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The Boy She Bought for Twenty Thousand
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
Ten years ago, Kayla Vance was fighting with her ex on the street when she kicked over the egg stall I had set up along the curb. "I could marry any poor kid selling eggs on the roadside and still be ...
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第1章
1: 1
Ten years ago, Kayla Vance was fighting with her ex on the street when she kicked over the egg stall I had set up along the curb.
"I could marry any poor kid selling eggs on the roadside and still be a hundred times better off than with you!"
Right there she pulled out a bank card and slapped it down on my stall board. "Twenty thousand. Be my boyfriend."
And just like that, I went from the poor kid selling eggs to the boyfriend of Kayla Vance, high-society heiress.
For ten years everyone called me "the egg boy she bought for twenty grand."
I clawed my way through an online degree earned through self-study, worked project after project, got up at four every morning to drill English, all so that one day I could stand at Kayla's side with my head held high.
On the tenth anniversary of that day, Wilfred Swanson came back from abroad and put together a gathering.
A few rounds of drinks in, he pulled two thousand dollars out of his bag and threw it down at my feet, grinning.
"Twenty grand back then, and now you're not even worth two thousand, are you? This is to wipe my shoes clean."
The whole room roared with laughter.
I looked up at Kayla. She held her glass, the corner of her mouth curving.
"He's been spoiled all these years. He wouldn't stoop to two thousand anymore."
As she spoke she slid a card out of her pocket and tossed it out.
"Take this card, go wipe his shoes for him. Charge whatever you want."
I watched the card slide down slowly and land against the toe of my shoe, and all at once I saw exactly where I had stood these ten years.
...
"Nathaniel Stewart, don't just stand there. The money's yours already."
Wilfred sat with one leg crossed over the other, the tip of his shoe tapping the back of my hand.
Two thousand dollars lay scattered across the carpet, a wide spread of red and pink.
"Wilfred tells you to wipe them, so wipe them. It's not like you've never done it."
"Back when you sold eggs at the night market you crouched by the curb too. You know the drill."
Laughter flooded the whole room.
I stood under the crystal chandelier still holding the fruit plate, wearing a shirt I'd bought new for the first time today, having practiced my smile three times in front of the mirror before leaving.
I'd told myself this was Kayla's gathering, that I had to hold steady, had to be worthy of standing beside her.
Ten years. Hadn't I gritted through all of it so that one day, when I stood next to her, no one would say that line anymore, "bought for twenty grand"?
And in the end, in everyone's eyes, all I had done was turn twenty thousand into more twenties thousand.
I spoke, keeping my voice as level as I could. "I won't."
Wilfred raised an eyebrow and turned to Kayla.
"Kayla, your pretty little boy's grown a temper."
Kayla sat dead center on the sofa and gave me one look, the exact same look she'd had at the night market ten years ago.
From above, careless.
"Then give him something else to do," she said. "Have him mix me a drink."
My fingers curled into my palm.
Ten years. I knew she loved her liquor, so I'd learned it for her.
That first year I couldn't even tell vodka from whiskey, crawling out of bed in the middle of the night to page through cocktail books, my fingers frostbitten by ice more times than I could count.
But every time I brought a drink over, her first words were always the same. "How much? What do you want now?"
She always thought I was fishing for a reward.
Wilfred clapped and laughed. "Not bad! Mixing drinks! Looks like it really is worth more than two grand!"
He jerked his chin toward the bar. "So mix an eggnog, huh? That's your specialty. Egg boy and an egg drink. Perfect match."
Kayla spoke up. "Wilfred."
His grin faded a little. "What, feeling sorry for him?"
"Leave the eggs out of it."
Kayla set down her glass and leaned forward. "He stopped selling eggs a long time ago."
My heart stuttered hard.
Then came her next line. "Mixing drinks pays a lot better than selling eggs now, right?"
The room went quiet for a second.
Someone laughed first, and then it spread into one wave.
Wilfred doubled over laughing, poking her arm with a finger. "Kayla, you're vicious!"
