BTCG 04

Chapter 4…

“Once you’ve checked into the hotel, you can head straight to the International FIC Forum. The owner of the investment company will also be attending. It would be good to build some personal rapport before we move on to securing investments in the U.S.”

Even in the car from the airport to the hotel, the man was listening to his secretary general report on the itinerary for his stay in America.

I couldn’t tell whether this was supposed to be a honeymoon or a business trip.
Well, technically it wasn’t really a honeymoon anyway, since I wasn’t his real bride — and honestly, I was thrilled not to actually be with him. Still, I couldn’t help thinking how miserable it would’ve been for my sister if she’d had to spend her once-in-a-lifetime honeymoon with a man like this.

“You can handle the hotel check-in on your own, right?”

He asked curtly without even glancing at me. Before I could confirm whether he was actually talking to me, he turned his attention back to his secretary.

“Drop us off at the hotel and then head straight to the forum venue. I’ll need to meet the owner of the financial investment firm before the event starts.”

I felt like an unwanted nuisance getting in the way of their business talk. The secretary in the passenger seat turned his head toward me and said hesitantly,

“Still, sir, since this is technically a honeymoon, wouldn’t it look strange if you didn’t at least check in together? There might be paparazzi, you know.”

“No! I can check in by myself. You did book two rooms, right?”

I definitely didn’t want to pretend we were checking in as a couple. My mother had told me I could just do my own thing while on this “trip,” so once we each went about our business in New York, that would be the end of it.

The man didn’t answer, just kept scrolling through his tablet, while the secretary looked awkwardly between us, unsure how to respond.

Don’t tell me they expect me to share a room with this guy? He should be bowing in gratitude that I even agreed to come along on this fake honeymoon. If he dares push it any further, I’ll blast everything to the media.

“I’ll take the reserved room. You can sort out your own accommodations however you like.”

I said that while looking out the window, watching the streets of New York pass by indifferently. As the car entered the parking lot of a large hotel, I picked up my small bag.

Since I’d been practically dragged onto this so-called honeymoon, I had only a single shoulder bag with me — the same one I’d packed that morning just to meet my friend Hyun-ah.

That’s when it hit me: I didn’t even have a change of underwear. I’d need to buy everything — clothes, toiletries, even basics. And to make things worse, I suddenly remembered my mother taking my wallet from my bag at the wedding. She’d said she didn’t want my ID inside it to give away my identity, so she’d confiscated the whole thing.

I was broke. Completely broke. No cash, no credit cards — nothing. I was basically a beggar in New York.

It was impossible to survive a week in a foreign country with no money. Sure, I could hole up in the hotel and live off room service without spending a cent of my own, but being trapped in a room in the so-called city of style and freedom would be pathetic.

I shot a sharp look at the workaholic sitting next to me. This was all his fault. Thanks to him, my day had gone from bad to worse, and my irritation meter was off the charts. I held out my palm toward him.

“Give me money.”

He didn’t even lift his head, just moved his eyes slightly from his tablet to my outstretched hand.

“I don’t have a single dollar, okay? My wallet’s gone. I got dragged to the wedding out of nowhere, so I didn’t even have time to pack a suitcase. I’ve got a ton of things to buy, so give me money.”

The man sighed and motioned to his secretary, who immediately understood. His expression said, She’s noisy—just give her something and get rid of her. The secretary handed me a sleek, silver credit card that gleamed under the light.

Oh. A platinum card. The kind reserved for ultra-exclusive members with no spending limit.

The hotel room they’d booked was the most expensive suite in New York — a sprawling space with a separate living room and study, plus a terrace complete with a jacuzzi and private pool. It was outrageously large and luxurious for one person.

“Well, it’s not like I’m paying for it anyway. Considering what I’m putting up with, I deserve this much luxury. I’ll order the most expensive room service they’ve got and make sure he’s speechless when he sees the bill!”

The bedroom was furnished with antique furniture straight out of an 18th-century European palace. Since they’d probably told the hotel it was a honeymoon, a sheer canopy hung elegantly around the bed, and rose petals were scattered all over the white sheets.

“Tch. What’s with all these petals?”

After giving the room a quick once-over, I grabbed my bag and headed out to buy what I needed.

The streets of New York were dazzling — lined with world-famous luxury brands, each store bigger than the last. But honestly? None of them appealed to me. I couldn’t even be bothered to step inside.

Then I spotted a huge shopping mall and wandered in naturally. It was packed with Chinese tourists moving in noisy groups. I squeezed through the crowd and picked up a few essentials:

Underwear, socks, sleepwear, a few casual outfits, and of course, sneakers for exploring the city.

As for payment? Obviously, I used the card he’d given me.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, even for a moment. What if I splurged on a few-thousand-dollar designer dresses? It would serve that cold-hearted man right. But I quickly dismissed the idea.

Spending thousands of dollars on a single outfit was something I just couldn’t do. In my mind, that money could pay for heating fuel for elderly people who couldn’t afford to turn on their boilers in winter — or a year’s tuition for a talented student who couldn’t otherwise afford to study.

After finishing my shopping, I walked briskly with the locals until I found myself at the entrance of New York’s most famous park.

A memory flashed through my mind — a few years ago, I’d come here with my sister. Back then, we’d strolled through this park, the same one that appeared in countless Hollywood romances, giggling about how maybe we’d meet our destined partners here too.

How naïve we were.

I smiled faintly at the thought and was about to walk past the park gate when something made me stop — a small booth.

<“With the cost of your meal, you can give life-saving medicine to a malnourished child in Africa.”>

The booth was run by an African immigrant group collecting donations to help children suffering back home. And on the table were photographs — haunting images of skeletal children with hollow eyes.

My feet froze.

But then reality hit again — I didn’t have a single dollar in cash.

“Excuse me, I don’t have any cash. Do you accept cards?”

“Yes, of course!”

Oh, what a relief!

If they hadn’t accepted cards, I would’ve been wracked with guilt for the rest of my stay.

“How much would you like to donate? Any amount is fine.”

I smiled slyly and pulled out his card. What a perfect opportunity for payback!

He’d probably assumed I’d use the card for mindless luxury shopping like other spoiled heiresses. Well, it was time to flip the script completely.

“I’ll make the donation under his name. He can do one good deed thanks to me.”

I proudly handed over the unlimited platinum card.

“I’d like to donate two hundred thousand dollars.”

The dark-skinned man with the kind smile froze, eyes wide. Then, in true American fashion, he threw his hands up in shock.

“What? Two hundred thousand dollars? Not twenty?”

“Yes, two hundred thousand.”

He blinked in disbelief. I delivered the final blow with a satisfied smile.

“And please list the donor under the name on that card. He asked me to make the donation on his behalf.”

Watching the stunned volunteer swipe the card, I couldn’t help but grin.
Just imagining the man’s face when he saw next month’s statement made me feel gloriously vindicated.