I See Your Ten Digit Balance

Ever since I was a child, Ive had a secret. When I look at someone, I can see their exact bank balance floating right above their head.

It was this little gift that saved me. Back in the orphanage, I used it to choose my adoptive parentsa couple who dressed in faded, off-brand clothes but actually had a cool hundred million sitting in their accounts.

But my taste of the good life was short-lived. The biological daughter theyd lost years ago was found, and she came back to claim her throne.

Tiffany hated me for occupying her space. She made it her lifes mission to torment me, leaving me bruised and broken in ways no one else cared to see. I endured it all, keeping my head down, just so they would continue paying my college tuition.

The moment I finally graduated, degree in hand, I was ready to run. I was packing my life into a single duffel bag when Tiffany blocked my path, her face twisted in rage.

"I thought the guy I was talking to online was some rich heir with a Ferrari," she hissed, shoving her phone in my face. "Turns out hes just some pathetic loser who rides a Lime bike."

"If he starts stalking me, its going to ruin my reputation. You're going to go meet him instead. Tell him youre the girl hes been talking to. Tell him you're Cindy."

I looked in the direction she was pointing, out the window.

A loser?

Above the mans head, in glowing, undeniable numbers, was a ten-digit balance.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. I grabbed Tiffany's arm, unable to mask my sudden excitement.

"Tell me everything," I said. "Every single detail you two talked about. Im going right now."

Tiffany let out a sharp, mocking laugh when she saw how eager I was.

"Are you really that desperate, Zoe? Can't even keep your drool in check over a lowlife like that?"

She tossed her phone at my face. It hit my cheek before sliding into my hands. "Have at him. If you're that starved for a man, hes all yours. Take him, leave, and honestly, do me a favor and never come back."

I swallowed the bitter taste of her insults, keeping my focus entirely on the screen. I memorized every text, every shared inside joke, every detail of their digital romance.

Then, drawing in a long, steadying breath, I walked out of the house and made my way toward the man Tiffany had discarded like trash.

"Hi," I said, stepping up to him. I forced my voice to be light, cheerful. "I'm Cindy. The girl you've been texting. But my real name is Zoe."

I offered my hand, a warm smile stretching across my face.

His eyes lit up, a flicker of genuine surprise washing over his features.

"Oh," he said, his voice softer than I expected. "You look... different than your pictures. Better, actually. Much better."

"Im Wyatt," he replied, wrapping his hand around mine.

Tiffany had only ever sent him blurry, angled photos of her back or side-profile. Since our builds were similar, Wyatt had no reason to doubt me.

But as our hands met, I wasn't listening to his voice. I was staring at the space just above his head, carefully counting the digits glowing there.

One, two, three... ten digits. Over a billion dollars.

What made my breath catch, though, was that the number wasn't static. Even as we stood there, it was ticking upward, climbing steadily with every passing second.

So this was what real, obscene wealth looked like. He didn't have to lift a finger; his money was making money faster than most people could spend it.

If I could play this right, if I could tie myself to him, I wouldn't just escape the hell of my adoptive family. Id have a future.

While I was lost in my calculations, Wyatts expression shifted, a quiet vulnerability clouding his eyes.

"I... hope you aren't disappointed," he murmured, gesturing self-consciously to his scuffed, cheap foam clogs and the faded, oversized t-shirt he wore. "I could only afford a city bike to get here. Do you hate me for being poor?"

He looked like hed crawled out of a clearance bin at a thrift store. But Tiffany, in her endless pursuit of trying to play the "sweet, low-maintenance girl" to hook what she thought was a rich guy, had established a very specific online persona. She had pretended to be a struggling, modest girl.

So I played along seamlessly.

"Im literally wearing my sisters discarded hand-me-downs right now," I said, gesturing to my faded sweater. "If anything, its nice to meet someone who knows the value of a dollar. I guess thats why we clicked so well."

