The Prince Pretends to Be Poor for Love1
My boyfriend, Jonathan Davis, who I had been in love with for five years, had stomach cancer.
In order to pay for Jonathan's treatment, I sold the house my mother left me and worked three jobs on my own.
I heard Jonathan talking to someone about me while I was working part-time job at the bar. “Vivian is just a toy for me when I'm bored, and I give her hope and push her into the abyss. Isn't that fun?”
I didn't cry, complain, or rush in to ask him, and I packed my things and took a plane back to my hometown.
I was told that Jonathan, the young master in Hampton, who cried and searched the whole of Hampton afterwards, could not find me.
The second before I pushed open the door to the private room, I was still secretly delighted that I would get a tip of several hundred dollars for this order.
As a result, I was suddenly stunned when I saw Jonathan surrounded by several rich men in the center of the booth.
At that moment, Jonathan was dressed in a suit and exuded an innate nobility.
He was nothing like the poor boyfriend who was pestering me to sleep with me before.