The Girl Who I Sponsored for Three Years Replaced My Identity1
For three years, I had been supporting a girl in all means, covering all her education and living expenses. But now, she’s flaunting designer brands and parades around in expensive heels, all while holding hands with my utterly useless boyfriend. She had the nerve to mock me. When she called me “unwanted and worthless,” I immediately cut off her financial support. The very next day, she was at my doorstep, begging for forgiveness.
——
“Uncle…”
She appeared again, the same girl who had tried to buy me off just the day before. But now, she was on her knees, clutching my leg, pleading desperately.
Never had she imagined that she would ever surrender to my dare to “say uncle”. Life sure has a twisted sense of humor. But let me take you back a few years to where this all began.
One day, feeling bored and idly surfing the internet, I stumbled upon a funding website filled with profiles of many students in need.
With some extra cash on hand and a whim in my heart, I decided to support one of them—a girl whose name caught my attention. Each month, I sent her a steady 1,370 dollars.
The organization kept me updated on her progress, and she seemed to be doing exceptionally well. By the time she took her college entrance exams, I was already a sophomore. When I heard she passed with flying colors, I sent her a little extra cash as a reward.
In my freshman year, I joined a board game club and met Simon Charles, the guy who would become my boyfriend. We spent a year together, enjoying the simple things. I never told him about my family's wealth—my mother often reminded me to keep a low profile when I was out and about, so I never revealed my true financial situation to anyone. He believed I was just an ordinary girl from the city. In reality, my family owns a significant portion of this city, and my father's money funded much of this private university.
When it was time for the freshmen to arrive, Simon asked me to help out at the welcome event. But I had strained my back playing golf the day before and decided to rest instead.
Simon, as the club president, spent the day helping new members move in and organizing the event. When I finally made it to the club the next day, there were plenty of new faces.
“Nikki, my cute little kitten!”
Every time Simon called me that, I couldn’t help but cringe.