Tiffany had assumed that playing the victim of poverty would win her a rich boyfriend who would shower her with gifts. She had no idea that Wyatt had beaten her to the punch, using the exact same strategy to test her.

Wyatt scanned my thin frame, taking in my slightly hollow cheeks and the cheap fabric of my clothes. The suspicion in his eyes melted away, replaced by a soft, growing warmth.

But the test wasn't over.

"We can't just stand on the sidewalk all day," he said, rubbing his back. "Let me buy you lunch."

He unlocked a city bike for me, deliberately positioning his cracked, ancient smartphone so I could see it.

I didn't say a word. I pulled out my own phonethe screen webbed with deep fracturesand offered to buy him a ninety-nine-cent Arizona iced tea from a convenience store.

"Thanks for coming out to see me," I told him as we biked side-by-side. "It really means a lot."

Inside, I was secretly thrilled. I wanted to see exactly how far Wyatt was willing to drag this "broke boy" act.

After a thirty-minute bike ride that left my legs burning, he pulled up to a dingy, strip-mall diner with a sign that read: All-You-Can-Eat Buffet - $7.99.

I paused at the entrance, and Wyatts shoulders slumped slightly. He gave me a look that said, I knew it.

Still, he rubbed his hands together nervously, playing the part of the anxious, low-income worker.

"I know its not fancy," he said, his voice tight. "But money is tight. I do delivery driving, and after gas, I barely clear eighty bucks a day. Zoe, do you look down on me for bringing you here?"

I blinked, my stomach choosing that exact moment to let out a loud, traitorous growl.

"Are you kidding?" I said, my eyes shining with absolute sincerity. "Im the black sheep of my family. My parents stopped giving me a dime the second I started college. Ive been working three part-time jobs just to pay tuition. Most days, I survive on a single side of white rice from the campus dining hall mixed with free hot water and ketchup."

"To me, an all-you-can-eat buffet is practically a Michelin-star feast."

I wasn't lying. The hunger in my belly was very real. Before he could even respond, I grabbed a plastic tray and headed straight for the food line.

If this had been Tiffany, she probably would have dumped a plate of hot food over his head and walked out. But I was practically vibrating with excitement, piling my plate high with whatever looked hot and heavy.

"Mac and cheese, yes please. Mashed potatoes... definitely. Fried chicken... oh, absolutely."

Wyatt followed close behind, watching me heap mounds of heavy carbs onto my plate. When we sat down and I began eating with genuine, unpretentious joy, a sudden tenderness softened his face.

"You really aren't faking this, are you?" he murmured.

I was too busy inhaling a roll to answer. Compared to my ravenous appetite, Wyatt barely touched his food. It was clear he wasn't used to such greasy, low-grade fare. He took a few polite bites and set his fork down.

Naturally, I finished his leftovers, too.

Once the plates were clean, I leaned back, patting my stomach with a contented sigh. "Thank you, Wyatt. That was honestly the best meal I've had all year."

"Don't get used to it," he said, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "Once I make it big, I'll take you to a place that'll make this look like garbage."

When he offered to drop me off at home, I shook my head.

"I'm not going back there," I said softly. "Im going to find a cheap hostel to crash at for a few days while I look for a job."

I remembered from Tiffanys chat history that Wyatt had been deeply curious about her living situation. Tiffany, who had been pampered her whole life, could never quite fake the gritty details of a hard life; she had always brushed his questions off with cute, deflective emojis.

But I had nothing to hide.

"Im adopted," I told him as we walked down the street. "A few days after they took me in from foster care, their biological daughterthe sister I mentionedwas found and brought back. From that moment on, I became a ghost in my own home. My sister found endless, cruel ways to make me pay for existing, and my parents looked the other way. But they kept a roof over my head and paid for my school, so I try to be grateful."

Wyatts hands balled into tight fists inside his pockets. "And you just took it? You let her treat you like that?"