I stood frozen where I was, the laughter surging in from every side, rising to my chest, pouring down my throat.
She lifted her glass and took another sip, not even raising her eyes.
"Aren't you the one who loves mixing drinks? What, not enough? How many more twenties thousand do you want? Just say it. When have I, Kayla Vance, ever shorted you?"
Watching the curve of her throat as she tipped her head back to drink, I suddenly understood—
every dawn I'd gritted through, every wound that cracked open in the cold, every jeer I'd swallowed, all of it, in her eyes, could be converted into a price.
I let out a small laugh.
Then I grabbed my bag, turned, and pushed the door open.
Behind me someone scoffed. "Oh, he really did storm off in a huff?"
"Who's he acting all high and mighty for? Didn't he come running back himself for twenty grand back then?"
"Miss Vance, aren't you going to do something? Your man ran off."
She said nothing. I heard the sound of the glass being set back down on the coffee table.
I didn't look back. I didn't stop until I reached the elevator, where I leaned my back against the doors and tipped my head up, the tears sliding slowly into my hair.
Kayla really believed I'd learned to mix drinks for the money.
第2章
2: 2
Once I got in the cab, my dad sent a voice message, breathing hard.
"Nathaniel, when's Kayla coming to see me? It's been almost two months now... Did you two have a fight?"
I sat in the back seat, the screen glow washing over my face.
My dad had always thought that twenty thousand was a dowry.
Ten years ago, when Kayla brought me home, he was so happy he wiped away tears, saying I was blessed to have found someone who truly loved me.
I told him it wasn't like that.
He didn't believe me. Year after year he asked, year after year he hoped, and now with the cancer already spread to his lungs he was still saying, "When's Kayla coming?"
I typed: 【Soon, in the next few days.】
After I sent it, I flipped the phone face-down on my knee and pressed my forehead against the cold window.
The cab stopped outside the house. I pushed the door open and went in. The living room lights were on.
Kayla was sitting on the sofa, the top two buttons of her blouse undone.
Wilfred was curled up at the other end, her jacket draped over him.
"You're back?"
She lifted her eyelids a fraction. "Go make Wilfred some hangover soup. And go out and buy stomach medicine."
I stood there without moving. "...My dad asked when you're coming to see him."
Her hand paused. She rubbed her temple. "We'll see. The project's got me swamped."
"He's having surgery next week."
"Tomorrow, then."
She set the empty cup on the coffee table. "Make the hangover soup first."
I still had the rain all over me, hair stuck to my face, one shoulder of my jacket soaked through.
She didn't look at me once the whole time, as if I were no different from the rain outside, not worth a moment of her attention.
I turned and went into the kitchen.
The next morning at the office, three months of proposal materials sat on my desk.
My assistant's face was white. "Nathaniel, the client pulled the contract."
"They sent the email at eleven last night. Said they're terminating, and they'll pay the penalty in full."
I stared at the termination letter on the screen, my temple pounding.
Three months. I'd burned through more than thirty versions of that proposal, revised the data more times than I could count, and it was all for nothing.
"The contract was already signed. Who's the person in charge on their end—"
"That would be me. Something you don't like?"
The elevator doors opened, and Wilfred walked in on a pair of gleaming polished shoes, two assistants trailing behind him.
"Wilfred, this proposal was built from start to finish around the client's requirements. The concept, the data, every item cleared three rounds of review, and the contract is already in effect. On what grounds are you pulling it?"
He let out a laugh and tilted his head, sizing me up.
"On the grounds that I'm the Swanson heir, and you're some kept man bought for twenty thousand. On the grounds that the client company is also a Swanson company, and you're nothing but the manager of some little firm."
"With your standing, you're not even fit to question me."
I gripped the materials in my hand, nails digging into the pages.
He stepped closer and leaned in by my ear.
"And do you know why Kayla picked you back then? Because you were standing by the roadside selling eggs. The cheapest, the most pathetic, the easiest to make another man jealous."
"So the fact that you've gotten this far, some of the credit's mine too. Wouldn't you say you owe me a thank-you?"
