Pay Me Back Mr Billionaire

The moment I stood on the edge of the rooftop, ready to let the wind take me, a ledger crystallized in my mind. Cold. Precise. Irrefutable.

It whispered a truth I hadnt been able to see: I was nothing more than a disposable musethe tragic, short-lived pure heart in some twisted redemption arc. And my boyfriend, Grayson? He wasn't the struggling student he pretended to be. He was the crown prince of a Manhattan real estate empire, a man who could buy and sell the very building I was standing on.

For four years, he had played the role of the starving artist, watching me get bullied and overworked with a detached, chilling silence. As it turned out, my suffering was merely his "test."

The most sickening part? According to the script of his life, after my death, he would reclaim his throne and unleash a wave of "vengeful" grief. Hed probably light a hundred-dollar bill at my grave, sighing about how I was the only girl who ever loved him for his soul and not his billions.

But the reality? For those four years, I was his benefactor. He ate, slept, and breathed on my dime. Even that five-figure designer watch on his wrist was something Id bought by maxing out three different credit cards.

I didn't jump. I stepped back from the ledge.

I walked down those stairs, found him in the middle of the crowded quad, and slammed a stack of itemized billsyears of accumulated debtright into his face.

"Hey, Grayson. Its time to settle up. Fifty thousand dollars. I want every cent."

01

The spreadsheets, crisp and cold, fluttered against his face before hitting the pavement.

Graysons expression darkened instantly. "Nina, haven't you had enough of this tantrum?"

He reached out to grab my wrist, but I wrenched it away with a force that surprised even me. My skin burned where hed touched it.

"Nina, honey, don't be like this. If it's about money, we can talk," Isabelle stepped forward, her hand sliding possessively into the crook of Graysons arm. She looked at me with that pitying, "bless your heart" smile she always used for the help. "Grayson didn't mean to hurt you."

I laughed. My eyes landed on the limited-edition jacket she was wearing. Grayson had told me it was a birthday gift for her. A "high-end knockoff," hed called it.

Coincidentally, hed taken five thousand dollars from me last month. Claimed it was a "family emergency."

"That jacket he bought you last month? Im pretty sure I paid for that too," I said, my voice cutting through the humid afternoon air. "Tell him to pay me back for that, as well."

The smile on Isabelles face cracked, piece by piece. "What are you talking about?"

"Nina, youve lost it!" one of Graysons hangers-on shouted, stepping into my personal space. "You think a guy like Grayson needs your money?"

"Exactly! You got dumped, so now youre throwing dirt? Its pathetic," another chimed in.

They circled me like vultures, their faces full of righteous indignation. To them, I was the gold-digger. The jealous ex. The girl who couldn't handle being told no.

I turned to the first one. "Caleb."

"Last week, you bought that new gaming rig. You asked Grayson for five hundred. He told you he was broke and took my card to pay for it."

I pivoted to the next one. "Brooks. Two nights ago at The Onyx. You put a two-thousand-dollar tab on a card Grayson said was his. Want me to pull up the bank statement for the group?"

The quad went silent. Only the rustle of the wind and the hushed whispers of the gathering crowd remained.

Grayson stared at me, his eyes twin pits of ice. "Nina, four years of everything we shared... and all you see is money?"

What a performance. If it weren't for that ledger burning in my brain, I might have actually believed him.

"Yes," I replied. "Our 'love' has a price tag now."

I pulled out my phone, opened the calculator app, and shoved the staggering total in his face. "Fifty thousand. Not a penny less. Venmo? Zelle? Or do you need to ask your daddy for an advance?"

The murmurs grew louder. Dozens of phones were out, lenses trained on us.

"Holy shit, check the schools Sidechat!"

"Its going viral! The architecture prodigy has been 'charity-funding' the secret billionaire heir for four years?"

"Billionaire? Which one?"

Just then, a black Maybach glided silently to the curb. The door opened, and a middle-aged man in a sharp charcoal suit and white gloves stepped out. He ignored everyone, walked straight to Grayson, and opened a black silk umbrella over his head.

He bowed slightly. "Mr. Grayson, your father expects you home."

Grayson straightened his collar, smoothing out the wrinkles where Id grabbed him. He looked at me, and for a second, the mask of the "struggling artist" was gone.

"Nina," he said, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm. "The game is over."

02

Back in the dorm, I couldn't stop shaking.

"Nina!"

Paige jumped down from her loft bed and threw her arms around me. "That was legendary! Im staying up all night to help you draft the legal notice."

We started organizing the folder. It was a museum of his lies.

