He Thought I Was Poor

My name was written on a card and dropped into a box.

And just like that, I, Sloane Richmond, a scholarship student at the prestigious Blackwood University, became the new prey in the latest round of a hunting game played by the school’s untouchable elite.

The one tasked with my taming was the student body president himself, Landon Cole.

He pursued me like something out of a romance movie: gentle, attentive, and obscenely generous. Everyone on campus whispered that I was about to hit the jackpot, to become his pampered little thing. They placed bets behind my back, wagering on how hard I’d be crying on the final day of the one-month deadline.

But none of them knew.

The most dangerous predators are the ones who appear as prey.

I came to this university with a single purpose: to evaluate the character of my potential fiancé.

And now, the evaluation was over.

1

My name is Sloane Richmond.

In the Blackwood University archives, I am, for all intents and purposes, a charity case. On the first day of school, my roommate, Nina, pulled me aside to give me a hushed, conspiratorial rundown of the Blackwood survival guide.

“Sloane, you have to remember, there are two kinds of people at this school.”

She lowered her voice, nodding toward a red Ferrari peeling away from the curb outside our window.

“There are people like us, who fought tooth and nail just to get in.”

“And then there are them,” she said. “The heirs, who show up to class in supercars.”

“And that circle, the one led by student president Landon Cole… you have to stay as far away from them as you possibly can.”

Nina’s expression was dead serious.

“They’re monsters, Sloane. Actual monsters.”

“They love this disgusting game they call the ‘Kingfisher Draw.’”

My hand, holding a glass of water, froze mid-air. I looked at her.

“What kind of game?”

Seeing my casual curiosity, Nina’s voice trembled with urgency.

“They collect the names of pretty, normal girls on campus—girls without money. They write them on cards and put them in a box.”

“Whichever girl one of the rich guys draws, he has one month to make her fall completely and hopelessly in love with him.”

Nina’s face was a mask of disgust and fear.

“And on the last day, in front of everyone, he dumps her in the most humiliating way he can think of.”

“They call it ‘taming the prey.’ The winner is the one whose prey cries the hardest during the breakup.”

She gripped my arm, her knuckles white.

“Last semester, a junior from our department was chosen. A month later, she found out she was pregnant.”

“The guy’s fiancée showed up and slapped her in front of a crowd, called her a whore.”

“The junior… she couldn’t take it. She jumped from the top of the humanities building. She and the baby… both gone.”

“So, Sloane, you’re so beautiful. Please, just be careful. Don’t let them notice you.”

I reached out and patted her tense shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” I said, offering a placid smile. “I’m just here to study.”

Nina looked into my eyes and, for some reason, shivered.

That night, in a private suite at the exclusive Aurelian club.

Isabelle Beaumont giggled, shaking a polished wooden box.

“Landon, darling, it’s your turn! Let’s see which lucky girl gets to be graced by your attention.”

Landon Cole was draped across a velvet sofa, swirling a glass of red wine, the picture of lazy, aristocratic boredom. He glanced at the box without a flicker of interest.

Undeterred, Isabelle pushed the box right under his nose, her voice thick and sweet like honey.

“Come on, Landon, just draw! I put a real prize in there for you this time.”

“Scholarship student from the art department. Name’s Sloane Richmond. Looks like an absolute angel. Imagine the satisfaction of winning her over just to break her.”

Hearing this, a slow smile spread across Landon’s face. He reached out and plucked a card from the box.

On it, in elegant script, was the name: Sloane Richmond.

He stared at the card, his smile deepening with meaning.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a low purr.

“This month, let’s play with her.”

From that day on, my quiet university life was suddenly spectacular.

Everywhere I went, I “happened” to run into the student body president.

Lining up in the cafeteria, he’d appear behind me, insisting on swiping his card for me. “Come on, fate brought us together in the lunch line. It’s on me.”

Studying in the library, he’d sit across from me. The moment I frowned at a textbook, a note would slide across the table with the solution neatly written out, accompanied by a bright, effortless smile.

I went to the artisanal coffee shop my father had opened for me just outside campus, deciding on a whim to learn how to work the espresso machine. Landon, assuming I was a struggling barista, promptly bought out the entire day’s inventory of cold brew, handing it out to strangers just so I could get off my shift early.

“Don’t work so hard,” he murmured, his voice laced with concern. “A woman’s hands aren’t meant for this.”

It took every ounce of my self-control not to let my eyes roll all the way into the back of my head.

Within a week, the entire campus was buzzing. The student president was relentlessly pursuing the scholarship student, Sloane Richmond. I became the target of every girl’s envy, jealousy, and hatred.

Every time I went back to my dorm, Nina would look at me with the sorrowful eyes one reserves for a lamb being led to slaughter.

“Sloane! I told you to stay away from him!”

I threw my hands up in mock helplessness. “I don’t know how he does it! He just… appears.”

