Chapter 1
I poured nearly three hundred thousand dollars into supporting my girlfriend through five long years of her PhD.
And when she dumped me, she didn't even bother to say thanks.
"Alex, we're done."
Emily's voice was so calm, like she was just reading an experiment report.
I sat at my computer in my tiny rental, phone in hand, watching the bank transfer page I'd just sent her still open on the monitor.
That was 5 thousand dollars for this month.
"Why?" I asked.
"I just don't think we're right for each other," Emily replied.
I let out a bitter laugh.
Not right for each other, huh?
We started dating when we were both juniors in college. After I graduated and began working, she kept going: grad school, then her PhD.
For five years, I sent her 5 thousand dollars every month for living expenses, plus extra for holidays, conference trips, and even laptops and tablets.
All together, it added up to nearly three hundred thousand dollars.
Not right for each other, huh?
"Fine."
I said just that one word, then hung up.
*****
Then I opened my mobile banking app and canceled the automatic transfer for next month.
Next, I logged into her credit card account and hit cancel on her secondary card.
The whole thing took less than thirty seconds.
Then my phone rang again.
It was Emily.
"Alex, did you just cancel my secondary card?" she asked.
"We're done. No reason for me to keep paying for you," I said.
"Can you not be so petty? I haven't paid my rent yet, and I've got an academic conference next week..." she started.
"Go ask your new boyfriend," I cut her off.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Emily, you think I don't know about Michael Reed?" I said.
She didn't say a word.
"You started seeing your professor's star student in your third year of grad school. How much of my money did you spend on your dates with him?" I pressed.
"Don't make things up!" she shot back.
"That three-thousand-dollar dress you bought last month, was that for me to see? Did we even see each other last month?" I pressed.
Her tone shifted.
"Alex, I know I messed up, but you can't just cut me off like this, " she pleaded.
"I can't?" I shot back.
I held the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen that showed "Cancellation Successful."
"You've got a new boyfriend now. Let him take care of you. I'm not responsible for you anymore," I said.
"He's still a student. He doesn't have any income, " she stammered.
"That's your problem," I said.
I hung up.
I powered off my phone.
I sat there in my chair, staring at the ceiling for a long time.
Five years.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
That was enough for a down payment on a small apartment in this city.
I wasn't even upset about the money, just disgusted.
When I turned my phone back on, a flood of messages poured in.
All from Emily.
[Alex, don't do this.]
[I know I messed up, but you can't just cut me off like this.]
[I have to pay my rent at the end of the month.]
[You promised you'd support me through my PhD.]
And the last one: [You're really being heartless.]
I didn't reply to any of them.
I scrolled down her chat window, the earliest messages were all those sweet things she'd said over the past five years: "Thanks, honey," "You're the best, babe," "I'll marry you when I graduate."
I read through them one after another.
It was all just a joke.
*****
The next day at work, I mentioned it to Brian Foster, who sat next to me.
"We broke up," I said.
Brian spun his chair around to look at me.
"With Emily?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"She broke up with you?" he asked.
"Yeah. She's seeing someone else," I said.
Brian swore under his breath.
"I've been telling you, man. You kept shelling out all that cash every month, she never gave a damn," he said.
I didn't say anything.
"So, what are you gonna do now?" Brian asked.
"Nothing. It's over, that's all," I said.
Brian glanced at me, like he wanted to say something but held back.
"Alex, about the company..." he started.
"Let's not talk about that right now," I said.
I opened my laptop and got back to coding.
In this apartment where I paid one thousand dollars a month in rent, sitting at an three-hundred-dollar desk, I was just another programmer.
My monthly salary was four thousand dollars, but I sent five thousand dollars to Emily every month.
I was seven thousand dollars deep in credit card debt.
So where did the extra money come from?
Emily never bothered to ask.
She couldn't care less.
She never wanted to know.
At lunch, Brian came over again.
"The investors for that project are asking when you can meet with them," he said.
"This Friday," I replied.
"Alright, I'll let them know," Brian said.
Brian lowered his voice. "How long are you gonna keep up this 'regular guy' act?"
I took a bite of my sandwich.
"Not anymore," I said.
Brian looked surprised.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Who am I putting on a show for? She's already gone," I said.
Why did I pretend to be broke in the first place?
Back in college, Emily once told me, "I like you, not because of your money. Even if you stay an ordinary guy your whole life, I'd still stay with you."
And I believed her.
So for five years, I kept everything about my company under wraps and just played the part of an ordinary programmer whenever I was with her.
Every month, I told her that five thousand dollars was just money I scraped together by pinching pennies.
She acted all moved at first, then got used to it, and after a while, she just expected it.
Then she started whining that I was too poor for her.
"Alex, can't you try harder for a raise or a promotion? Look at Michael Reed, he's only thirty-five and already an associate professor," she said.
Michael Reed.
The brilliant guy she was always bragging about.
Turned out, it all started back then.
*****
Thursday night, I logged into my company email for the first time in ages.
There were over four hundred unread messages.
Contracts, invoices, partnership proposals, shareholder meeting minutes.
One of them was from the CFO: [Mr. Carter, this quarter's net profit is seven million dollars, up forty-seven percent year-over-year. See the attachment for details.]
I glanced at it, then closed the email.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
For me now, that was just what I make in three days.
But everything I put into those five years, money can't even begin to measure that.
My phone lit up again.
It was an unknown number.
I answered, and a guy's voice came on the line.
"Hello, is this Alex Carter?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's me," I replied.
"Hello, Mr. Carter. This is Michael Reed," he said.
I leaned back in my chair.
I knew what he was up to.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"So, Emily told me you guys broke up, and now that you've cut off her allowance, she's kind of in a tight spot. She's got this big academic conference coming up next week..." Michael started.
"And?" I interrupted him.
"I just wanted to ask if you could maybe help her out for these last two months. She's about to defend her thesis and graduate, " he said, sounding a bit awkward.
"Professor Reed." I cut him off.
"She's your girlfriend now, and you expect me to pay for her?" I said.
There was a long silence on the other end.
"That's not what I meant, " Michael stammered.
"So what are you getting at? You're an associate professor, pulling in over three grand a month, and you still can't even take care of your own girlfriend?" I shot back.
"I've got a mortgage, " he muttered.
"That's your problem," I replied flatly.
My voice was flat.
"Professor Reed, let me tell you something. You took her from me, so now it's on you to take care of her. Don't let her come asking me for anything, and don't you come either. If you call me again about this, I won't be this nice," I said.
I hung up.