Paid in Full

1 I'm a gold-digger. Or at least, that’s what everyone on campus called me. Back when I was dating Harrison Mercer—the golden boy heir to Mercer Enterprises—I was always asking him for money. So he kicked me to the curb. He traded me in for a high-minded, pristine girl who turned down every expensive gift he offered. Naturally, his social media exploded with congratulations from his inner circle. Glad to see Harrison finally dumped the parasite. The new girl is incredible! A million times better than that Tess girl. Why drag my name through the dirt? Honestly, I didn't have time to dwell on it. I was too busy—busy working, busy making money, busy drowning in debt. I was far too exhausted to even ask Harrison why he had promised to protect me, only to turn around and break my heart. Then came the aftermath. Everywhere I worked, Harrison started showing up. He would chase me down, pleading, "Tess, take all my money. Just look at me again, please?" No. Not a chance. He fooled me once. I wasn't about to let him do it a second time. By the time I saw Harrison’s Instagram hard-launch, twelve hours had passed. I had just gotten back to my basement room from a tutoring gig. Gated estate neighborhoods are ridiculously far from campus. After two hours of tutoring high school AP Physics and a freezing forty-minute ride back on my beat-up electric moped, it was already midnight. Forcing a freshly dumped, broke college student to watch her ex parade his shiny new romance feels cruelly poetic. But I couldn't stop my thumb from clicking his story. In the photo, Harrison was holding hands with a gorgeous girl, smiling with a tenderness I used to think was mine alone. Damn it. Harrison really landed on his feet. He had actually managed to pull Serena Blake—the star ballerina from the neighboring conservatory. Good for him. The comments section echoed my thoughts, though far less generously. Amid the chorus of heart emojis and envy, my name stood out like a stain: Congrats to Harrison for finally ditching the leech who only cared about his wallet! Not only did he break free from Tess the gold-digger, but he scored a literal angel! Right?! I was there today! Harrison bought a pile of designer bags and diamond jewelry for the new girl, and she returned every single thing! She literally told him: 'Harrison, I don't want your money. I just want you.' Omg! I'm screaming! They're so perfect together! The new girl is stunning! Way classier than that Tess. Did these people really have nothing better to talk about? Why did they have to tear me down just to build her up? Couldn't they at least have blocked me? Or was this public execution the whole point? Then again, maybe they weren't wrong. All I ever did was ask Harrison for money. In our six months together, I took thirty thousand dollars from him. It made sense that they despised me. I tapped the photo again, zooming in. Serena’s head was resting on Harrison’s shoulder, her smile radiant and effortless. How could I compare? I just looked worn-out and calculating. The lightbulb in my ancient basement rental flickered, buzzing softly in the damp air. Great. Now my eyes were watering from the glare. It was hitting me hard. So hard my vision blurred, tears spilling over before I could stop them. No matter how many times I wiped my face, I couldn't dry my cheeks. Tess, come on, I told myself. When you ran away from that dirt-road town at eighteen, didn't you swear you'd never cry again? Why are you tearing up over a guy? Damn romance. It really ruins your survival instinct. 2 Crying was one thing, but wasting electricity was another. Utilities were expensive. I clicked off the switch, and the basement plunged into pitch-black darkness. When you lose your sight, your other senses take over. I could smell the heavy moisture rising from the concrete floor. From behind the thin drywall, I heard the subtle, frantic gnawing of mice chewing through old wood. I buried my face deep into the thin mattress. Just like when I was a kid: no matter how unbearable life felt, if I cried enough, I’d eventually fall asleep. And once I was asleep, the cruelty of the world couldn't reach me. I wouldn't hurt anymore. 