraying livestream… was it Benjamin?

When I did not answer, his voice sharpened. "Why aren't you saying anything? Are you feeling sick?"

My throat felt like sandpaper. "Which site? What kind of job keeps you out this late?"

"Just… near the old district." His words came faster, as if speed could carry him past my question. "I'm almost home. I'll transfer the money first."

The call ended. The livestream continued.

"My sponsor just sent another 150,000 dollars and told me to buy the newest set of lingerie."

She clicked her tongue and pouted at the camera. "Men like this have no concept of money. That set is, what, 30,000 dollars at most? Ugh, so annoying. He sent an extra 120,000 dollars. Fine. You can have it."

One oversized cash drop after another burst across the screen.

I tapped them in a steady, mechanical rhythm. My balance climbed from 100 dollars to 500 dollars, then 600 dollars, then 800 dollars.

After I met Benjamin, we did everything the responsible way. Our paychecks and my side-gig money went into my account. Whenever I saved 400 dollars, I had him send it straight to the debt. We kept only enough for rent and meals.

800 dollars in extra money was a number I never allowed myself to imagine.

My phone buzzed again.

Benjamin transferred 42 dollars. Memo: Work Money.

My hand jerked. I pressed the lock button. The black screen reflected my face back at me. The color had drained from my cheeks. My eyes looked wide and unsteady.

Under my right eye, the small light-brown mole stood out against my skin, like a speck of dried blood on a white wall. It was impossible to ignore.

Half an hour later, Benjamin came home. He still wore the gray work uniform from three days ago. Mud flecked his pant legs. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small paper bag.

"Via," he said gently, as if nothing in the world was wrong. "I kept 8 dollars. I bought you a hot baked potato. Eat it while it's hot."

I took it without speaking. Warmth seeped through the thin paper into my palm.

Since we got together, winter had meant one thing for him: finding some way to earn a little extra so he could buy the one thing I loved most, hot baked potatoes.

I hated spending money, and I hated seeing him worn out. We would split one potato and talk about where to find better part-time work, which market sold cheaper vegetables, how to shave a few more dollars off the week.

A hot baked potato was the one small comfort that made our cramped life feel steady.

Tonight, I bit into it. The soft flesh turned to paste in my mouth and stuck in my throat. No matter how hard I tried, I could not swallow.

Was it really him? It had to be a coincidence. It had to.

"I got back from my business trip yesterday and wanted to buy you one," he said, his tone careful and measured. "But a friend told me a construction site needed men to haul rebar. I needed the money, so I went."

He continued reasonably, "They paid us tonight. I ran all over looking. Luckily, the county fair stays open late. The stall you like was still open."

Everything lined up. Even the three days he had not come home made sense.

He smiled and leaned closer, his mouth parting slightly, waiting for me to feed him a bite the way I usually did.

I did not move. I held his gaze. "Is the site far? Next time, I'll go with you."

His smile vanished at once, as if someone had cut a string.

He turned toward the bathroom. "It's dirty and chaotic. Too many men. I wouldn't feel right taking you there."

He paused at the door. "I'm going to shower first. I'm covered in dust."

"A shower…" I muttered.

Before the streamer ended her broadcast, the last thing she said was…

"We agreed to video call while he showered. I'll show you my sponsor's abs in a minute!"

Less than five minutes later, she posted an update.

A man's defined abs filled the screen, water beading and sliding down his skin. His face was out of frame, but the tiles behind him were unmistakable.

It was our bathroom. I had bought the cheap plastic storage basket, the discount shampoo, and the bar soap.

It was Benjamin.

Right now, in the tiny place we rented, he was showering while video calling the woman he kept.

The sound of running water never stopped.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. *Don't panic. Stay calm. Think it through.*

There was nothing to think through.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw the streamer, Anya Carter, reply to a top comment.

[You're just a kept girl showing off. He has a girlfriend. No matter how you spin it, you're still the mistress.]

She answered instantly.

[He's raising that poor thing like a pet. She has the title, that's all. He loves me. Don't believe it? One message from me, and he'll run straight over, even if he's at his girlfriend's place.]

The bathroom door opened the next second.

Benjamin rushed out in his loungewear, a damp towel still draped around his neck. "Via, something urgent came up at the construction site. I need to step out…"

Every nerve in my body went taut. I lunged and grabbed his hand.

"Benjamin," I said, my voice shaking despite myself. "Can I come with you?"

His back stiffened. Then he gently pried my fingers loose.

"No need," he said softly. "It's cold outside."

I grabbed him again, refusing to let go. My eyes locked on the red mark near his collarbone. My voice trembled. "What happened there?"

He looked down, and his eyelid twitched.

"Probably scraped it hauling rebar," he said too quickly. "I'm going now. Get some sleep."

All the strength drained out of me at once.

On the livestream, someone asked if the diamond necklace Anya wore was a gift from her sponsor.

She smiled coyly. "Nope. A certain big bad wolf got too excited and snapped my old necklace. This is compensation."

She laughed, then added, "I didn't let him off easy. I left a kiss mark right here. I even used full force."

She pointed directly at her collarbone.

Benjamin left. I stood alone in the entryway, grinding my fingertips together as if I could rub the skin raw.

How had I not noticed until now?

His fingers were long and clean, the joints sharp and elegant. There was not a single callus. Hands like that did not haul steel bars for a living.

…

Anya posted again at 3:00 a.m.

[Told you the sponsor loves me, didn't I?]