I shrugged and rolled up my sleeves, showing him the faded, thin scars on my forearms. Some were from where Tiffany had burned me with matches, others from where she'd scratched me with rusty nails, and one deep mark from when she'd set the family dog on me because I touched her shoes.

"Ive graduated now," I said, pulling my sleeves back down. "I can take care of myself. Once I save up enough, Ill pay my adoptive parents back for the tuition and cut ties with them forever."

"Zoe..." Wyatt stared at me, his gaze intense, searching. "To be honest, when we first started texting, I thought you were just playing a character to get my sympathy."

He was completely convinced now. He stood there for a long moment, lost in thought, before looking up at me with dark, unreadable eyes.

"If you could make one wish right now, what would it be?"

I stole a quick glance at the number hovering over his head. In the span of our lunch, his balance had somehow grown by another five million dollars.

He was still playing the pauper, so asking him for a direct handout was out of the question. But maybe, just maybe, he could use whatever connections a secret billionaire had to help me find a job.

"I just want to find a job as soon as possible," I said, keeping my tone practical. "Ideally, something that offers employee housing or a housing stipend, so I can save on rent."

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, a mysterious glint in his eye. "Well, you never know. Maybe the universe will surprise you."

I smiled, not wanting to get my hopes too high. After all, I still had no idea who he really was.

To thank him for lunch, I spent the last of my pocket cash on a couple of cheap ice cream cones. He spent the rest of the afternoon walking with me, helping me check out various sketchy, low-cost hostels in the city.

By evening, after a cheap dinner of street tacos, we parted ways on our city bikes, his eyes lingering on me with a strange, reluctant warmth.

The moment he disappeared around the corner, my phone rang.

It was an HR representative from a major, multi-billion-dollar corporation.

"We saw your resume on a recruiting portal," the woman said, her tone highly professional. "Your qualifications are a perfect match for our open position. Would you be open to an interview tomorrow morning?"

I didn't know the exact connection between this massive firm and Wyatt, but I knew with absolute certainty that this wasn't a coincidence. It was him.

The interview the next day was shockingly easy. The HR manager barely asked any technical questions before offering me the job on the spot, telling me I could start the very next morning.

Excited, I immediately texted Wyatt: Your lips must be blessed! I got a job! It comes with a dorm and a meal stipend! You brought me this luckI have to buy you dinner to celebrate!

Wyatt agreed instantly.

He showed up in the same threadbare outfit, offering a sheepish, self-deprecating shrug. "I don't really have any nice clothes, Zoe. I hope you don't mind walking around with someone who looks like this."

As he spoke, the number above his head flashed. It was eighty million dollars higher than it had been yesterday.

I suppressed a smile. "Once I get my first paycheck, Im buying you a brand-new outfit."

Wyatt blinked, genuinely taken aback. "You can barely afford to feed yourself, and you want to buy me clothes?"

"Youre the first person who ever took the time to listen to me," I said simply. "You treat me well. It's only fair I do the same."

The emotion that flared in his eyes was entirely real. There was no acting in that moment.

From that day on, I poured everything into my new job, desperate to build a life of my own. Wyatt and I met almost every evening, our bond growing deeper with every passing day. We ate at cheap diners and food trucks, but Wyatt seemed to grow more relaxed, his guarded, testing nature melting away entirely.

On payday, I kept my promise. I took him to a retail store and bought him a decent shirt and jeans.

As he changed into them, his expression grew serious, almost solemn.

"Zoe," he said softly, "your luck is just getting started. I have to go away for a few days to handle some business. But when I get back, I have a surprise for you."

I didn't know what he meant, and I didn't dare to dream. In fact, a part of me preferred him as the "poor delivery guy." When he was pretending, we were equals. If he became a god among men, I wouldn't know how to look him in the eye.

For the next three days, I couldn't reach him. He only sent occasional, brief texts telling me to be patient.

