He Dumped Me For The Fake Heiress

I was here because of missed periods and abnormal bleeding—a suspected threatened miscarriage.

When asked about our relationship, my boyfriend didn't even look at me.

"We're just classmates," he told the nurse.

He thought he was cutting ties with a worthless nobody so he could chase after a billionaire's daughter.

What he didn't know was... I was the heiress he was desperately looking for.

......

Kaelen had looked visibly annoyed the entire way here.

I knew he didn't want to come, but hearing that denial still made my stomach drop.

Kaelen trailed half a step behind me, keeping his distance like we really were just casual acquaintances.

"The alumni association has a major networking mixer this afternoon." Kaelen's eyes were already fixed on the clinic's exit. "You go ahead with the tests."

"You're leaving?"

"Don't look at me like that, Sierra. This is my shot at a top-tier investment bank. I'm not like those trust-fund kids who can just coast; I have to hustle. You're a smart girl. Don't start being irrational now."

He made it sound so righteous.

I met his eyes. "And if I'm actually pregnant?"

Kaelen's jaw clenched hard.

In that split second, I didn't see worry or a sense of responsibility in his eyes.

I just saw cold calculation.

"Text me the second the results are out." He couldn't even be bothered to offer a fake word of comfort.

"Just go."

Looking completely relieved, he turned and strode toward the exit without giving me a second glance.

A dull ache pulsed in my lower abdomen. But compared to the physical pain, my mind felt sharper and clearer than it had in years.

Four years.

From freshman to senior year, we kept our relationship completely off the radar.

At first, we were both gunning for those ruthless 4.0 GPAs. We figured a public romance would be a distraction, so we agreed to keep it a secret.

But later, even after we both secured our scholarships—when I thought we could finally walk across the quad hand-in-hand—his excuse shifted: "People in these circles don't like guys who are tied down. Playing the single card is better for networking."

I backed down, step by step, until I was used to being the ghost behind his success. You couldn't find a single trace of a "girlfriend" anywhere on his social media.

Kaelen was wildly ambitious and striking enough to pull it off. He never lacked girls throwing themselves at him. I saw it all, yet all I could do was swallow my insecurity.

Three months ago, that so-called "networking" materialized into a specific person. Blair.

The reigning queen of the campus sororities.

She paraded around in massive designer logos, loudly bragging to anyone who would listen about her ties to the Vance family—Wall Street's ultimate financial dynasty.

She started targeting Kaelen at every public event. And Kaelen's attitude toward her morphed rapidly—from polite distance to shameless groveling.

My intuition blared like a five-alarm fire.

During one of our rare weekends alone together, I watched his phone screen light up for the dozenth time and finally pushed: "Aren't you getting a little too close to Blair lately?"

Kaelen exploded defensively. "You're being overly sensitive, Sierra! She can get me an internal referral! Do you know what upward mobility even means? Could you stop being so irrational and wasting your energy on pointless jealousy?"

Before long, campus gossip had practically fused their names together.

Intimate photos from frat parties. Pairing up for group projects. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder at cocktail mixers. Everyone was whispering that Kaelen had finally snagged his golden ticket into the Vance empire.

And I didn't even have the right to confront him. To the rest of the world, I was just a classmate. When your relationship is a secret, even jealousy feels pathetic and out of line.

Over time, the anxiety curdled into repression, and that repression eventually hardened into numbness.

Sitting in the clinic, I pulled out my phone to distract myself.

A quick scroll through my feed, and an Instagram story Blair had posted just two minutes ago popped up.

Red roses. Candlelight. Two champagne flutes clinking together intimately.

Only the man's wrist made it into the frame, but I recognized the watch immediately. And the silver cufflink right beside it—the one I had just bought for Kaelen last month.

The caption flashed across the screen in bold text: Right place, right people.

I'd been with Kaelen for four years.

The fanciest place we'd ever eaten at was a chain steakhouse the day he landed his first internship offer.

He'd always say: "Sierra, all that superficial pageantry is just capitalism feeding on idiots. We need to invest our money and energy into our future."

Turns out, he wasn't incapable of romance. He wasn't opposed to showing off his relationship, either.

He just didn't think I was worth it.

"Sierra?" The doctor emerged with a clipboard, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"You're not pregnant, so there's no sign of a miscarriage," the doctor said, handing me the paperwork. "But your cortisol levels are incredibly high. The extreme stress has caused an endocrine imbalance, which led to the missed periods and abnormal bleeding."

I heard myself let out a long, heavy exhale.

Walking out of the clinic, I headed straight back to my dorm.

But right outside my building, I froze.

Not ten yards away, Blair had her arms wrapped tightly around a man's neck. They were locked in a deep, shameless kiss right out in the open.

Even from just the silhouette of his back, I'd know him intimately anywhere.

It was Kaelen.

Kaelen wanted to climb the social ladder. He wanted a piece of the Vance family privilege.

What he didn't know was that I've been using my mother's last name since my parents divorced.

My birth name is Sierra Vance.

And I am the one and only legal heir to the patriarch of the Vance empire, Julian Vance.