My pupils shrank.
He drew back, took the iced Americano from his assistant, and drank from it, unhurried.
"Want to bet that one phone call from me makes everything you've saved up over these ten years disappear overnight?"
Then he poured half the coffee down over my head.
Cold, the coffee running from my hair down my shoulder, seeping into my collar.
"Redo the proposal until I'm satisfied."
I stood there and watched him turn and walk toward the elevator.
Someone poked their head out from the break room. People started talking.
I stood soaked through beside my desk, my fingers still gripping that stack of scrapped proposals.
At seven that evening, Kayla and I had agreed to go to the hospital to see my dad.
I changed into dry clothes and waited at the door for an hour. My phone buzzed.
【Going to the racetrack with Wilfred and the others tonight. Push it to tomorrow.】
【By the way, did you get into it with Wilfred this morning? Why do you have to butt heads with him? Look at what he is and what you are. It's just one proposal. You redo a version and it's done, isn't it?】
A few seconds later another one popped up:
【If it weren't for us back then, you'd still be counting eggs at the night market.】
I sat there stunned for a long time.
第3章
3: 3
My phone rang. My father's voice came through, wheezing.
"Nathaniel... have you two come yet? The nurse said the shadow in my lung got bigger today. I just can't stop worrying about you two..."
I was standing at the foot of the office tower, rain slanting in, striking the screen of my phone.
"...She'll come tomorrow."
There was a silence on his end, then two coughs.
"Nathaniel, let me ask you one more time. That twenty thousand... it really was a dowry, wasn't it?"
I gripped the phone, my nails digging into my palm.
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something.
He cut me off, his voice very soft. "Your dad knows."
The line went dead.
My social feed refreshed. Wilfred had posted a photo.
Trackside, Kayla leaned against a sports car holding a helmet, and Wilfred sat in the passenger seat flashing a V at the camera.
The caption: 【Racing against a certain someone. No matter what, I can't beat her!】
Hundreds of likes underneath, people egging him on.
【Ms. Vance let you win on purpose! Everyone knows she's taken prizes for racing!】
【The boyfriend's so handsome!】
I swiped the screen away and lifted my head. The rain hit my face, as cold as the iced Americano this morning.
Kayla was right.
Ten years ago I really was selling eggs. My mother had died and my father was gravely ill, and I was eighteen. I had to make money.
She spent twenty thousand and bought ten years of me, dragged me out of that leaking shack,
gave me a place to live, a chance at school, and a way to cover my father's surgery.
She really had saved me from the pit, which is why I clawed my way up so desperately, why I fought so hard to stand at her side.
I wanted to be worthy of the light she'd given me. I wanted her, when she looked back at me, to feel no regret over choosing me.
But in her eyes, I had never once stood up.
I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling faintly, and then the tears wouldn't stop.
I stood in the rain for almost forty minutes.
I looked down at my own face in a puddle, rainwater mixed with the mess of me, my lips drained of color.
Ten years ago, crouched at the roadside of the night market, I'd been just this ragged.
The difference was that back then I'd had loose change gripped in my hand, my mind on buying my father a bowl of hot dumpling soup.
Now I had seven figures in my bank account, and I was standing at the foot of the tallest office tower downtown.
But I felt just as wretched as I had ten years ago.
I turned and went back into the office, sat down at my desk, opened my laptop, and spread the killed proposal out again.
I kept typing until three in the morning. I redid eight versions, reworking every single place Wilfred could possibly nitpick.
My phone buzzed. I picked it up.
Kayla: 【Why aren't you back yet?】
I stared at those words, thrown for a moment.
Ten years, and every time it was me waiting at home, waiting at the door, waiting at the restaurant. She never once asked about anything of mine.
This was the first time she'd ever asked me. I gripped the phone, typing:
【At the office reworking the proposal. Just finished, coming right—】
Before I could finish, the next message popped up:
【Wilfred says his stomach's upset. Pick up a bowl of hangover soup on your way, and the seafood chowder from that porridge place on the south side.】
I stared at those two lines, and suddenly I laughed.
