My Fraud Boyfriend

I stared at the car purchase contract on the counter of the car sales store, my fingertip pausing for two seconds over the name "Viola Scott"—the pen was custom 18K gold, engraved with my initials, a gift from my dad last birthday. The salesman smiled as he handed me the car key, the black casing studded with tiny diamonds that made his eyes gleam with flattery. "Ms. Scott, your custom aniline leather seats and Meteor starry sky roof are all set. You can pick up the car right now. Need me to arrange a driver for you?" I shook my head and slipped the key into my crocodile leather clutch—my mom bought this at Fashion Week; it's one of only three in the world. She thought it was too flashy back then and insisted I take it. Just as I turned to leave, three people in black suits blocked my path. The woman in front tapped her ten-centimeter heels sharply on the marble floor, each click sounding like a challenge to my patience. "So, you're Viola Scott?" She scanned me up and down, her gaze settling on the watch on my wrist, full of contempt. Then, pulling a bank card from her crocodile leather bag, she said, "Leave Mike. There's fifty thousand in here — enough for a country girl like you to live on for two years in the county town." My fingers tightened on the car key, knuckles whitening — "Mike" is Mike Lincoln, the boy I'd been chasing for half a month. We met at a bar last week; he called himself a "startup rookie," and when he smiled, he had two dimples. On a whim, I said I wanted to "give dating a try." "Fifty thousand?" I tugged at the corner of my mouth, my eyes landing on the diamond ring on her finger. I knew that ring style too well—it was the one I grabbed at last year's jewelry fair, a three-carat pigeon blood red diamond ring. It cost eight figures back then and was just 'accidentally lost' in Mike Lincoln's car last week. "This ring's pretty nice. Where'd you get it?" Her face darkened, thinking I was dodging the subject, and she pushed her bank card closer to me once more. "Don't feed me that nonsense! I've checked—you're just a regular student, and your parents run a small restaurant back home. Fifty thousand isn't a small amount for you. Take what's offered and don't push." A girl in a miniskirt with pink hair suddenly lunged out from behind her, grabbing my arm so hard her nails almost dug into my flesh: "Exactly! Mike is about to marry into a wealthy family, and some loser like you actually thinks you deserve him? Just take your money and get lost!" My arm ached from the tug, and I looked down at the jade necklace around her neck—the very necklace I won at an auction last month. At that time, I thought it was too heavy to wear, so I casually tossed it into Mike Lincoln's car and asked him to help me take it back. Never expected it to end up as Vivian Lincoln's jewelry. "That necklace of yours..." I deliberately paused, watching Vivian's face instantly tighten. "Looks like the one I lost." Vivian went pale and hurriedly stuffed the necklace inside her clothes. "What nonsense are you talking about? Mike bought this for me! Are you trying to scam me?" Fiona Lewis chimed in, "Exactly! She is Mike’s friend — what's wrong with buying her a necklace? Viola, don't even think about slandering our family!" I looked again at the diamond bracelet on Fiona's wrist — the gift my dad gave me on my eighteenth birthday. It's a full-diamond design with my birthdate engraved on it. I'd been searching for days last week without success, only to realize Mike had stolen it to butter up his mom. "Your bracelet is pretty unique, too." I smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in my eyes. "I remember this style of bracelet—there's only one in the whole world. It was a coming-of-age gift from my dad." Fiona Lewis instinctively hid her wrist behind her back, but her tone sharpened, "Stop spouting nonsense! My husband bought this for me! Viola Scott, it looks like you're so desperate for money that you want to steal things from our family!" I was just reaching for my cell phone to call Mike Lincoln—the latest custom model, engraved with the Scott family crest on the back, filled with photos of me and my parents skiing. It was my most treasured possession. Fiona Lewis suddenly rushed over, snatched the cell phone, and slammed it onto the ground. With a sharp crack, the phone screen shattered into a spiderweb. Still not satisfied, she pressed the tips of her high heels onto it twice, sending shards of glass splintering onto my ankle, cutting a streak of blood. "Still trying to contact Mike? I'll make sure you never reach him again!" She leaned in close, her breath heavy with a sharp perfume scent. "Mike's about to marry into the Scott family fortune! If you dare get in his way, I'll send you off as a servant somewhere far from home, and you'll never come back for the rest of your life!" I almost burst out laughing when I heard the words "the Scott family"—my dad, Harry Scott, is the so-called "richest Scott," but my parents have always kept a low profile, never appearing in the media, and even the company's shares are held in a trust. Outsiders only know "the Scott family is wealthy," but they have no idea who we really are. "The Scott family?" I pretended to be surprised. "Are you sure Mike is going to marry into the Scott family? How come I haven't heard anything about it?" Fiona Lewis thought I was intimidated and smugly lifted her chin. "Of course you haven't heard—how would a top-tier family like the Scotts let outsiders know about an arranged marriage? Mike is our pride and joy—he'll be part of the Scotts one day. You're not even on the same level as him!"