3 Targeted alarms, however, have no respect for heartbreak. I didn't have the luxury of acting like a tragic heroine in a movie—I couldn't dramatically pack a bag, drop out of school, or catch a one-way flight out of the city. I had a degree to finish. I had paychecks to collect. Even if I threw everything away and ran, the debt collectors would track me down anyway. What a pathetic mess. Once fully awake, I pulled myself together and prepared to step back into the daily grind. Harrison’s announcement had made huge waves. The night before, the wealthy heir had reportedly set off fireworks across half the bay just to celebrate his new girlfriend. Everyone on campus knew. As I walked across the quad, two girls passed me, lowering their voices to a whisper: "Didn't the campus heartthrob make a huge spectacle chasing that poor girl a few months ago? He got bored of her after half a year?" "Who knows? But honestly, they were from completely different worlds." "Exactly! Life isn't a romance novel. Why would a rich guy settle for a Cinderella who has nothing when he can have a real heiress?" "At least Cinderella was nobility," another chimed in. "Tess Moss has nothing..." I let out a sharp cough. The girl talking caught my eye, frantically tugging her friend's sleeve and making a terrified face. Their conversation cut off instantly. Before I could walk away, Garrett Cole stepped out from behind a tree, cutting off my path. "Why are you scaring them?" Garrett sneered, leaning casually against the brick pillar of the lecture hall. "They didn't say anything wrong. A sparrow doesn't become a phoenix just because it lands on a high branch for a second." Garrett had hated me long before the breakup. He called me materialistic. He said I was just leeching off Harrison’s trust fund. In truth, Garrett was largely responsible for Harrison pulling the plug on us. Seeing him kick me while I was down felt entirely on brand. I tried to dodge him, but he shifted his weight, blocking the entrance completely. "Guilty conscience?" he mocked. I shook my head, trying to step around his left side. He cut me off again. "Don't play innocent, Tess. The stench of money-grubbing is practically stamped on your forehead. You spent thirty grand of Harrison’s money. If you really didn't care about his wealth, why don't you pay him back?" Garrett’s tone was aggressive, echoing the predatory loan sharks who used to corner me at my high school gates. I knew from experience: if you cringe, people bite harder. I lifted my chin, staring straight into his eyes. "I will pay him back." Garrett barked out a laugh. "With what? You're literally a broke, nameless—" Orphan. The word hung in the air, unsaid. He swallowed it back, looking momentarily uncomfortable. Only my academic advisor and Harrison knew about my dead parents. I had accidentally let it slip to Harrison during a vulnerable moment late one night. Harrison had sworn to keep it between us. Yet here Garrett was, knowing my exact wound. Harrison had lied to me. Then again, what hadn't he lied about? I was a fool for ever believing his promises to protect me. The debt was real. The money was borrowed. And I was going to repay every single cent. I worked three jobs, earning cash dollar by dollar. I had already chipped away a chunk of it, and I would finish the rest eventually. I opened my mouth to shoot back at Garrett, but a familiar voice cut through the air. "Leave her alone, Garrett." It was Harrison. I didn't need to turn around to picture his face—that effortless, relaxed composure that only belongs to people who have never had to worry about rent. You can't fake that kind of privilege. Then, a crisp, elegant female voice followed: "Forget it, Garrett. Let's go." It was Serena Blake. Bright, confident, perfectly poised. She stepped forward, holding her head high, passing me with fluid grace. The scent of her expensive perfume drifted over, and the soft rustle of her designer silk coat brushed against my arm. She was radiant—the quintessential product of unconditional love and endless wealth. My plain, faded white t-shirt suddenly felt like a physical badge of my poverty. The contrast was brutal. Nobody said it out loud, but everyone watching was thinking it. Harrison followed right behind Serena as they walked into the lecture hall together. A power couple. Matching family backgrounds. They looked even more perfect in person than they did in the Instagram photo. Bitterness aside, I still had to step into that classroom. I couldn't afford to skip. I needed a high GPA to maintain my merit scholarship. Staying in school meant surviving, and surviving was a prerequisite for caring about a broken heart. Under the collective, mocking gazes of my classmates, I walked down the aisle and took my usual seat in the front row. Only this time, the boy who used to nap beside me during morning lectures was sitting five rows back, next to someone else. Even the professor gave me a brief, sympathetic look when his eyes swept across the attendance sheet. Life was teaching me a lesson in the starkest way possible: from here on out, I was walking this road completely alone. 