Chapter 1

My boyfriend won $20 million in the lottery and immediately broke up with me.

“Our social classes are different. You’re too low for me.”

Then he turned around and hooked up with that girl at work.

I laughed. He forgot that lottery ticket was from the previous draw.

I rolled down the window of my Maserati and said to them, “You two are way too low for me.”

1

"Let’s break up, Harper Westbrook! I just won $20 million in the lottery."

Chase Collins stood in front of me, his expression smug as he spoke those words.

“All because of that?” I asked, looking up at him.

"Of course! You’ve probably never even seen that much money, have you? My mom says there are different classes of people. Now that we’ve made it to the top, you and I aren’t on the same level anymore.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. $20 million, and they think they’re part of high society?

I didn’t even have time to tell him that my dad owns several buildings that rake in more than $20 million in rent every year, not to mention his companies.

But it’s fine. Honestly, I was glad to get rid of someone like him. Better to cut ties early.

No tears over love, only sleepless nights thinking about money!

Chase glanced at me. "By the way, even though you paid for the $50 lottery ticket, I’m the one who bought it. So don’t expect a penny from me."

He’d always had this habit of buying lottery tickets, dreaming of getting rich overnight.

But when it came time to pay, he’d always have an excuse—his phone was dead, or his payment wasn’t working.

Right, because the bank really cares about a few bucks, right?

"My mom doesn’t like you either,” Chase added. “She thinks you’re too tacky. Remember last time you met her? All you gave her were some cheap, no-name gifts. You embarrassed us."

I shot back, “God must’ve spilled wisdom all over the world, but your family held up an umbrella!”

I still remember the first time I met his mom. I gave her a pure wool scarf designed by an Italian luxury designer, worth five figures, and a bottle of French court perfume. Now it’s apparently a ‘cheap, no-name gift’ to them.

Like a catfish splashing water, suddenly thinking it’s seafood.

He continued, “I won’t argue with you because I’m an elite. But since we’re breaking up, let’s settle things. Why don’t you sell back the gifts I gave you?”

Typical Chase. Even winning the lottery doesn’t change his stinginess.

“No need! I still have all the stuff you gave me! I’ll return every bit of it.”

“Your $9.99 skincare set? I was too scared to use it, in case it ruined my skin!

“That $19.99 shirt and tie set? I didn’t want to wear it in case I broke out in hives!

“And that $10 box of bread? I was worried it’d make me sick, and even the medical bills wouldn’t cover it!”

The crowd around us burst into laughter. Chase’s face turned red as he snapped back, “Don’t just bring that up! What about all the money I gave you? Didn’t I send you cash on holidays?”

"Sure did." I nodded, pulling out my phone to check the records.

Valentine’s Day: $5.20, Fourth of July: $6.60, Christmas: $8.80...

“You’re so thoughtful. So generous!” I laughed.

Even my cousin in elementary school gives me more than that.

I used to think he was so sweet and attentive that I didn’t care about the little things. But now? Looking back, I must’ve had water on the brain. Enough to fill the entire Lake Michigan!

Chase puffed out his chest. "That was the past! Things are different now. I’ve won $20 million! I can buy whatever I want, and you no longer deserve to be with me!"

I nodded. "Alright then. In that case, why don’t you return the gifts I gave you?”

Chase laughed. “The stuff you gave me? It’s all knockoffs, isn’t it? How much could it be worth?”

Chase grew up poor. His dad passed away early, and he and his mom depended on each other.

To protect his fragile ego, I always cut the tags off the gifts I gave him, and they didn’t have any flashy logos.

"That belt you’re wearing? Gucci, limited edition. $10,000.

“Those shoes? C-brand, $15,000.

"That jacket? Also C-brand, $30,000."

I listed them off, one by one.

Chase’s face fell. “You think I’m an idiot? You couldn’t afford the real thing. You must’ve just bought some knockoffs to fool me!”

Right, because he couldn’t tell real from fake.

I pulled out my phone. "Here’s the purchase history and receipts. If you don’t believe me, go check with the store.”

“And the scarf and perfume I gave your mom? They weren’t any cheaper than the stuff I gave you. But I’ll let that go. Just give me $100,000 for everything else I’ve gifted you.”

In reality, I’d spent over $200,000 on him over the years. But if he gave me $200,000, his mom would probably make my life a nightmare.

Chase gritted his teeth. "Who knows if what you gave me was real or fake? Let’s call it $50,000. I’ll give you $10,000 now and the rest once I cash in the lottery.”

Fine by me. Even though it’s a drop in the bucket compared to my bank balance, who says no to more money?

2

After receiving the $10,000 in my account, I stood up and said to Chase, "Thanks, Chase. That’s the first time you’ve been so generous!”

He looked pained but still spat back, “Good. Don’t ever come looking for me again, loser!

“And don’t ever try to contact me. I’m afraid your bad luck will mess up my fortune.”

I nodded vigorously, making sure he saw me agree.

After Chase left, I told my driver to bring my Bentley around from the garage.

I’m done pretending.

That night, Chase posted on Instagram.

There were two photos: one of the lottery ticket, and another of him taking a selfie at the Maserati dealership. The caption read: "Just focus on two things: working hard and loving yourself. Luck will follow you if you smile enough. 😊"

I almost gagged on my dinner.

As I was about to delete him, something about that lottery ticket caught my eye.

The numbers weren’t fully shown, but the draw number was clear: 38