October 2020: Designer sneakers, 0-0,200.

March 2021: Isabelles birthday party at 'The Onyx,' $4,500.

September 2021: Art gallery rental fees, $8,000.

My phone lit up. Grayson.

[You have twenty-four hours to take down those posts on the forum, or there will be consequences. Don't test me.]

I screenshotted it and sent it to Paige. "Perfect. Direct evidence of a threat. Hes just adding time to his own sentence."

Paige told me to block his entire circle. I was about to, but Isabelles name flashed on the screen. I hit speakerphone.

"Nina, please..." her voice was weak, trembling with fake tears. "Just delete the post, okay? Grayson loves you. This was just... a test. He was going to propose after graduation. He already had the ring picked out..."

I almost choked on a laugh. Paige was typing furiously, but she didn't miss a beat. "Isabelle, are you paying the fifty grand? No? Then shut up and hang up."

"Im trying to help Nina!" Isabelles voice spiked. "You have no idea what his family is capable of. Nina is going to get hurt! You can't win against them. Is the money really worth ruining your life?"

Before I could answer, a notification popped up from an anonymous group chat on the university forum. It was a leak of the group chat Graysons friends used.

Brooks: [Holy shit, Nina is actually going nuclear? Crazy bitch.]

Caleb: [She really thinks shes special? Grayson was just slumming it. Shes just a broke architecture student with no connections.]

Brooks: [For real. Grayson letting her hang around for four years was charity. Now she wants a payout? Hilarious.]

And then, a reply from Isabelle. A "shy" emoji followed by: [Aww, don't be mean guys. Nina is actually kind of pitiful.]

I remembered the night of Graysons gallery opening. Isabelle was wearing a gown Id paid for, smiling at him while they toasted his "genius." I was in the corner, sallow-faced from pulling double shifts at the cafe, getting mocked by his friends for my "cheap" clothes. Grayson hadn't defended me. Hed told me to go back to the dorm early so I wouldn't "embarrass" him.

"Nina?" Paige broke my trance.

I hung up on Isabelle. I found Graysons contact. Block. Delete. One by one, I scrubbed his friends from my life.

Ding.

A message from an unknown number.

[Ms. Nina, I am Graysons mother. Regarding the... misunderstandings between you and my son, I believe we should talk. Name your price. Fifty thousand? Ill give you seventy-five to end this. Delete the posts and disappear.]

I stared at the screen for a long time. I handed it to Paige.

She read it and let out a sharp, dry laugh. "Nina, the accounting has just begun. Don't worry. With me on your side, were going to discuss the interest on this debt."

03

The next morning, my advisor called me into her office.

She pushed a cup of lukewarm tea toward me. "Nina, your recent behavior has been... erratic. People are concerned about your mental state. Perhaps you should take a leave of absence? Just to get your head straight?"

I started to speak, but a knock at the door cut me off. Isabelle walked in, carrying an expensive-looking fruit basket.

"Professor, I just wanted to check on Nina. Shes been so volatile lately. Im worried she might do something desperate." She turned to me, eyes brimming with tears. "Nina, I know youre hurting, but you cant keep lashing out at Grayson like this. Just delete the post. Well find a way to handle the money, I promise."

The advisor nodded in agreement. They were playing "good cop, bad cop" with practiced ease. When I refused to budge, the advisors tone shifted from "concerned" to "impatient." Every time I tried to argue, they talked over me.

So this was what Graysons mother meant by "ending this." Seventy-five thousand dollars to buy my silence, my exit, and a "mentally unstable" label to follow me for life.

Suddenly, the office door was shoved open with a loud bang.

Paige stood there, followed by a very grim-looking Dean of Students. She slammed her phone onto the desk. Graysons text was on the screen: [You have twenty-four hours... or there will be consequences.]

Paige tapped the screen again. An audio file began to play.

It was Isabelles voice from the group chat: "Aww, don't be mean guys. Nina is actually kind of pitiful."

Then, a different recording. A private voice note: "It's disgusting how broke she looks. Did she really think Grayson liked her? Shes just a walking ATM. My mom already talked to the advisorshes getting kicked out today. Who does she think she is, trying to take down a family like ours?"

The fruit basket slipped from Isabelles hand, apples and oranges rolling across the floor. The advisor froze, her lips trembling, unable to find a single word.

Paige tucked her phone away. "The evidence weve gathered is enough to prove that my client, Nina, is being subjected to premeditated, organized harassment and psychological coercion. And considering your role in this, Professor, well be reserving the right to pursue legal action against you personally."