4 Going to class alone was fine. Going straight to my shift at the coffee shop afterward was fine, too. I was grinding through my afternoon shift, dizzy with fatigue, when the bell above the shop door chimed brightly. I looked up, only to see a group of students crowding around a couple. There was no time to hide. Someone in the group spotted me immediately. "Well, well. If it isn't Tess! Since Harrison dropped you and you can't afford your lavish lifestyle anymore, you actually have to work for a living?" Laughter erupted among them. The jabs came fast and sharp: "Or maybe she's working at an upscale coffee shop to hunt for her next rich target? Can't blame her, with that manipulative face, she definitely has the assets for it." I wanted to snap back. But on the day Harrison dumped me, Garrett had gotten me fired from another cafe by filing a fake customer complaint. I didn't have the luxury—or the safety net—to stand up to him here. Instinctively, my eyes sought out Harrison. I knew he looked down on me now. But we had been together for six months. At the beginning, I could have sworn he truly loved me. Even if that love was gone, did it really have to turn this ugly? Harrison’s eyes swept over me coldly, as if I were a stranger. Maybe he was desperate to draw a clean line to prove his loyalty to his new girlfriend. He turned to Serena, his tone soft: "Babe, let's leave. This place is depressing..." Serena, however, didn't want to leave. She pouted playfully. "But I really wanted their sea salt Oreo Basque cheesecake. What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable seeing your ex? Or are you afraid to let her serve me?" More laughter rippled through the group. "Harrison, how are you gonna choose between the old flame and the new queen?" "Is that even a question? Who would choose a greedy ex?" "Tess must be devastated. She lost her golden ticket..." I couldn't tell what was colder—their cruel taunts or the winter wind howling outside the window. But over the years, I had learned how to keep a polite smile plastered on my face, no matter what was being thrown at me. Ignoring the hostile stares, I kept my voice professional. "Welcome. Will that sea salt Oreo Basque cheesecake be for here or to go?" The laughter faltered slightly. I repeated smoothly, "Is that for here or to go? Would you like to try any of our seasonal drinks? Our new matcha cold foam and single-origin pour-overs are very popular." I delivered the pitch with absolute, unwavering professionalism until my voice completely drowned out their whispers. My coworker finally snapped out of her shock and stepped up beside me to help take orders. Harrison looked at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes. He had never seen me like this—rigid, composed, unbothered. Just as he parted his lips to speak, Serena cut him off. "Your ex actually has great customer service," she said, pulling out a black credit card. "I'll take one sea salt Oreo Basque cheesecake and an iced Americano. For here." She handed over the card, then turned to the rest of the group. "Their desserts are amazing. Order whatever you want, guys. It's my treat." Someone chimed in, "Harrison’s right here, Serena, we can't let you pay!" Serena laughed, waving her hand. "I don't like relying on my boyfriend's money. I'm an independent woman. Not like some people's exes." Her words were sharp. But in the service industry, I had heard far worse. It was just that... Harrison used to shield me from this. Back when we were dating, whenever a customer was rude to me at work, I would complain to Harrison over dinner. He would get furiously defensive on my behalf, pulling me close and saying, * Quit that job. It’s not like I can’t take care of you.* I had always insisted on keeping my jobs. He would sigh, fondling my hair. * You stubborn little mule.* And whenever I felt overwhelmed, he would wrap his arms around me. * Don't be upset. Next time someone hurts your feelings, come straight to me. I'll buy you a slice of cake and fix it.* Maybe the cake he bought me back then was too sweet, lulling me into the delusion that we were built to last. I remembered once asking him a quiet, hypothetical question: * What if it’s you who hurts my feelings?* He had frowned, pretending to be offended. * How could I ever hurt you?* Promises, it turns out, have an expiration date. They only last for the few seconds it takes to say them. Once the moment passes, you're a fool for holding on. 5 I learned my lesson. I tuned out Serena’s passive-aggressive comments and processed the orders one by one. As for Harrison, he was nothing more than a creditor who wouldn't lift a finger to help me. I expected nothing from him. The bill came out to several hundred dollars. Serena paid without blinking. Once the group finally grabbed their tray and headed to a corner table, my coworker slipped a small pack of tissues into my apron pocket. "If you need to cry, go to the breakroom," she whispered sympathetically. "I'll cover the counter." The wind chime above the entrance had stopped swaying. The quiet acoustic music played softly through the speakers. They were sitting far away now. I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing my weakness or turning my tears into campus gossip. But I didn't want to cry. I pulled the tissues