I Pretended To Be Poor And My Boyfriend Regretted It

Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Ethan Riley, needed $20,000 more for his treatment.

To get the money fast, I took a job on a luxury cruise ship, part of some rich guy’s game. I dove into the ocean without hesitation to find a bracelet his girlfriend had dropped.

Choking and gasping for air, I heard the guy sneer, “I’ve seen plenty of greedy poor people, but you’re the first I’ve seen this desperate for cash.”

Someone joked, “Your girlfriend doesn’t care about money, she’s willing to give everything to support you. Do you love her?”

The man just scoffed. “She’s a hick. Just a fling. You wouldn’t believe how rough her hands are. Disgusting to even touch, let alone love.”

My blood ran cold.

This man was Ethan, my supposedly crippled boyfriend.

And the “hick” he was talking about was me.

I’d been working on the cruise ship to pay for Ethan’s leg surgery, keeping it a secret from him.

After texting Ethan, I noticed a tall, elegant figure on deck, so familiar it made me pause.

A flicker of doubt and confusion crossed my mind, but I quickly shook it off.

Ethan was always in a wheelchair. We could barely afford his treatment, how could he be on this luxury cruise ship full of millionaires?

I laughed at my own foolishness, yet couldn’t help but imagine how handsome Ethan would look with that posture if he could stand.

I resolved to work harder, no matter what, to save enough money for his surgery.

All staff wore masks on the ship, identities hidden.

I was swamped with work.

Then, commotion on deck.

A man’s voice, slightly slurred and loud, carried on the wind.

“Twenty grand to whoever fetches that.”

Other servers gossiped that his girlfriend’s bracelet had fallen overboard. He was offering a huge reward.

The ocean currents were strong, a swirling abyss ready to swallow anyone whole. It could be fatal. I watched the others hesitate, gulping myself.

Twenty grand.

Enough for Ethan’s treatment.

Thinking of Ethan’s gentle face, I gritted my teeth and jumped into the water without a second thought.

Someone muttered, “Wow, someone actually went for it.”

The icy water stung, but I had only one thought: I had to get the money for Ethan.

So cold. My limbs numbed. Luckily, the sparkling bracelet was close.

I swam towards it, vision blurring, but my hand clutched it tight.

Just when I thought I’d drown, I was pulled onto the deck.

My blurry vision focused on a familiar, yet unfamiliar face.

In that instant, my blood froze and then exploded.

I stared, speechless.

A mocking voice reached my ears.

“I’ve seen plenty of greedy poor people, but you’re the first I’ve seen this desperate for cash.”

Laughter rippled around me. “Ethan hates gold diggers.”

Wads of cash rained down, sharp edges cutting my arm, drawing blood.

“Ethan, I heard your little girlfriend isn’t into money. Willing to work to support you. Rare these days. Do you love her?”

Someone teased.

Ethan snorted, dismissive.

“Girlfriend? A hick. Just a bit of fun. Nothing serious.”

My breath hitched. I went white.

This man was Ethan Riley, my wheelchair-bound boyfriend.

And the “hick” was me.

“Her hands are so rough. You wouldn’t believe it. Disgusting to even touch, let alone love.”

Chapter 2

Ethan’s voice dripped with exaggerated disgust, his eyes filled with contempt I’d never seen before.

Disgusting?

Each word felt like a nail hammered into my heart. I trembled, my fingers curling, nails digging into my palms.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

To pay for his surgery, I worked day and night.

Deliveries during the day, dishwashing at a restaurant at night, all to save $20,000.

My hands were cracked and dry from the constant work. The pain often kept me awake at night, but I never complained.

Three years of sacrifice, and all I got was “disgusting.”

I was a girl too. I knew how to take care of my hands, but his legs seemed more important.

In our tiny apartment, he’d hold my hands, his eyes full of remorse. “I’m sorry, Lily. It’s all my fault.”

He’d hug me, looking like a lost puppy afraid of being abandoned.

I’d comfort him, promising to get him better.

I thought we were soulmates, clinging to each other for survival.

Yet here he was, telling his friends I was disgusting.

He pretended he couldn’t touch me because he was disgusted, not loving.

And his leg? The wheelchair? All a lie to avoid work, to deceive me.

Ethan wrapped an arm around the woman beside him, took the bracelet I’d nearly died retrieving, and tossed it back into the sea. “Mia, this bracelet is tainted. Smells like the ocean. It doesn’t suit you anymore.”

He handed her a gold card.

“There’s a hundred grand on it. Buy yourself something nice.”