I laughed until the tears rolled down, ran into my mouth, bitter and salty.
Nathaniel, what exactly are you still hoping for?
I pressed the screen dark and didn't reply.
The rain stopped. The edge of the sky turned a gray blue.
I saved the new proposal and sent it to their inbox.
Then I opened the HR system.
【Transfer to a branch office, term of one year, handover can be completed within a week.】
The cursor hovered over "Submit."
I looked at it for a long time.
I thought of that night ten years ago, when I crouched on the ground and looked up to see Kayla holding a bank card between her fingers, saying down at me, "Be my boyfriend."
I'd thought fate had finally decided to cut me a break.
I clicked the left button. A window popped up: 【Submitted, pending approval.】
Outside the window, the city was slowly waking.
And I had finally decided: I would never again live as the thing someone bought for twenty thousand.
第4章
4: 4
My new proposal had been picked back up, and the partnership was moving along smoothly.
The celebration dinner was held in the banquet hall, the big screen behind us cycling through this quarter's project results and team photos.
I stood on the stage with the microphone, white suit, everything about me sharp and straight.
"Thanks to the team. This proposal got off the ground because of all of you. This one's to everyone."
The applause was still going when the screen behind me buzzed.
The slides had switched.
A yellowed photo.
A night market, a plastic tent, a boy with short-cropped hair crouched beside a basket of eggs.
His school uniform washed pale, his fingers red with cold, head down as he counted out a customer's change.
In the lower right corner, a line of small watermark text: 【The one bought for twenty thousand.】
The banquet hall went quiet.
Some turned to look at the screen. Some looked at me.
Wilfred stepped out of the crowd, a glass of red wine in hand, grinning wide.
"Surprise! The planning department slipped in a little gratitude segment. 'Thanks to the person who helped me most.'"
He turned to face the room. "Let me make a proper introduction. This is Mr. Nathaniel Stewart. Ten years ago, Kayla brought him back from a night market for twenty thousand. Without her, there'd be no him today. So the person who helped you most has to be Kayla, doesn't it?"
"That's why we picked this particular photo tonight. To thank Kayla, and to thank Nathaniel himself—"
He paused, then added, "After all, not everyone's lucky enough to get bought for twenty thousand. Right?"
The room stayed silent, then the murmurs started.
"So it really was true... I thought it was just a rumor."
"I'd heard before that Ms. Vance was keeping him on her dime. Didn't think they'd actually air it out in public."
"No wonder he made it from little assistant to director. Turns out that's the kind of skill that got him up there."
Somewhere in the corner, someone laughed.
It was Kayla.
She leaned against the bar, a smile at the corner of her mouth, her eyes crossing the crowd to land on me.
Wilfred walked over and hooked his arm through hers. "Kayla, go up and say a few words. This is your masterpiece, after all."
He tugged her up onto the stage. She dipped her head with a small laugh as she took the microphone.
Then she looked up at me.
I stood under the spotlight, the white suit washed pale in the glare, my face just as pale.
"Twenty thousand ten years ago. Still twenty thousand now, I'd say."
Her voice wasn't loud, but under the chandelier everyone heard it.
"I'll pay twenty thousand. Buy a smile from you."
"It's a celebration dinner. Why aren't you smiling? Come on. Give me a smile."
The room erupted.
I stared at her and didn't move.
She frowned.
"You want me to keep going? You want two hundred thousand, fine."
I drew a bank card from my suit pocket and held it out to her between my fingers.
"On this card is every dollar you've spent on me these ten years."
"Tuition, living expenses, clothes, skincare. And back then—"
I paused.
"That twenty thousand. All of it's here, not a cent short. I calculated the interest at the bank's fixed rate. Anything extra, call it my gift to you."
The banquet hall went completely still.
I set the card on the tabletop and pushed it forward.
"The egg-selling boy you bought for twenty thousand ten years ago, I'm officially giving him back to you today."
"He doesn't want it anymore."
"Kayla Vance, from today on you don't owe me, and I don't owe you."