In the photo, she nestled, petite and obedient, into a man's arms. His face was covered with a sticker, but he wore the loungewear I had bought.

I had watched him wear it threadbare.

I bit down hard on my lip and zoomed in. Anya wore an oversized white men's shirt. On the chest were the letters BS.

Last year, I had stitched those letters myself, one needle at a time, as Benjamin's birthday gift. He had treasured that shirt. He said he would not wear it until the day we registered our marriage.

Instead, he gave it to someone else.

…

I stayed awake until dawn. I went to work like a corpse with its strings cut.

After my shift, I went to my usual part-time job at the coffee shop.

When I got home at 11:00 p.m., Benjamin was already back.

Two boxed meals sat on the table. He had changed into clean loungewear.

"They gave out extra meals at the site," he said casually. "I begged the foreman for them. The rest are in the fridge."

He sounded proud. "We can save two days' food money this way, and we won't go hungry."

I walked to the table in silence and looked at the greasy construction-site boxed meals.

In my mind, I saw what Anya had shown off earlier that day: Benjamin flying a foreign chef to the villa, cooking her a "simple lunch" face to face.

Sourness surged up from my stomach. I turned and went straight to the bedroom.

"I'm tired," I said. "You eat."

Not long after I lay down, Benjamin wrapped an arm around me from behind. His voice dropped low. "Via, I'm sorry. Because of my debt, you've suffered so much."

I murmured a vague response.

He went on, "It's New Year's Eve the day after tomorrow. We don't have enough for two tickets. You go home first. I'll stay here and wait for you to come back."

I opened my eyes and tapped open the ticket app.

"Yesterday I wandered into one of those cash-spraying livestreams," I said. "I scraped together enough. We can go back to our hometown together."

The light from my phone cut across his face. His brows knit, and a flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes.

He had not expected me to pull it off.

That morning, I had sent him every cent I had to repay his debt. By his calculation, I should have had nothing left except the 42 dollars he handed me that night, the steel-bar money.

The irritation faded almost at once. He pulled me into his arms and pressed his cheek to my neck.

"That's great," he murmured. "We can go home together again. Via, thank you."

He still did not tell the truth.

I locked the screen, and darkness swallowed the bedroom.

His fingers found the tear mole beneath my eye and brushed it slowly, absently, like someone stroking an obedient animal.

…

The day before New Year's Eve, I took leave from work. I did not tell him.

Anya complained online that she was sick of being cooped up in the villa. To placate her, her sponsor planned to take her shopping.

When I reached the mall, a Maybach pulled up at the entrance.

The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.

Benjamin emerged. He no longer wore the faded gray work uniform. A tailored cashmere coat fell over a suit cut in clean, understated lines.

That morning, he had complained as usual about hauling steel bars.

I never would have imagined that my broke boyfriend was the only son of the Southall family, a well-known real estate tycoon in the capital, Goldstine City.

I was still dazed when he walked around the car and opened the other door himself.

Anya threw herself into his arms.

"You're not afraid your girlfriend will see us?" she asked, smiling up at him.

Benjamin lowered his head and bit her soft red lips in full view of everyone.

I stood behind a tree not far away and watched my boyfriend kiss another woman with hunger and familiarity.

He took his time before letting her go. Even then, he pecked her twice more.

"What's there to be afraid of?" he said. "She's working today. I watched her get on the bus myself."

"And if she sees us?" Anya teased.

"If she sees us…" Benjamin narrowed his eyes, careless. "Worst case, I give her back the little money she earned."

Anya laughed and clung to him as they walked into the mall.

I should have followed them. I should have grabbed his coat and demanded to know why he lied, why he betrayed me.

But in two days, something inside me had gone numb. My legs would not move.

I stood there and watched Anya post update after update.

[This Gallean restaurant is just okay. Not as good as the Gallean chef my sponsor hired for me.]

[Off to a beauty treatment! He wants me pretty for New Year's. He transferred another 200,000 dollars. I'll go live at ten tonight to throw cash for you guys!]

Someone commented and asked whether she feared the sponsor's girlfriend would catch her.

She replied at once, delighted. "I wish she would. My sponsor said if she finds out, he'll just return the money she earned over the years. What a loser. Five years, and she only made 130,000 dollars."

"130,000 dollars… So that's what I've earned in five years," I mumbled.

The number felt absurd. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, but no smile came.

…

Two hours later, Anya posted her daily spending summary.

"Your girl's daily income: 240,000 dollars."

I do not know how I made it back. When I came to myself, I sat on the sofa.

Benjamin had just walked in. He had changed back into the gray work uniform. He had deliberately mussed his hair.

"Via, you haven't eaten yet?" he asked.

He rolled up his sleeves. "I'll heat up the boxed meals from the fridge. It'll be ready in a minute."

His tone was the same as always, gentle and considerate.

At dinner, he pushed the meal with fried chicken strips toward me and ate the vegetarian one himself.

I held my utensils. Too many words clogged my chest.

I wanted to ask, "Why did you lie to me? Why did you claim to be from my hometown, a poor kid from a small county near Silverim City, buried under 200,000 dollars in debt?

"I followed you from freshman year to graduation. Then we moved to Goldstine City, together. I pinched pennies. I worked one full-time job and three part-time jobs. Every cent I earn goes to you.

"I wanted you to clear your debt sooner so we could marry without pressure.

"But the truth is that you're a wealthy heir from Goldstine City, someone who can burn through hundreds of thousands without blinking.

"You date me in the open while flaunting another woman behind my back."