Met My Man When I Was Broke

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

“Ms. Estella, you can use this room as your own. If you need anything, just call me,” said Annie, the mayor-doma of Damian’s house.

“Thank you, Annie,” I said softly. The door shut behind her, and I was left alone in my new room.

Silence. For the first time today.

I turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The room was bigger than my entire burned-down townhouse. The color scheme was calm—beige and ivory tones, spotless curtains, soft lighting. Everything looked like it belonged in a lifestyle magazine.

It was too clean. Too peaceful. Like it had never known chaos.

Unlike me.

Damian Lockster. The name alone came with its own brand of perfection. Billionaire by thirty, business tycoon, public enigma. But to me, he was something else entirely.

My childhood friend.

We met in the orphanage after my parents died in a car crash. I was seven. One moment I had a family, the next—I was just another case to file. My relatives took the money, the properties, and left me behind. An extra mouth. An inconvenience.

Meanwhile, Damian was always the golden child. Even in the orphanage, he was the one everyone adored. He got the best clothes, the most visitors. Eventually, he was adopted by a wealthy couple, and I stayed behind. Watching.

Now look at him. Penthouse king. CEO. Rescuer of poor, homeless me.

And still... somehow, I hated how calm he was while everything I owned turned to ash.

I thought we’d never see each other again.

He’s so damn rich now—living in a different world than me.

But somehow, we crossed paths last year… right where it all started. The same orphanage we both came from.

And ever since, I don’t know why, but every bad thing that’s happened in my life, he’s been there.

Like today—my house burned to ash, and just like that, he appears out of nowhere.

I was shocked when he suddenly offered me a marriage—but it wasn’t a real one.

It was a marriage of convenience.

He said he wanted a wife he could show off to the media, and to impress his father, who always got annoyed by his blind dates.

That’s why he chose me.

But for me, marriage isn’t some game to be used in his schemes or whatever reason he has.

I wandered over to the cabinet to see if there were any clothes I could wear, since Damian and I were going to have dinner and talk.

To my surprise, there were plenty of dresses that seemed like they were meant for me. I figured Damian must be quite the playboy to have a collection of women’s clothes.

I picked out a comfortable blue knitted cardigan and a pair of shorts.

After a quick bath, I applied some powder and lip tint to make myself look less pale.

After an hour, I went downstairs and found him sitting at the table, which was loaded with food.

“Is there a fiesta or something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled.

“Do we need a fiesta just to eat?” he replied, tossing the question back to me.

Well, he had a point. With his money, food on the table was never a problem.

“Nah, don’t mind me. I was just shocked. But anyway, I’m starving,” I said, sliding into the seat beside him. He sat like a king, calm and in control.

I started eating, but I could sense him watching me. He was quiet, calm. He ate so gracefully—every movement deliberate, elegant.

So different from how we used to be back in the orphanage.

Now… he seemed so well-mannered. And—ugh—hot.

Hot?

I shook my head, catching myself. No. Nope. I was not going there.

“Problem?” he asked, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Hot—” I blurted out, then froze, realizing what I just said.

His brow lifted, amused.

“I mean… the food! The food is hot!” I quickly added, pretending to blow on my spoon.

Smooth, Estella. Real smooth.

He didn’t react. Not even a twitch of his perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Great. Either he didn’t care, or he was too polite to call me out on my embarrassing slip.

That’s right—just ignore it, Estella. Let’s pretend I didn’t just call my childhood friend-turned-billionaire boss hot over dinner like a lovestruck i***t.

I focused on my food, trying not to look in his direction. But of course, my eyes had a mind of their own.

And there he was—calm, composed, like this whole dinner wasn’t the weirdest thing to ever happen in my chaotic life.

“So, are you going to accept my proposal now?” he asked again, his voice calm but persistent.

“My answer is still no,” I replied firmly, not even looking at him.

I only came with him because, truth be told, he’s the only person I can lean on right now. I have no one else. No friends. No family. Just this... weird, infuriating man who keeps showing up when my life falls apart.

“Don’t worry,” I added, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll find a new apartment or some place I can afford.”

“You can stay here,” he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair like this was all just casual conversation. “But how can I pursue you to marry me if you’re not around?”

Ugh. This man is so damn persistent.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Because marriage isn’t a game, Damian. It’s not something you use as part of some scheme to get the media off your back or impress your father.”

“But why me?” I asked, taking a sip of wine. “You could chase after any woman—plenty would say yes to your little act.”

Damian didn’t even blink. “Because you’re different. You don’t like me. Not as a man.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “That’s your reason?”

He shrugged, cool as ever. “Every woman I’ve dated was a gold digger. They didn’t want me—they wanted my money.”

I let out a short laugh, half-bitter, half-teasing. “And what, you think I’m better? If I say yes, you don’t think I’ll use the opportunity to make money off you?” I met his eyes, challenging.

“Come on, Damian. I’m broke. Of course I’ll use you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared—calm, unreadable.

I scoffed. “See? No comeback. I'm no different from the rest.”

Then he said it. Soft, certain. “Then use me.”

I nearly choked, almost spitting out my wine. “You must be insane!” I hissed, wiping my mouth.

He laughed—deep, amused, the sound echoing in the elegant dining room. “Maybe I am. But if being crazy means getting you to say yes, then I don’t mind.”

For a moment, I paused. A stupid part of me thought—does he like me?

No. Get a grip, Estella. Don’t imagine things that aren’t real.

“But it’s still a no. I won’t marry you,” I said firmly, reaching for my glass again.

He just looked at me—like I was something... unfamiliar. Like I was the twist in a story he thought he’d already read.