“You can’t fall for it!” Nina stomped her foot. “He’s just playing with you!”

I nodded, my face a perfect portrait of sincerity. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

Of course I knew.

Every time Landon performed one of his grand, romantic gestures, I could see Isabelle and her little posse in the distance, phones held up, recording everything.

Let them film. My good side is all 360 degrees of them.

Then came the invitation to Isabelle Beaumont’s birthday party at the Aurelian. Landon texted, asking me to be his date.

I deliberately played my part. That place is way too expensive. I don’t have anything to wear.

Ten minutes later, he was standing outside my dorm building holding a garment bag from a ridiculously high-end designer. Inside was a starlit blue evening gown with a price tag that could cover four years of tuition.

“Wear this,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Tonight, you’re the princess.”

Gasps erupted from the girls watching from their windows.

“Oh my god, is that a custom D’Amore? That dress costs more than a new car!”

“Sloane Richmond is the luckiest girl alive!”

I had to physically restrain myself from crying with laughter. The price tag was almost as much as one of my favorite pairs of silk pajamas.

I changed into the dress and walked into the Aurelian on Landon’s arm. The club was my eighteenth birthday present from my father, one of the more modest properties in my portfolio. As we entered, the general manager’s eyes lit up. He recognized me instantly and started forward, about to bow.

I shot him a single, sharp glance. The man was a consummate professional; he pivoted smoothly and went to greet another guest as if nothing had happened.

The birthday girl, Isabelle, saw me, and the jealousy in her eyes was a tangible thing.

“Sloane, you look absolutely beautiful. Landon has such exquisite taste.” She paused, then leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But you should be careful in a rented dress. If you damage it, you could never afford to replace it.”

I just smiled and said nothing.

Throughout the party, Landon was the perfect gentleman. He intercepted drinks for me, cut my filet mignon, and draped his suit jacket over my shoulders when I feigned a shiver. Every detail was flawlessly executed, a scene from a Hollywood script.

He pulled me before his friends, introducing me with an air of possession.

“This is my girlfriend, Sloane.”

His friends cheered and offered congratulations, their eyes glinting with derision and amusement. I stood there like a well-dressed doll, playing my part in his production.

Midway through, I excused myself to go to the restroom.

Just as I reached the corner, I heard Isabelle’s voice drift from the hallway.

“Izzy, don’t you think Landon’s going a little overboard this time? A custom D’Amore gown? Is it possible he’s actually serious?”

Isabelle let out a sharp, ugly laugh.

“Are you kidding? My brother bought me that dress. Landon just borrowed it.”

“After he’s done with her, that little charity case is going to have to take it off and give it back to me.”

“It’s like fishing, you know? The more expensive the bait, the more satisfying the catch.”

Another girl chimed in obsequiously.

“You’re a genius, Izzy! Letting the poor girl wear Cinderella’s glass slippers for a night, only to smash them yourself. God, that’s going to be epic.”

Isabelle’s voice was dripping with venomous glee.

“Just you wait. The month is almost up. When the time comes, I’m going to make her strip that dress off in front of the entire school, crying her pathetic little eyes out.”

Around the corner, in the shadows, I pressed the ‘stop recording’ button on my phone.

After Isabelle’s party, Landon’s romantic offensive grew even more intense.

Every morning, he was waiting outside my dorm with an elaborate breakfast. He skipped his own advanced economics seminars to sit with me through my boring required art history lectures. When I dozed off, he would secretly draw a tiny cartoon pig on the palm of my hand.

On the day I had casually invented as my birthday, he presented me with a diamond necklace in front of all my roommates.

Nina’s jaw dropped.

She dragged me onto the balcony, her face etched with worry.

“Sloane, be honest with me. You’re not actually falling for him, are you?”

My fingers grazed the diamonds at my throat. I gave her a reassuring smile.

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you accepting something so expensive?” Nina’s voice was strained with panic. “With guys like him, everything they give, they expect back with interest! How are you ever going to pay for that?”

I patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry.”

“He’s going to regret it.”

The next day, Nina and I were having lunch in the cafeteria. Isabelle, flanked by her friends, walked past our table carrying a tray. With a flick of her wrist, a bowl of scalding hot tomato soup came tipping toward me.

I dodged, but the hot liquid still splashed across my arm.

“Ah!”

Nina screamed, frantically grabbing napkins to dab at my skin.

Isabelle looked down at me, her expression one of pure contempt.

“Oops. So sorry. My hand slipped.”

Her eyes scanned my simple white t-shirt.

“You get that thing from a thrift store for five bucks? Here.” She pulled three hundred-dollar bills from her wallet and tossed them on the table as if feeding a stray dog. “That’s three hundred. Should be enough to buy you a whole new wardrobe.”

