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Sorry, Ex: I Am The Real Billionaire Heiress!

Chapter 8 

Word Count: 1037    |    Released on: Today at 16:58

n Brid

e side corridor inside the salon suite to the private VIP restroom to

anities. As soon as I stepped inside wearing my scuffed canvas sneakers,

ouse VIP guests. Regular shoppers need to take the el

as she stepped sideways to blo

single syllable arguing, pulled a dry paper towel from

corridor outside the restroom, a sharp, furious

were you stuttering and making excuses in front of th

gainst the carpet and slammed her Her

m his forehead, his posture hunched and desperate

. It's not that I don't want to buy it for you, it's just that my dad sud

bragged so big downstairs, and now you're

yanking her arm

the corridor with my hands in my pockets, watching Dalvin gro

et lounge. Both of them whipped their

g his humiliation, blood rushed straight to

followed us up here to eavesdr

erest in listeni

hly past his c

h society five minutes ago can't even scrape together three hundred g

by the loss of face, Delina shoved past Dalvin and marched fu

e clearly snuck up here ju

ragrance boutique one after another, the te

lletproof glass case in the center of the floor, a

ke this

standing behind the counter, speaking as cal

out T-shirt and battered canvas bag before a contemptuous sne

n the tables, Delina let

rs! Even if you sold every organ in your body on t

e lounge, Dalvin glared at my bulging canvas to

oman stole merchandise f

top of his lungs, pointing hi

wealthy shoppers and staff members froze and t

st security during a shift change! I just caught her lurking around the back hallway by th

louder and bolder

umped in, her voice

have sticky fingers! Call the floor manager

ed her palm onto the silent alarm button under

uspected high-value theft in the Julian Beaumo

case, watching Dalvin's smug,

a heavy price. You better be sur

they dump out that bag, you'll be pic

is arms and grin

atter of high heels mixed with the heavy boots of f

sharp, dark bespoke suit, the solid gold nameplate on her lapel gl

ho is causing a disturban

ried cold, unquest

he had seen his savior, p

upstairs and stole luxury perfume from the co

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Sorry, Ex: I Am The Real Billionaire Heiress!
Sorry, Ex: I Am The Real Billionaire Heiress!
“I worked three part-time jobs and dug through campus trash cans every day just to support my boyfriend, Dalvin. But today, I caught him in the dim locker room, his arms wrapped tightly around Delina, the famously arrogant rich girl who always treated me like dirt. When I confronted him, he didn't show a single ounce of guilt. Instead, he shoved me hard onto the cold tile floor, mocking me for reeking of poverty. "I'm sick of having a girlfriend who digs through trash!" He sneered at me, flat-out refusing to return the money I had scrubbed floors to earn for his tuition. Delina stomped her designer stiletto right through my work notebook, twisting her heel until the pages tore. "You belong rotting in the mud." She laughed shrilly, tossing a crumpled ten-dollar bill at my bleeding knees like charity for a stray dog. The crowd of students gathered at the door pointed and snapped photos, watching me struggle to stand with an injured leg. I stared at the boy I had sacrificed my pride and body for over the past two years, my heart turning to absolute ice. Was my life really meant to be trampled on by these people forever? Just as I limped away into the shadows, my cracked, second-hand phone suddenly buzzed. "Jillian, my daughter," a deep, authoritative voice echoed through the receiver. "Your nineteen-year poverty trial is finally over. I just wired one hundred million dollars into your account."”