For the first time, I felt the true power of using the rules as a weapon.

As we left the office, the Dean called out to me. He looked at Paige, then at me, his expression complicated.

"The Grayson family... they have deep roots in this city, Nina. This isn't going to end easily."

04

Within ten minutes of leaving the office, the university forum had a new pinned post in bright red.

EXPOSED: Architecture Student Nina Accused of Extorting Ex-Boyfriend for $50k After Being Dumped!

The post was a work of fiction. It painted me as a calculating social climber who had drained Graysons "modest" savings and was now lashing out because he couldn't satisfy my greed. It framed Grayson as the victima guy blinded by love, who gave me everything only to be betrayed.

The comments were a cesspool.

[I knew it. Grayson is way too hot for her. He was definitely doing her a favor.]

[Fifty thousand? Who does she think she is? A Kardashian?]

[This girl is toxic. Cancel her.]

Paige grabbed my phone, her face a mask of cold fury as she scrolled. Isabelles "mean girls" squad had joined the fray. They posted photos of me from freshman and sophomore yearwearing faded T-shirts, eating ramen in the library, pulling all-nighters in the studio with messy hair. I looked plain. Tired. Average.

The caption: [Some people have been planning the 'victim' act since day one. Look at the 'innocent' act. The real Nina is the one screaming for cash now.]

Paige handed the phone back. "Its time."

She logged into my account and hit 'post.'

Subject: Four Years, Fifty Thousand Dollars. The Ledger of a 'Charity Case.'

The post contained a single, massive image: an Excel spreadsheet.

It was an endless, meticulously detailed scroll. Date. Item. Amount. Payment Method. Notes.

From fifty-dollar skins for his video games to five-hundred-dollar "boys' dinners" to thousand-dollar tech upgrades. And behind every single entry was a screenshot of a text message. Grayson begging, wheedling, or simply demanding.

The evidence of my "sweet burden" was now the evidence of his parasitic nature.

At the very bottom was the watch. 0-02,000. Next to it was the credit card statement, and the subsequent "overdue" notices from the bank.

The forum went dead silent for three seconds.

Then, it exploded.

The narrative didn't just shift; it was obliterated.

[Holy... my eyes... This isn't charity. This is a scam.]

[Four years? He sucked her dry.]

[I take it back. Nina isn't an ex; shes a saint. Most tragic partner of the year.]

[Im gonna puke. Isabelle is wearing gifts bought with another girl's credit card debt?]

I watched the comments roll in, and for the first time in years, I felt a strange, hollow peace.

05

Apologies and messages of support flooded my DMs. I felt like I could finally see the light.

Until a high-pitched roar of an Aston Martin engine tore through the quiet of the dorm parking lot.

The light died.

Grayson stepped out of the car. He was wearing a bespoke suit, looking every bit the billionaire heira world away from the guy in the "thrifted" tees Id loved. The crowd of students parted for him like the Red Sea.

He walked up to me, pulled a black card from his wallet, and tossed it at my feet.

"A hundred thousand. Is that enough?"

He looked down at me as if I were an ant hed accidentally stepped on. "Nina, stop embarrassing yourself."

I smiled. My phone was already recording, the red light blinking silently.

"So, the last four years... it was all an act?"

His handsome face finally showed something other than boredom: annoyance. "It was a test, Nina. One you failed."

"I was too good to you. I let you forget your place. I gave you a thousand chances. If youd just stayed quiet, stayed humble, we could have actually made it."

"I even thought that if you passed the final test, Id tell you everything. Id bring you to the estate. Id let you marry into the family."

He spoke as if he were granting me a divine blessing. The crowd began to whisper. The eyes that had just pitied me were now filled with a sickening envy.

"A test?" I repeated, stepping forward until my shoe touched the black card. "When I stayed up all night drawing blueprints so I could split my scholarship money with you, was that a test?"

"When I worked three jobs to buy you that phone and my hands were literally peeling from the industrial soap in the kitchen, was that a test?"

"When I was eating plain bread for a week because my card was maxed out, and you were taking Isabelle to a two-hundred-dollar-a-seat musical using my moneywas that a test too?"

With every question, his face grew more twisted. He had no answer. His patience snapped. He waved a hand dismissively.

"Enough! Nina, stop obsessing over these petty details! It was a game. You lost."

I tucked my phone away and turned my back on him. I didn't look back.

I sent the video to Paige. Five minutes later, the hashtag #TrustFundPrinceTestsGirlfriend hit the top of the trending charts.