Page 1 of I was labeled a gold digger

The sky was already dark when I left the hospital after visiting my grandmother. I hopped on my e-scooter and raced toward the bar where I worked.

Halfway there, the rain started pouring. For a split second, I was distracted, and my wheels skidded on the slick pavement.

Of course, I had to crash into a Maybach.

A rear-end collision in the rain. I was completely at fault.

A door opened and a man stepped out, unfurling a black umbrella. He tilted it kindly in my direction. As he got closer, I saw he was around my age, but with a refined, almost delicate beauty. Fair skin, a high-bridged nose, and sharp, elegant eyes that tilted up at the corners. His suit, though brandless, was impeccably tailored, making him look even more coolly aristocratic in the rain.

I moved my aching arm and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely.

"I'm so sorry, the rain was too heavy, my scooter slipped, I'm really so sorry"

A pathetic little whimper escaped my lips, brimming with self-pity. I held up my scraped arm, rubbing at my eyes. If I was going to play the victim card, now was the time.

I was a student by day and a worker by night. Medical bills, tuition, living expensesI was short on everything. There was no way I could afford to fix his car.

I'd heard stories of rich car owners magnanimously forgiving broke commoners. A desperate prayer formed in my mind: Please let him be a kind, wealthy man who doesn't care about the money.

A familiar female voice cut through the rain, sharp with impatience. "Bruno, hurry up! Don't make me late for work!"

Work? A high-society heiress who takes a Maybach to her part-time job?

A pale, oval face appeared in the car window. It was Victoria, the scholarship student from the class next to mine.

Bruno pushed the umbrella into my hand and helped me right my scooter.

He sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. "Forget it. Just go. Be careful on the road."

I thanked him profusely, terrified he would change his mind, and sped off into the rain.

As I left, I heard Victoria complain, "What a hassle. I'm never riding in your car again."

I recognized him then. Bruno. The old-money heir from the campus forums. He was the sole heir to the Antonia Corporation, and he was hopelessly in love with the scholarship student, Victoria.

The whole school knew he was pursuing her. He'd showered her with luxury gifts and arranged internships, all of which she had publicly refused. The last time, he'd staged a massive drone light show confession outside the women's dorms. Victoria had finally appeared, looking distressed, begging him to "stop putting her on the spot," insisting she didn't want his "charity" and that she wanted to "make her own way in life."

I thought their tragic love story had finally ended, but here he was, still trying.

I suppose it made sense. Everyone praised Victoria for her integrity and backbone. I'd even heard girls getting lectured by their boyfriends when they asked for birthday presents. "Look at Victoria. She never spends a man's money."

In the bar's staff room, I shivered as I changed into the bunny costume. The skirt was scandalously short, barely covering anything. I pulled on two pairs of thick tights and pinned the neckline higher.

My manager knew my situation. "You get a 15% commission on drinks," she'd told me. "As long as the customers don't get out of hand, don't turn your nose up at the money."

I nodded. A week's pay as a bunny girl could cover several more days of my grandmother's hospital stay.

The door at the end of the hall opened. I froze. Victoria?

She was wearing an oversized janitor's uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, struggling with a heavy water bucket.

Our eyes met. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of derision.

"You work here too?"

"Yeah. You? Janitor?"

"The hourly wage is higher here," she said, straightening her back. "And it's clean."

I glanced at her washed-out sneakers and almost laughed. What was the difference between being a janitor here and anywhere else? You were still scrubbing floors. Or was she implying that, compared to my job, hers was infinitely cleaner?

We weren't close, so we didn't speak further.

I carried a tray of drinks into a private room to make a sale.

The room was thick with smoke. Bruno and his circle of rich friends were lounging on the sofas. A shattered bottle of Ace of Spades lay on the floor, its contents pooling on the carpet. Victoria was called in to clean it up.

"Isn't that the girl Bruno's after?" someone whispered.

The guy next to her quickly took the mop. "Here, let me get that for you."

Victoria's head snapped up, her eyes like ice. "No need! You break a bottle to force me to serve you, and now you're playing the nice guy?"

The room fell silent.