out and handed them back to my coworker with a small smile. "Thanks, but I'm fine. I can handle it." I was like moss growing in a dark corner. I adapted to harsh environments. I had stopped being fragile a long time ago. 6 Adopting the philosophy of removing unnecessary drama from my life, I blocked Harrison on all platforms. That way, I wouldn't have to see his updates anymore. It used to be photos of us; now it was photos of Serena. Still, Harrison was high-profile by nature, and since we shared a major, it was impossible to completely avoid hearing news about the campus golden couple. I kept telling myself: Tess, you're just not busy enough. If you're working hard enough, you won't have time to care. Earlier, when I was dating Harrison, I had turned down a high-paying tutoring gig from 6:30 PM to 8:30 PM because I wanted to keep my evenings free for our dates. Now that my evenings were empty, I re-contacted the family. My standardized test scores and academic record were top-tier, and my track record for improving students' grades was undeniable. I landed the gig instantly. My schedule became insane: morning classes, afternoon shifts at the coffee shop, and two separate tutoring clients every evening. When your day is packed from 6:00 AM to midnight, your brain doesn't have the bandwidth to grieve. Breaking up had its perks. At least now, I was earning money fast enough to clear my debts sooner. 7 The only complication was my new 6:30 PM tutoring client. The agency had only given me the client's last name—Cole. I hadn't realized until I showed up at the gated estate that I was tutoring Garrett Cole's younger sister. When I arrived at the grand brick house, materials in hand, I ran right into Garrett as he was heading out. When he recognized me, he burst out laughing. "Did you seriously stalk me all the way to my house? Is working too hard for you, or did you realize you can't get Harrison back, so you're moving on to me?" He spun his sports car keys around his index finger, his posture oozing arrogant mockery. "Points for effort on finding my address, Tess. But I'm not interested in a gold-digger. Try your luck somewhere else." I had zero energy to waste arguing with someone like Garrett. I just wanted to do my job and leave. But considering the Cole family was paying double the market rate, I swallowed my pride. "I'm here for a job," I said quietly. Before Garrett could scoff again, his mother walked into the foyer. Mrs. Cole smiled warmly when she saw me. "Ah, Tess! You're here. Come in, come in! I'm putting my daughter Lily in your hands from now on." Garrett stood there, his jaw practically dropping to the floor. His face cycled through a spectrum of shock, embarrassment, and anger before he grumbled, "Mom, she probably has ulterior motives." Smack. Mrs. Cole slapped the back of his head with zero hesitation. "What nonsense are you talking? Do you know how hard it was to book Tess? She’s the top-rated tutor in the city!" Garrett sneered, "Mom, she's the gold-digger who got dumped by Harrison Mercer." Mrs. Cole snapped, her voice stern: "I don't know who raised you to be so judgmental! A young woman caring about money just means she's realistic and grounded. You were born lucky, Garrett, so you don't have to worry about survival. That doesn't give you the right to judge people who do. Stop talking nonsense." After shutting her son down, Mrs. Cole turned to me with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry about him, Tess." Maybe I had been surrounded by hostility for too long. Feeling unexpected empathy from a stranger made my eyes sting. I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It's okay, Mrs. Cole," I said softly. "It doesn't bother me." 8 My life settled back into a quiet, relentless routine: working, studying, and pushing my GPA as high as it could go. On payday, I calculated my total earnings across all jobs: twenty-seven hundred dollars. Twenty-five hundred went straight to my debt repayments. Fifty dollars covered my utilities and shared basement rent. That left me with one hundred and fifty dollars for living expenses. I decided to buy a new dress. Back when we were dating, Harrison had once made a offhand comment: Do you only own, like, three dresses? You wear them on rotation. Ever since then, whenever I saved a tiny surplus, I made a point to buy myself one cheap, pretty dress. This was the first dress I had bought for myself since the breakup. I put it on, applied a touch of light makeup, and looked at myself in the cracked mirror on my wall. It looked nice. I was doing just fine taking care of myself. So why, I wondered, when Harrison confessed his feelings to me with those soft, loving eyes, did I ever entertain the thought of depending on him? I suppose life had been too bitter back then. I had mistaken love for something sweet. Now I knew better. Romance was just life wrapped in a thin layer of candy coating. Once the sugar dissolved, you were left with the exact same harsh reality as before. Under the soft moonlight, I washed the new dress by hand and hung it on the clothesline in the small ground-floor courtyard of my building. The night breeze blew past, carrying the fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with faint floral notes from the garden. I sat on a wooden crate and stared at the moon for a long time. Tomorrow was my day off. After a long, uninterrupted sleep, I would be unstoppable again. 