I had to clench my fists under the table. That blind fool. This one t-shirt was worth more than her entire tacky outfit. I had specifically chosen it from my closet full of bespoke clothing as my most "understated" piece, and she had just ruined it.

Oh, Dad, I thought, the things your daughter endures for the sake of the family business.

Just then, a figure charged through the crowd.

Landon shoved Isabelle aside with enough force to make her stumble. He rushed to my side, his face a mask of frantic concern.

“Are you okay? Did it burn you? How bad is it?”

He whirled on Isabelle, his voice like thunder. “Isabelle, are you insane? Apologize to Sloane. Now.”

Isabelle’s eyes instantly filled with tears.

“Landon, darling, it was an accident.”

“I said, apologize!”

Startled by his fury, she mumbled a resentful, “Sorry.”

The word was barely out of her mouth before Landon swept me up into his arms, princess-style, and strode toward the campus clinic as the entire cafeteria stared.

“I’m so sorry, Sloane,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion.

“I should have protected you.”

I lowered my gaze, letting my shoulders tremble.

“It’s not your fault,” I whimpered, my voice thick with unshed tears.

He held me even tighter.

“Sloane, trust me. No one will ever dare to bully you again.”

I rested my head against his chest. The cloying scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the acidic smell of tomato soup was truly nauseating. If Dad knew I’d gotten hurt playing this stupid game…

But it was alright. The observation period was almost over.

The one-month deadline finally arrived.

I received a text from Landon.

Lover’s Point. Tomorrow at 7 PM. I’ll be waiting. There’s something important I need to tell you.

Okay, I texted back, adding a smiley face. I’ll bring a gift for you, too. It’s a surprise I prepared just for you. ;)

Nina saw my reply and started pacing like a caged animal.

“Sloane, are you crazy? You’re actually going? He’s obviously going to dump you, and you’re bringing him a gift?”

“I know,” I said calmly.

“That’s why I prepared such a grand one for him.”

A gift he would remember for the rest of his life.

The next evening, I went to Lover’s Point as planned. Landon was already there, looking like a prince straight out of a fairy tale. Beneath his familiar, gentle smile, I could see the glint of a hunter’s excitement. In the shadows of the trees, I caught the tell-tale glint of phone screens. Isabelle and the rest of the Kingfisher Draw players were already in position.

“Sloane,” he began, his voice heavy with fake regret. “I’ve thought about this a lot. I think… I think we should break up.”

“Our families are just from two different worlds. My mother would never approve. It breaks my heart to do this, but it’s better to make a clean break now.”

“It’s for your own good. You’re a wonderful girl, and I hope you find someone who can actually marry you one day.”

He delivered the lines with such heartfelt sincerity; he really had a future in low-budget soap operas.

But if it was a performance he wanted, I was more than happy to oblige.

“So… this whole month?” I asked, my voice trembling as I looked up at him, my eyes shimmering with tears. “Everything you did for me, all the kindness… it was all just a game, wasn't it?”

Landon’s face broke into a cruel, unconcealed smirk.

“Since you’ve already figured it out, I guess I can drop the act.”

“That’s right. It was a game. Sloane, did you really think I could ever fall in love with some poor little scholarship girl?”

He pointed a finger at the dress I was wearing, then at the necklace on my neck, and sneered.

“Do you think you’re worthy of any of this?”

“Now, the game is over.”

“Give back what doesn’t belong to you. Especially that diamond necklace. I was planning on giving that to Isabelle.”

Isabelle and her cronies stepped out from the trees, moving behind Landon, ready to watch me get stripped of my borrowed finery.

I raised my hand and unclasped the diamond necklace he’d given me.

Then, in front of all of them, I drew my arm back and threw it.

The necklace cut a glittering arc through the twilight air before landing in the lake with a quiet plunk.

Isabelle shrieked.

“My diamond necklace! Sloane, are you insane?!”

The others stood with their jaws agape, too shocked to speak.

“Landon was right,” I said, my voice suddenly clear and steady. “A diamond necklace of this quality really isn’t worthy.”

“In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen diamonds of such poor clarity before.”

“As for this dress…” I turned my gaze to Isabelle. “Isabelle, open your eyes and take a good, long look. Does this really look like the dress your brother gave you?”

One of her more observant friends leaned in and whispered nervously, “Izzy… that doesn’t look like the D’Amore couture your brother bought. It… it looks more like the ‘Galaxy of Starlight’ gown the international master designer Julian Devereaux created for the Richmond heiress.”

Isabelle shot her friend a withering glare.

“Are you insane, too? Her last name is Richmond, so that makes her the Richmond heiress? Could a scholarship girl ever wear something like that?”

It was getting late, and I needed my beauty sleep. It was time to wrap this up.

“Landon, I have to admit, playing with you all has been… tiring.”

“The observation period is over, fiancé. Congratulations.”

“You’ve been disqualified.”

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