After He Called Me Gold Digger I Became His Rival

I spent three years by Nathan's side.

Until the day of his birthday party, when I accidentally overheard his remarks about me from outside the private room:

Just a gold digger...

A temporary fling until his first love returned from abroad...

Little did he know, I am Nyomi Coleman, the heiress of a family far more prestigious than his.

Turning away, I dialed my brother's number:

"Cassius, I've agreed to the family arrangement."

---

It had been three years since I last called my brother.

"Cassius, I want to come home."

From the other end of the line, my brother, Cassius Bell, detected the tremor in my voice and urgently asked, "What's wrong? Is something going on?"

I fought back my tears, took a deep breath, and said, "I was wrong. True feelings can't always be reciprocated. You mentioned introducing me to some friends last time. I'm open to the idea of a date now."

Cassius had always disapproved of the Tuckers, thinking them unworthy. For Nathan, I stubbornly resisted contacting him for three years. Now, his outrage was evident.

"I've told you before, those Tuckers are selfish and shallow. You're the jewel of the Coleman family. Why should you endure this?"

I bit my lip hard but couldn't help but start sobbing.

Only then did Cassius soften his tone:

"Alright, alright, just come back as soon as you can. Do you want me to come and pick you up?"

"No need. Give me three days."

I needed time to sort things out here.

Including things with my boyfriend—Nathan.

Another call came through.

The caller ID read "Future Husband."

I said goodbye to Cassius and picked up the phone.

Amidst the noisy music, Nathan's angry voice came through: "Nyomi, why aren't you here yet? It's my birthday today. Are you really going to keep everyone waiting?"

I let out a bitter laugh, "Since when have I had the privilege to make you wait for me?"

Nathan never waited for me.

When we went to the cinema, I'd barely get the popcorn before he'd head into the screening alone.

If a class ran over by ten minutes, he’d impatiently leave.

Even tying my shoelaces, he didn't pause for me.

Yet, I'd always hurry to catch up with him.

Even though I'd be panting and out of breath.

But now, I'm tired of running, tired of chasing.

Perhaps it was the first time I used such a tone with him; Nathan was stunned for a couple of seconds. When he spoke again, his anger was even more intense:

"What do you mean by that? Are you trying to walk all over me?"

I sniffled, speaking softly, "I'm not coming. Enjoy your evening."

And with that, I hung up.

The exquisite gift box slipped from my hand as I stared blankly at the ajar door of the private room.

Nathan was seated at the center, staring disbelievingly at his phone before slamming it onto the table.

The commotion was enough for those with awareness to turn off the music.

His childhood sweetheart, Isla, who had just returned, was half-leaning against him, asking softly, "Nathan, what's wrong?"

He lit a cigarette, his sharp features intermittently illuminated by its glow.

"The canary I keep isn’t behaving, throwing a tantrum."

In Nathan’s eyes, I was just his pampered pet.

He’d tease me when he felt like it and toss me aside when bored.

It was my delusion, constantly searching for signs that he loved me, using them as my consolation.

He never loved me—I should have known.

That was my tenth minute standing at the doorway.

Ten minutes ago, I approached this place with a heart full of joy, carrying a gift.

I stood still, watching everyone jest about my boyfriend with another girl.

"Nathan, since your girlfriend hasn't arrived yet, I dare to ask who you really prefer? Your girlfriend or our lovely Isla?"

Isla blushed, lowering her head, too shy to look at Nathan.

"Don't tease. Isla and I are history."

Nathan tousled her hair, speaking with a tenderness I had never heard before:

"We grew up together; she's my first love. Naturally, no one else compares."

Someone continued questioning:

"So when do you plan to break up with your girlfriend?"

"Nyomi has been with me for three years. She's all alone out here. I'm not heartless. Once she graduates, I'll give her money, a place to stay, and make sure her future is set before we part ways."

Everyone praised young master Nathan for being noble enough to treat even a gold digger with honor, not noticing the tear-filled eyes I had outside the door.

Rooted to the spot, I called my brother and answered Nathan’s call.

Yet, I never found the courage to push open that door and confront him about his heartless indifference.

In the end, I fled, overwhelmed and broken.

At four in the morning, Nathan returned to our shared home. I lay awake, staring blankly through the floor-to-ceiling window at the pitch-black sky, my pillow wet with tears.

Nathan, reeking of alcohol, entered without turning on the lights. As he headed for the shower, I quickly wiped away my tears and changed the damp pillowcase, making sure everything appeared perfect.

He quietly returned to the bed and pulled me into his arms, his warm lips brushing my ear as he murmured, "Nyomi." His large hand touched my dry cheek, the coldness sending a shiver down my spine. In the moonlight, I could see the branded watch on his wrist—the same one I gave him for his birthday, which I'd angrily discarded at the party's entrance. He must have realized I was actually there.

"Not crying, that's good," I heard him whisper, as if confirming I hadn't overheard their conversation. He inhaled the scent of my hair, his breathing growing heavier. During our more tender moments, he'd always compliment the beauty of my hair. Only today, I met Isla and discovered that she, too, had long, thick brown hair.

The thought pierced my heart, prompting me to move away. Yet, he refused to let me go, pulling me back roughly into his embrace.

"Don't!" I exclaimed, breaking the silence. It was the first time I resisted Nathan's touch.

He switched on the lamp, sitting up against the headboard, staring at me with a confused, yet compelling gaze clouded by intoxication.

"You're awake? Why are you pushing me away?" he asked, perplexed.

My voice was hoarse: "Because I don't want to."

He reached for a cigarette from the nightstand, speaking with casual indifference, "Don't want to? Nyomi, you're getting bold."

I didn't want to be compliant anymore. Once, I was the cherished little princess of my family—confident and assertive. But because I loved him, I compromised everything.

Yet this exchange hadn't earned his affection, only the reputation of being pliant. I adjusted my pajama strap and forced out the words I'd been mulling over all night: "Nathan, let's break up."

He paused, the unlit cigarette in his hand, fingers frozen over the metallic lighter. "Did you hear something? Just harmless joking among friends. Aren't you the reasonable one?"

Seeing my silence, he continued, "Alright, forget what I said. I won't hold it against you for snapping at me today, okay?"

The room fell silent. His patience wore thin, and he stood up, tossing aside the covers. "Let's end this drama. I'll pretend I never heard those words."

He left the bedroom. I burrowed back under the covers, tears flowing once more, as if with a will of their own.