Chapter 4

On the day of my graduation presentation, I had just stepped down from the podium, pulled out my phone, and saw over a dozen missed calls.

All from my mom.

My heart sank, and I quickly called her back.

But it wasn't my mom who answered; it was our neighbor, Mr. Davis.

"Hazel, come home quickly! Your mom fainted right downstairs after buying groceries. A few neighbors and I took her to the hospital!"

My head started spinning.

"The doctor said it's a heart condition and she needs immediate surgery! They're asking family to pay up quickly! One hundred thousand dollars!"

I didn't wait for my presentation results. I grabbed my bag and ran out.

On the way, I messaged Ethan:

"What's the card PIN? Urgent."

After a while, he replied:

"I'll tell you later. You have enough from your part-time jobs; don't spend carelessly."

My hands were shaking too much to type, so I called him directly.

"Ethan, my mom is sick! Heart attack! She needs one hundred thousand dollars for surgery! Please tell me the PIN now!"

The other end of the phone was silent for two seconds, then he said unhurriedly:

"Hazel, you're cursing your own mom just to trick me into giving you money? That's going too far."

He hung up immediately, not listening to another word I had to say.

My hands trembling, I scrolled through all my accounts on my phone.

SnapChat balance, PayPal, bank cards---all combined, I only had just over seven hundred dollars.

Not even a fraction of what was needed.

I called Ethan's number again. It was off.

I sent a message, and an auto-reply popped up:

"In a closed-door meeting, please do not disturb."

For four years, I had worked part-time jobs continuously, saved diligently, and most of the money I earned went to Ethan. I hadn't saved a single cent for myself.

He claimed every month he put thirty thousand aside for me, over a million dollars in three years, yet I couldn't even afford my mom's one-hundred-thousand-dollar surgery fee.

My tears streamed down uncontrollably.

With no other choice, I rushed into the nearest bank, went straight to the counter, and handed the bank card to the teller.

"Hi, I need to withdraw money, but I forgot the PIN. Can I use my ID?"

The teller took the card and checked it:

"Ma'am, this card is in a canceled state."

My heart lurched violently.

"How is that possible? My boyfriend deposits thirty thousand every month; there should be over a million dollars in it now!"

The teller looked at me with some pity:

"This card was canceled three years ago. From its opening to its cancellation, there was never a single deposit recorded."

I stood there, completely frozen, feeling like my world crashed down.

Three years, and not a single deposit.

What about his monthly Ins posts then?

What about the transfer screenshots of that bank card?

What about that line, "That $30,000 I put aside for her every month is her security"?

All of it was fake.

He had been lying to me from beginning to end!

My phone rang again. It was Mr. Davis.

"Hazel, the doctor is pressing for the payment again! Your mom can't wait; you need to hurry!"

I looked down at the card in my hand and suddenly burst out laughing.

I was a college student, working four jobs to support him, scrimping and saving, only to pour it all into him.

And he used a fake card to trick me for three years, making me willingly be his ATM.

Fine.

Ethan, you're really something else.

I fiercely rubbed my face, hailed a cab back to our rental apartment, and dug out all of Ethan's documents: his ID, vehicle registration, bank professional qualification, fund manager license, academic certificates, etc. I photographed each one.

Ethan worked at the bank and was well-connected. He always appeared outwardly generous, and his Ins posts monthly boasted about putting thirty thousand aside for his girlfriend. Everyone thought he had a legitimate job, stable income, and was a reliable good guy.

Well, perfect.

I started calling Ethan's classmates, friends, colleagues, and clients, one by one.

"Hi, I'm Ethan's girlfriend. He's having some cash flow issues lately. Could you lend him fifty thousand? You can use his documents as collateral."

"Ethan urgently needs some money; would it be okay to lend him one hundred thousand?"

In two hours, I made almost a hundred calls. The 'money received' notifications on my bank app chimed non-stop.

I checked my account: seven hundred eighty thousand dollars had arrived.