I almost died for that bracelet, and it was all a game to them, a disposable amusement.

In a quiet corner, I touched the red string bracelet on my wrist.

Ethan had given it to me.

“Lily, this is a lucky bracelet I made for you. Don’t dislike it. Promise me you’ll always wear it?” His eyes had sparkled as he tied it on. It was the only gift I’d ever received.

A cheap red string, but I treasured it, taking it off carefully before work to avoid getting it dirty.

Something I cherished was just a meaningless gesture to him.

What was he thinking when he gave it to me?

Stupid girl, so easy to trick. A piece of string and she’s head over heels. Or maybe he was mocking my pathetic naivety.

Thankfully, my mask hadn’t fallen off. They didn’t recognize me.

It saved me the last shred of dignity.

After work, I returned to our small apartment.

The place I once thought of as a haven, my source of strength.

Ethan sat in his wheelchair, back to me, as if the man on the cruise ship was a stranger.

“Lily, you’re back?” He expertly wheeled around, flashing a glimpse of his toned calf muscles.

Years of paralysis, and no muscle atrophy. I should have suspected something.

His eyes shone, like a devoted husband greeting his wife.

That’s how he’d lured me in.

I handed him a card containing the $20,000.

“I got the money for your surgery.” I looked into his eyes.

Surprise flickered across his face, quickly masked.

“My boss gave me a bonus. I found something he lost.”

I searched for a hint of guilt, just a flicker, but there was nothing.

He smiled, hugging me. “Thank you, Lily. When my leg is healed, I’ll treat you right.”

No real joy. $20,000 was nothing to Ethan Riley, the rich kid.

A sharp pain in my arm made me gasp.

Ethan’s brow furrowed with concern. He blew on the cut, murmuring, “Does it hurt? How did you do that? Lily, you’re so clumsy. What would you do without me?”

A stark contrast to the man who called me disgusting on the ship.

Maybe it was all a bad dream.

I gritted my teeth. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

He hugged me tighter. “Yes.”

“I missed you, Lily.”

Chapter 3

He nuzzled my neck.

Still lying.

I gently pushed him away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

Turning my back to him, I remembered how he’d shown up at my door, bleeding, begging for help.

His legs were covered in blood, like he’d been in a car accident.

He looked like a wounded stray dog.

He said he was an orphan, homeless. I was an orphan too, alone since leaving the orphanage.

I took him in. When the doctor said he needed surgery to walk again, I vowed to help him.

He hugged me, saying no one had ever been so kind.

Later, I learned it was all a lie.

After his grandfather died, there was a power struggle for the family business. He’d faked his injury to hide from his uncles, taking refuge in my tiny apartment, his doctor friend in on the scheme.

Now, he was ready to shed his disguise, reclaim his rightful place as the heir to the Riley fortune.

I was just a tool.

I didn’t sleep. Ethan was still asleep when I left for work.

Three years of relentless work had numbed me.

The lunch rush was chaotic. My head throbbed with a fever. I reached for my phone to complain to Ethan, then remembered he wasn’t the person I thought he was, the one who shared my struggles.

As I put my phone away, a news alert popped up.

Ethan Riley, back in power, throws lavish birthday party for fiancée.

Seeing his familiar face, a pang of pain shot through me.

He couldn’t wait, could he? The moment I left, he rushed to celebrate with his fiancée.

A beautifully decorated venue. Ethan, arm around the girl from the ship, cutting a cake together.

Her hands were delicate and smooth, clearly pampered.

I watched the video again and again.

Such a huge cake. Eight tiers, topped with a miniature couple kissing.

Ethan had apparently made it himself.

So he could be thoughtful.

On my birthday, I got a day-old cupcake with a single candle in our dim apartment. He’d covered my eyes and sung “Happy Birthday,” and I’d cried with gratitude.

To him, I was an afterthought.

Why spend a hundred dollars when ten would do?

In his eyes, I deserved cheap bracelets, ten-dollar t-shirts, and a day-old cupcake.

My eyes burned. I rubbed them, the calluses on my fingers making it worse.

Like a rat in the shadows, I peeked into someone else’s happiness.

Ethan, I’m breaking up with you.

Before I could finish typing, my manager yelled my name.

The lunch rush was relentless. I wished I had extra hands.

Running back and forth, my feverish body felt weak.

Dizzy with fever, I bumped into a customer while serving.

The burning pain in my arm brought me back to reality for a moment, but the shattering sound made my stomach drop.

I stared at the broken jade bracelet on the floor.