Chapter 3

3

Not only did my two other roommates become Lyra's little minions, but many other students in our class started worshipping her too.

They spent their days sucking up to her, bringing her coffee and snacks, just hoping to get a scrap of her wealth.

Lyra was generous with them. She'd buy them boba or treats frequently―using the money she borrowed from me.

The other roommates mocked me behind my back, calling me an idiot for not using Lyra's connections. They said I was destined to be a nobody forever.

I just smiled and didn't expose her.

I knew the truth.

The higher you climb, the harder you fall.

When the timing is right, I won't have to do a thing. She'll shatter into pieces all on her own.

Besides, my life was too busy to care about her pathetic drama.

I have nearly ten million dollars in my savings account.

But only a small fraction of that came from my dad.

The rest, I earned myself.

On the surface, I'm just a freshman design major. But in reality, I'm a high-end freelance designer.

I've been obsessed with design since I was a toddler.

My dad was thrilled about my passion, so he paid top-tier designers to give me one-on-one lessons.

Design has many branches, and my teachers were experts in different fields.

Thanks to them, I have experience in graphic design, fashion, architecture, jewelry, and even game design. I'm a total all-rounder.

But so far, graphic design has been my main moneymaker.

I started taking commissions back in middle school.

My dad has a massive network, so he recommended me to premium, wealthy clients.

They were more demanding than average clients, but the pay was astronomical.

Under that kind of pressure, my skills improved at lightning speed.

By the time I graduated high school, I could compete with the professional designers at my dad's company.

But that success came at a price.

In high school, I worked late and woke up early. Balancing school and professional work left me with zero free time. I neglected the gym, ignored my skin, and knew nothing about makeup.

This resulted in me looking totally average with rough skin. I didn't look like a girl born with a silver spoon at all.

My dad was worried about it, but I never listened. I was too obsessed with perfecting my craft.

Even when I was dating, I rarely had time to actually talk to my boyfriend.

That's why my feelings for Dustin weren't that deep.

Now that I'm in college, most of the classes cover things I already know by heart. My workload is lighter, giving me plenty of time for other things.

I finally accepted the top-tier VIP gym card my dad had been pushing on me. I also added a professional celebrity makeup artist on WhatsApp for lessons.

With my dad's help, I had all the resources I needed to learn fast.

I set a detailed plan for myself.

In three months, I would undergo a complete physical transformation.

Surprisingly, on the very first day of my plan, I ran into Dustin at the campus dining hall.

He was wearing a pair of Hermès sneakers that cost over a thousand dollars. His clothes and bag were all high-end, loud designer brands.

Just walking by, he drew the envious stares of countless students.

Lyra was clinging to his arm, looking like the happiest girl in the world.

She was still carrying the Chanel bag she'd shown off earlier, and even her hair clip was Miu Miu, worth over five hundred bucks.

The two of them looked like walking bars of gold.

In reality, truly wealthy people rarely wear their net worth on their sleeves. Most are low-key, simple, and even frugal.

Even if they wear expensive clothes, they aren't flashy about it.

Like my dad―he goes for runs in T-shirts that look faded from washing, and no one would guess they cost five figures.

In my experience, the more someone flaunts it, the poorer they actually are.

Trying to fake being rich when you're broke usually ends in a total disaster.

I shook my head and picked a seat far away from them.

However, Lyra spotted me. Her eyes lit up as she dragged Dustin over to my table to introduce him.

"Avery, this is the boyfriend I told you about. This is Dustin Duke!"

"Dustin, honey, this is my roommate, Avery Young!"

Dustin scanned my outfit, then looked at my bare, tired face. He let out a contemptuous smirk. "Hey there, Avery."

I had no desire to talk to him, so I just gave a dismissive nod.

Lyra, seeing that I wasn't reacting with the jealousy she expected, pushed further.

"Dustin is incredibly wealthy. He drives a Maserati! Maybe he can take you for a spin sometime!"

"Oh, and Dustin says the dining hall food is too cheap and probably unsanitary. He's going to take me to high-end steakhouse every day. If you ever want a real meal, you're welcome to join us!"

Her high-pitched, fake voice felt like a fly buzzing in my ear. It was giving me a migraine.

"No thanks. I'm good."

I picked up my tray and walked away.

After finishing my meal, I stepped out of the bathroom to find Dustin waiting by the door.

"So, you're roommates with my girlfriend?" He leaned against the wall, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I shot back, "So what?"

He chuckled. "Nothing. I just can't figure out how you got so thick-skinned all of a sudden."

"You have no money, no looks, and no body. How are you not embarrassed to be friends with a rich girl like her?"

I almost lost it.

Rich girl?

Do you have any idea that your "rich girl" owes me three hundred thousand dollars?