Chapter 1

On my wedding day, my circle of toxic frenemies came to my bridal suite and asked how much wedding allowance my husband had given me.

In reality, Marcus had only given me ten thousand dollars. But I lied through my teeth without blinking. "He gave me three hundred thousand! And he bought me a house in cash!"

Hearing this, a flash of pure jealousy shot through their eyes. For the next ten years, they used me as their benchmark. They vowed never to marry unless they found a man as rich as my husband.

Until one day, they finally found out the truth and exploded in rage.

I just shrugged innocently. "I was just talking smack. You guys didn't actually take it seriously, did you?"

I did it on purpose. This group of fake bitches always played the "supportive sisterhood" card to my face, but they constantly talked trash behind my back.

They even openly mocked me for being basic and always used me as their ugly foil.

So, when I got married, I told them my husband gave me three hundred thousand dollars cash.

It’s been ten years now, and they are still miserably searching for their "perfect rich match."

At our latest reunion, they clinked their glasses, flashing their cheap rings, and started whining to me.

"Chloe, does Marcus have any brothers? Or maybe some friends with the same net worth? Seriously, introduce us!"

"Yeah, Chloe! As long as he's loaded, I don't even care about his looks anymore!"

"My niece is already married, and I’m still single!"

Hearing this, I forced a troubled look on my face.

"Marcus's friends are all on their second marriages now. Why didn’t you guys say something earlier?"

Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Who knew you’d get so lucky?"

"Back then, you were the most basic one out of all of us. But somehow, you bagged a secret millionaire! And he’s been climbing the corporate ladder ever since!"

I laughed inside. "What can I say? I guess I’m just lucky!"

"Your in-laws really spoil you, too. When you had your baby, didn't your mother-in-law buy you that chunky solid gold Cartier Love bracelet?"

"I’m literally dying of jealousy! You have such a perfect life, Chloe! Unlike us, we’re practically dusty and single!"

I was laughing my ass off internally.

In reality, Marcus's mom had only given me a small, standard gold bracelet. I had fused it with my own inheritance jewelry to make that chunky Cartier-style bracelet myself.

Then, I took a picture of it, posted it on Instagram, and successfully triggered their deepest insecurities.

During this dinner, I casually dropped the news about my recent promotion.

Tiffany gritted her teeth, her voice dripping with venom. "Wow, Chloe, you really are on a lucky streak!"

"Is your company running out of people? How did "you" get promoted?"

Out of the whole group, Tiffany had the biggest problem with me. She prided herself on her hourglass figure and pretty face.

But after dating several guys, none of them ended in a ring. Meanwhile, I had gone on one blind date, got married, and was now thriving.

Looking at the raw jealousy in her eyes, I raised an eyebrow.

"Who knows? Maybe my boss saw that I have a stable, happy family and high emotional intelligence. Real talent recognizes real talent!"

Her smile twisted so hard her face looked deformed. She was scratching the fork against the tablecloth so hard it almost ripped.

When I got home after the dinner, I opened Instagram and saw Tiffany’s new post.

"Some girls have worse looks, worse personalities, and worse backgrounds than me, yet they somehow land a rich husband. Life is so unfair."

I could practically feel her grinding her teeth through the screen.

The comment section, however, was savage.

"Maybe guys aren't actually blind, sis?"

"You claim you’re so much prettier, post the receipts!"

"Jealousy is an ugly look on you."

Tiffany wouldn't back down. She actually dug up an old photo of us from college—no makeup, terrible lighting, and caked-on eyeliner.

"Look, I’m on the left, she’s on the right. She was so chubby back then, shorter than me, and had no body. How did a girl like this land a corporate executive? What am I missing?"

In that old photo, I did indeed look like a potato next to her.

But the comments kept roasting her.

"She might be chubby, but she looks cute and soft. Some guys love that."

"Who wouldn't want a girl with healthy skin and energy? Nobody wants to cuddle a skeleton, sis."

"Is it possible she lied about the $300,000? Maybe she’s just flexing?"

"Probably. In our city, a $300,000 cash gift is insane. And I know the company her husband works at. I've never heard of an executive named Marcus there. At least ten years ago, he definitely wasn't an executive."

Seeing that last comment, a cold sweat broke out on my neck. Wow, someone actually did their homework!

But I didn't care. I wasn't just bragging; I did it on purpose.

Who told them to treat me like garbage back then?

I snorted and locked my phone. Whatever. Even if I told them the truth, they wouldn't believe me now.

After all, I had played the role of the "naive, honest girl" for ten years. How could they ever suspect I’d been playing them this entire time?