But before I could see Wyatt again, the person I dreaded most found me.

Tiffany somehow tracked down my workplace.

"Are you still seeing that guy?" she demanded, cornering me outside the building. "Get him out here. I need to see him right now."

"I was looking at the financial news today, and his face... he looks exactly like Wyatt Harrington!"

She shoved her phone in my face, displaying a high-res photo from an international economic summit.

It was Wyatt.

But in the photo, he was the crown prince of Manhattan's elite. He wore a bespoke three-piece suit, a multi-million-dollar watch, and was stepping out of a black Rolls-Royce surrounded by a phalanx of security guards.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. To think that this untouchable billionaire had purposefully gone without washing his hair, putting on cheap clogs just to eat a seven-dollar buffet with me.

He had really gone all out to test his online date.

Knowing Tiffany would try to claw her way back to him if she found out the truth, I quickly tried to diffuse her suspicions.

"Youre dreaming," I said, shaking my head. "On our first date, he took me to a seven-dollar buffet. Every time we hang out, we eat cheap street food. He literally wears the same faded t-shirt every day, and his clogs are practically falling apart. How could he possibly be a billionaire?"

Tiffany squinted at me, searching for any sign of a lie. I quickly pulled up my transaction history, showing her the cheap diner receipts and photos of our street-food dates.

She scrolled through my phone, taking in my cheap clothes and worn-out shoes, before finally letting out a sigh of relief.

"Right. If he were actually a Harrington, hed be throwing money at you, not making you split cheap tacos. Besides, someone that high-class would never look at a ratty girl like you."

She sneered, tossing my phone back. "Youre built for the gutter, Zoe. You and your little trash boyfriend deserve each other. Just don't tell anyone we're related. My parents would die of embarrassment."

I swallowed my anger, watching her walk away. But deep down, a tiny, foolish spark of hope flared in my chest.

What if... what if Wyatt chose me? What if he stood by me and showed Tiffany exactly what she had thrown away?

I shook my head, clearing the fantasy from my mind. Getting this job was already a miracle. I couldn't afford to be greedy.

I spent the next three days keeping my head down, working hard. But on the fourth day, as I stepped out of the office lobby, a sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up directly in front of me.

The rear window rolled down slowly, revealing a face that was both intensely familiar and suddenly foreign.

It was Wyatt.

"Zoe," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "Get in. We need to talk."

Whispers broke out among my coworkers as they stopped to stare. My brain went entirely numb. I couldn't believe he was exposing his identity like this.

Seeing me frozen on the pavement, Wyatt smiled, opening the door and stepping out.

"What's with the face? Its only been three days. Did you forget me already?"

As he walked toward me, his eyes filled with a gentle, protective warmth, my heart hammered against my ribs. Was the miracle actually happening?

But before I could take a step toward him, a sharp, screeching voice shattered the moment.

"Wyatt! Shes a liar! Zoe scammed you! She isn't Cindyshe's an imposter!"

My breath caught in my throat. I turned slowly, my body turning to ice.

Tiffany was marching toward us, her face flushed with triumph.

"I am the real Cindy!" she yelled, pushing past me to stand directly in front of Wyatt.

Seeing Wyatts expression instantly harden, a cold dread pooled in my stomach.

It was over.

Just as he was about to reveal himself to me, the truth had come out. If he realized our entire relationship was built on a lie...

Forget about a future with himI would probably lose my job, my dorm, and my only shot at survival.

I wanted to explain, but terror choked the words in my throat. The mocking whispers of the gathering crowd seemed to press in on me from all sides, forcing my head down.

"Look!" Tiffany screamed, shoving her phone in his face. "Here's my account! Here are our chats! These are the photos I sent you! I have all the proof. Zoe is a fraud. You have to destroy her!"

Wyatt took her phone, his eyes scanning the screen.

A second later, his brow furrowed, and he turned his cold, piercing gaze to me...