9 The next afternoon, I put on my new dress and rode my moped toward the Cole estate. Halfway there, three men stepped into the middle of the quiet suburban road, blocking my path. It was the loan shark who had haunted my life since middle school—a man with a jagged scar running across his cheek—along with his two heavy-set thugs. Scarface stood dead center in front of my moped. I tried to steer around him, but one of the thugs stepped in front of my tire. "Time to pay up, Tess," Scarface grunted. "I already wired the monthly twenty-five hundred this morning," I said, keeping my voice steady. I knew why they were here. They had likely gambled away their money and were trying to squeeze extra out of me. In the past, whenever they ambushed me like this, I would panic and borrow emergency cash from Harrison—sometimes three grand, sometimes five grand. But I didn't have Harrison anymore. And I didn't have extra money. I spread my hands open. "Twenty-five hundred a month is my absolute limit. Where do you expect me to get more?" Scarface smirked, his facial scar contorting menacingly. "You said the exact same thing last time. But after I hung around your campus gate for a couple of days, you magically found the cash." When you're at your absolute lowest, the last thing you want is for the world to see your shame. You don't want pity. But when you fight too hard to keep your pride intact, people realize what leverage they have over you. Scarface knew my pride was my weak spot. "Maybe we should pay another visit to your university," the thug added, stepping closer. "Let your classmates see who—" His threat was drowned out by the roar of a high-performance engine. A sleek blue sports car pulled up along the curb, its window rolling down to reveal Garrett Cole’s smirking face. "Well, well, look what we have here," Garrett mocked, adjusting his sunglasses. "If it isn't our resident gold-digger!" Why him? Why now? I didn't want anyone—least of all Garrett—to see the degrading details of my life. I stepped forward, blocking his view of the men. "Keep driving, Garrett," I said sharply. "This has nothing to do with you." Garrett, of course, never listened. He glanced past me at the three rough-looking men, his eyes lighting up with cruel amusement. "Tsk, tsk. What's going on, Tess? Cornered by debt collectors? I told everyone you weren't clean. First you scammed Harrison, now you're tutoring my sister? You really know how to play the system." He leaned out of the car window, pulling out his phone to record the scene. I lunged forward and snatched the phone out of his hand. "This is private! It has nothing to do with you, Garrett. I’ve never done anything to you—stop harassing me!" Garrett let out a cold laugh, stepping out of the car. "I just hate hypocrites like you. You're taking out high-interest loans, and you still pretend you're pure?" "Who are you calling high-interest?!" Scarface snapped defensively, puffing out his chest. "We run a legitimate private lending firm!" His two thugs nodded in agreement. Garrett shrugged carelessly, brushing off the loan shark. "Whatever loan you want to call it. I'm just curious—what did a broke college girl need all that money for? Buying designer bags?" Before I could speak, Scarface barked out a laugh. "Designer bags? Are you blind? Does anything she's wearing look like it costs more than thirty bucks? This money wasn't even hers! It was the debt her parents left behind when they died in that highway crash. They kicked the bucket, so the kid has to pay!" A sudden gust of wind blew across the road, kicking up dust and dry leaves. A sparrow flew overhead, disappearing into the trees. I stood frozen on the asphalt. The secret I had guarded so fiercely for years—the secret I buried under long shifts, high grades, and polite smiles—was violently torn open right there on the roadside. My dignity was smashed to pieces at Garrett’s feet. I braced myself for his laughter. I waited for him to say, So that's why you're a gold-digger, or Trash like you deserves a life like this. But the insult never came. Garrett’s smug smile vanished completely. His face went pale, his eyes darkening as a heavy silence fell between us. When he finally spoke again, his voice lacked all its previous arrogance, tinged with a hesitation I had never heard from him before.