Five Years Abroad, A Stolen Love

In my fifth year in the United States, my younger brother sent me a message saying he was getting married.

And the bride-to-be turned out to be my first love.

She had no idea who I truly was. Back then, she thought I was poor and left me for a rich heir.

I never imagined that years later, she would end up getting involved with my brother.

Staring at the photos and messages my brother had sent, I was about to reply and put a stop to the marriage.

But just then, my first love sent me a message of her own.

“Ethan Carter, I’m getting married. The wedding will be held in three days.”

“I’m marrying Daniel Carter, the second young master of the Carter family in New York City. You’ve heard of them, right? The Carter Group is a Fortune 500 company, and their wealth could fill the entire city.”

“Once I marry him, I’ll finally rise to the upper class and completely cut ties with people like you—those poor nobodies at the bottom.”

“From now on, we won’t even belong to the same world. You won’t get to see me again. Attending the wedding will be your last chance.”

If she hadn’t messaged me, I would have long forgotten her contact information.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“I don’t have time. I’m not going.”

“And tell me, do you really love money that much?”

Her reply came back sharp and scathing:

“You idiot, if I don’t love money, do you expect me to love you? What else can you offer besides doing laundry, cooking, and handing over a measly paycheck every month? All you ever did was send me a $100 Valentine’s transfer once in a while. What good is that?”

“Can you give me a mansion? Can you put me in a Ferrari? Can you buy me a Hermès bag?”

“Why should I waste my life suffering with you? I’d rather follow a rich old man!”

“I must have been blind to ever fall in love with you.”

“You must come to my wedding. I need you to see with your own eyes how far apart we are now, how happy I am without you. Only then will you understand how much you wronged me.”

“That’s the only way I’ll ever feel vindicated.”

“You owe me that—you have to come!”

Reading her barrage of messages, I smirked with disdain.

“Fine. I’ll go. As you wish.”

Closing the screen, I stared blankly at the reflection of my own face on the phone.

The mature, refined man I saw was nothing like the penniless boy Sophia Reed had abandoned five years ago.

I had met Sophia when I had just started college—a naïve freshman, still green to the world.

Right after I finished my SATs, my father rushed to bring back his illegitimate son and mistress.

Under the pressure and scheming of my stepmother Margaret Carter, I was thrown out of the family home.

They called it “a necessary trial for a man.”

Sophia had once been my salvation during those years.

She was cold and beautiful, refined and elegant—

yet she only ever showed her gentleness to me.

No man could resist a woman like her, and I was no exception.

Once I fell in love, I swore to make her the happiest woman in the world.

To keep that promise, I attended classes by day and snuck out at night to work part-time jobs.

Even though I only had $200 a month to live on, I still gave Sophia $400 in pocket money without fail.

Those four years of college were the happiest of my life.

After graduation, thanks to a single remark from Margaret, I was forced into the family company, starting at the very bottom.

With no salary during my internship, I kept working side jobs to survive.

On Valentine’s Day or anniversaries, I would transfer her $100 as a token of love.

It wasn’t much, but for me—when a single meal cost only a few dollars—it was a fortune.

But she changed.

Instead of being grateful, she became filled with contempt.

“Another $100? You sent me that in college, and now, with a job, it’s still the same? That’s not even enough for a manicure!”