Chapter 1
The student I sponsored with 300 thousand dollars turned out she was my deskmate.
She strutted around with my Hermès bag, snarking that the one I was using was just a knockoff.
Indulging in her Häagen-Dazs, she mocked me for only affording Snowman Sip, a kind of modest drink.
Without hesitation, I froze her card and kicked her out of the unused villa under my name.
In class, she straight-up declared she likes me right in front of everyone. I couldn't believe it.
I just felt disgusted.
Since I had way more pocket money than I could ever spend, I just randomly decided to sponsor our nanny's daughter.
I didn't even bother to ask her name—I simply handed her a supplementary credit card linked to my account.
The limit on that card was a whopping 300 thousand dollars.
That should be plenty to get any cash-strapped student through the years of college. After all, she was a grown-up, and she could do a part-time job.
But I seriously never saw this coming.
Three years into the sponsorship, I suddenly got a message: the supplementary card had been maxed out.
I was just about to ask her what was up when her voice message popped up.
In all the three years I'd supported her, it was the very first time she'd ever messaged me with her actual voice.
She said, "Sir, I'm in my senior year now, trying to push myself harder. My teacher thought it'd help if I signed up for extra tutoring, but the fees were kind of crazy—so I maxed out the card. Sorry about that..."
Yeah, she'd always called me 'Sir.'
It was only because I'd never revealed my true identity to her.
Her tone was genuinely earnest.
Her voice was kind of syrupy-sweet.
She sounded all choked up, ready to cry—pitiful as hell.
But that voice sounded like I'd heard it a thousand times before.
It was basically Kensley Mullins all over.
But wasn't Kensley supposed to be that show-off trust fund diva?
How on earth did she become the "struggling student" I had been throwing money at all this time?
I hesitated for a moment, then pinged my dad's assistant to dig up info on the student I'd been sponsoring.
His reply came almost instantly—a student background sheet landed in my inbox in under thirty seconds. Dude's efficiency was scary.
Smack in the middle was Kensley's name and her photo stuck right on top.
That was when the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.
So basically, Kensley was living the luxury life, flaunting my cash and pretending to be some high-class queen. What a move!
Kensley and I had been deskmates for three whole years.
She was forever flexing—always going on about how stacked with cash her family was, how fancy her background, and how her dad showered her with everything.
And there I was, completely oblivious, the sucker who'd been playing her 'dad' for three years without having a clue.
I could feel my fists clenching tighter and tighter.
Kensley's voice messages just kept coming—my phone buzzing nonstop with her notifications.
Kensley: [Sir, I'm really sorry. I've got nothing left for food. Could you maybe bump up the card limit for me?]
Kensley: [You agreed to sponsor me. Don't give up halfway. At least be someone who actually keeps his word.]
Kensley: [If I end up bombing my college entrance exams because you stopped supporting me—that'll be on you. Can you seriously shoulder that kind of guilt?]
As I stared at Kensley's barrage of messages, my fingers froze up.
Man, I had no clue sponsoring a student nowadays was this freaking demanding.
300 thousand dollars wasn't even enough to support a student for three years?
Honestly, she was bossing me around like I was her actual dad or something.
Like I'd instantly turn into the world's worst scumbag just for saying no.
"Vanessa, seriously, I must've told you this like a million times—quit flaunting that fake bag in front of me, alright?"
A shrill voice cut through the air.
Kensley had somehow slipped back to her seat and gave me the stink eye, all full of resentment.
I frowned slightly, looking up to see her pointing at my backpack, totally making a big deal out of it.
Kensley said, "If you're broke, just admit it. Stop flexing. Hermès is obviously not for poor kids like you. Try having some self-awareness for once, will you?"
"Did you even go talk to the teacher about swapping seats like I told you last time? I can't stand how depressing you are! You're seriously such a buzzkill—it's gross!" she said.
"Vanessa, can you keep your Snowman Sip further away from me? That snowman waving a broom on the cup is making my head spin. Honestly, just looking at it makes me feel sick!"
Kensley had always given me a hard time.
Back then, I just assumed she was spoiled by her family—just another rich girl with a princess attitude.
Since we were classmates, I never bothered to argue with her.
But now? There was no way I could just keep putting up with it.
Every single cent Kensley spent was all my money.
And I gave it to her as her sponsor, thinking I was helping out a student in need.
I gave her that money so she could focus on her studies and maybe even give back to society someday.
It was not for her to keep up that glam-queen act, flashing jewelry and designer bags like she was some socialite.
She thought I was a total buzzkill? Fine, whatever. I could deal with that.
But the fact that she actually dared to diss my drink?
That was unforgivable.