**A Test of Greed**
“So, you’ve decided to test Laura, then?” Mark’s friend asked with a smirk. “Good. Better safe than sorry—last thing you need is another gold-digger who cares more about the zeros in your bank account than you.”
“Don’t remind me,” Mark grimaced. His last lady had been exactly that type, bleeding him dry before he finally saw sense and cut her loose. “Laura seems different, down-to-earth, not the type to chase fantasies. But better to be sure. If she passes, she gets the grandest wedding and a life of luxury—designer boutiques, spa days, exotic holidays.”
Mark had thought of everything. He rented a dingy flat (a proper hovel, in his eyes), hired a shabby old car he couldn’t stand to look at, and bought clothes straight off the high street. He aimed to blend in, to seem utterly ordinary. Laura either didn’t notice the slip-ups or pretended not to.
“Laura thinks I’m just a junior manager, scraping together a deposit for a mortgage,” he said, and both men laughed. Mark could buy a penthouse in Mayfair tomorrow if he fancied. Ah, the perks of wealthy parents. “Oh, and she believes I’m an orphan.”
“Creative, I’ll give you that. How haven’t you slipped up? You’ve no clue how normal folk live! Private schools, chauffeurs, servants since you were knee-high…”
“I hired a bloke from security as an advisor. For a few quid, he schooled me in ‘ordinary life’.” Mark glanced at his watch and stood. “Right, time to change and fetch Laura. Promised to meet her after lectures. Might stop at some greasy spoon on the way.”
“Try not to keel over,” his friend chuckled. “That sort of grub isn’t exactly your usual fare.”
**********
Mark waited impatiently, clutching the cheapest bouquet from the kiosk. To him, the price was loose change—less than he’d drop on coffee. But the part demanded frugality, so he endured the shopkeeper’s disdain without comment.
Then Laura appeared—pale as chalk, eyes distant, on the verge of tears.
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked urgently. Had someone hurt her? “Laura, love, what is it?”
She crumpled into sobs against him. Then he remembered: her father’s illness. Had it worsened?
“Is it your dad?” A shaky nod. “Come on, let’s talk over tea.”
At the café, Laura explained. Her father needed surgery—routine, but risky at his age. The consultant had been blunt: a “donation” would improve his odds.
“Ten thousand! Ten!” Her voice broke. Mark hid a smirk; he’d drop that on dinner without blinking. “We don’t have that kind of money—it’s all gone on meds!”
“I’d help, but I can’t touch my savings without penalties,” Mark lied, feigning sorrow. “Are you sure paying’s the right move?”
“Of course! His life’s worth more than money!”
“Think, though,” he pressed. “If you pay now, they’ll bleed you dry later. Report it! Don’t let them profit from suffering.”
“We’ve no proof, and Dad might not make it!”
Laura realised then: no help would come. Not that she’d expected any—she’d no right to ask. And she *knew* he was lying. She’d seen the wads of cash in his wallet.
Very well. One option remained. She’d drop out of uni, work full-time. Never mind that she was top of her class, nearing graduation.
Family came first.
**********
Three weeks later.
Laura was radiant. Her father was recovering; she’d landed decent work. She’d finish her degree—later, but she *would*.
Then Mark texted: *I’ve a surprise for you.*
Her good mood shattered an hour later.
“You passed the test.” Mark stood there in Savile Row tailoring, a Rolex gleaming at his wrist, behind him a car that made passerby gawk. “Now I know you’re not after my money. Marry me.”
No kneel, but the velvet box was there. Laura’s rage simmered as sunlight danced off the gaudy diamond.
“This ring’s worth fifty grand,” he boasted. “You deserve it. We’ll have the wedding of the century—you’ll want for nothing…”
A sharp slap cut him off. Laura trembled. How *dared* he? That ring was five times what would’ve saved her father! If he’d been honest earlier, she’d still be at uni!
“What the—?” Mark gaped. He’d expected squeals, hugs—not a stinging cheek.
“Take your ring,” she hissed, “and sod off.”
She never spoke to him again.
