After Going Bankrupt, I Was Spoiled by My Former Canary

Back in college, I was a good-for-nothing, keeping a mistress like some spoiled heir.

To force her compliance, I held her beloved grandmother hostage—not literally, but financially.

I gripped the lifeline of a poor girl's entire world.

But before graduation ever came, my family went bankrupt first.

I tried to see her one last time.

All I got was her voice through the phone—sharp, disgusted.

"You're disgusting."

Years later, she resurfaced as a rising star in the business world.

And me? I was just a nobody at the Manhattan AgriTech Institute.

She slapped a check across my face.

"Take one bill, strip one piece of clothing."

---

The next time we met was in the conference room for a funding pitch.

I lingered in the back of the team, eyes fixed on the dazzling figure at the head of the table—Olivia Hart, the latest darling of the financial world, our most critical potential investor.

I bit my tongue and served tea to the boardroom, nerves on edge.

Later, seeing my shirt faded nearly white from too many washes, I sighed in relief that she hadn't recognized me.

After all, our breakup had been ugly when my family collapsed.

And I looked nothing now like the man I used to be.

But that evening, during a dinner reception, my professor mentioned I graduated from the same university as the investors.

He insisted I attend.

The venue hadn't changed since my student days, still flashy, still pulsing with neon and smoke.

But to me, it felt like stepping into a different lifetime.

Through the haze, I saw her face—elegant, proud.

"I heard Ethan Blackwell joined the AgriTech team. Don't tell me you're thinking of getting back with him?"

Before Olivia could answer, someone jumped in.

"Please. Just seeing that scumbag makes her want to throw up. Who at this table didn't suffer under that trust fund brat back in college?"

Voices chimed in, mocking. Olivia didn't deny it.

My chest tightened. Whatever flicker of joy I'd felt seeing her again was drowned in bitterness.

This was a trap, and I had walked right in.

But these days, I couldn't afford to offend anyone. Not for research funding, not for survival.

I followed the others inside, only to be mistaken for a server, pouring drinks for people who used to fear me.

Only after Ryan introduced me did someone finally raise an eyebrow.

"Wait a minute... Ethan Blackwell? Damn, man, you were so quiet. I thought you were staff. No hard feelings, right?"

Ryan looked puzzled. "There must be some misunderstanding here..."

"Misunderstanding? Who would dare misunderstand Mr. Blackwell?"

That was the beginning of the humiliation.

I drank glass after glass on an empty stomach, hot liquor burning down my throat.

Later, shaking, I lit a cigarette at the alley's edge, trying to clear my head.

Back in college, I was ruthless. I got into Columbia thanks to my family's donations, had a pack of cronies who bullied classmates daily, and had made them do my assignments.

I saw Olivia back then, a pretty girl, no background, no money. I thought, "Someone's gonna take her eventually. Might as well be me."

I forced her into a relationship and threatened her with her grandmother's hospital bills.

I moved her out of the dorms and made her live with me. In exchange, I paid for everything—her tuition, her rent, and her food.

It wasn't love. It was possession.

I thought it would last. But right before graduation, it all crashed.

My father was arrested. My mother took her own life. I was left drowning in debt.

I called Olivia, hoping to see her one last time.

"You're disgusting," she spat and hung up.

The cigarette I held now was someone else's leftover, picked up from the street.

It burned down quickly, singeing my fingers.

These days, everything had to be rationed—except cigarettes. They were the only thing that numbed the pain.

I hesitated, then messaged Ryan, telling him I'd head back early.

But the alcohol had me dizzy. As I stood, I tripped on a rock and hit the pavement hard.

My limbs felt like jelly. I tried twice to get up and failed.

Then I saw boots step into my blurred vision.

A voice came from above, cold and sharp.

"Ethan Blackwell, you're still the same coward who only knows how to run."

Yeah, she was right.

For a single promise of investment in our institute, I followed her obediently into a hotel.

She sat in a chair, eyes scanning me from head to toe. Olivia Hart, disgusted to her core, was probably wondering how best to humiliate me.

Time dragged on. I could barely stand.

"I heard you and Lucas are together now. Congrats."

I'd heard the rumors. I always asked around, quietly.

They'd gone abroad together, started a business upon returning.

The childhood sweethearts I once tore apart had found their way back to each other.

That poor kid I used to mock—Lucas Reed—was no longer someone I could look down on.

"Ethan, that's none of your business," she said, lifting her eyes just briefly.

The look in her eyes brought a memory rushing back.

She used to cry silently when I ruined her part-time jobs, cornered her, and told her the same thing.

"That's not your concern," I used to say, before throwing money at her problems.

I had raised her like a kept bird.

And she had learned well.

She pulled out a wad of bills and tossed them at me.

I took it. I didn't dare flinch.

Her eyes dropped to my faded pants, then to the peeling soles of my canvas shoes.

"Take it off."

"What?" The alcohol dulled my hearing.

"Take one bill, strip one piece of clothing."