Brady Leean Julia Facebook ad: “New book online! click here to read it first”

Running for 5 days since September 28, 2026. Crush last saw it on October 3, 2026.
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Derek Pembroke had dated a few women before me. Each relationship had cost him a fortune. By the time my turn came, he’d decided to try a different approach. No sports cars. No jewelry. On our dates, we ate tacos from food trucks on the side of the road. For my birthday, he gave me a bouquet of fake flowers from Temu that cost less than a sandwich. He also gave me a cheap, silver-plated necklace. Derek had laid out his terms. “This is all I can give you. If you can’t accept that, we break up.” So I never argued. I always took the gift and said thank you. Until the day I was admitted to the ER. The hospital’s estimate for my out-of-pocket costs was more than I made in three months. I gritted my teeth through the pain and called Derek to borrow the money. He was quiet for a moment. “So you’re pulling the fake illness card for money now, too?” The day before, he had given a friend a custom poker table that cost as much as a new car. After I was discharged, Derek looked me over, his body visibly relaxing. “Figures. It was nothing. Don’t try to test me like that again.” I finished confirming my flight to Denver before I looked up at him. I watched him for a quiet moment. “I won’t.” … I was carrying wine to the storage room when I passed the private lounge and heard my name. “Our trust-fund prince plays the part of some broke guy with baggage, and the girl actually falls for it. She still hasn’t asked him for a dime.” “You won the bet. So when are you dumping her? Don’t tell me you’re actually getting into it.” Derek made an impatient sound. “She’s too invested. It’s going to be messy. I need a clean exit.” I froze outside the door. The conversation inside quickly shifted from Derek to my birthday gift. Someone said, “You used to buy your girlfriends handbags and jewelry. A single one of those gifts cost more than a year’s rent.” “Now that you’re playing poor, you obviously can’t give her anything like that. She’d get suspicious.” “How about something cheap from the outlets? Cheap enough to let her know exactly what she’s worth.” Derek laughed. “Not bad. You pick it. Just don’t spend much.” Chase Langford objected. “No, no, no. You guys ever heard of Temu? The place is full of cheap junk. If you really want to sell the part, that’s where you shop.” “Look at this bouquet. Big enough, right? Costs less than a delivery order.” “And here’s a silver-plated necklace. The price of two drinks at your usual spot.” Chase slapped his thigh. “People actually put this crap on their bodies. She should be thanking you for the taste of luxury.” Derek took the phone. As if discovering discount sites for the first time, he scrolled with an almost scholarly focus. In the end, he actually agreed. “How do I order? Ship it to my place on Beacon Hill. You’re right. This is exactly the kind of gift a guy who’s been burned a few times would give.” The room erupted in laughter. Derek laughed with them, and in that light, the malice on his face was almost hidden. I had heard his stories about being swindled by ex-girlfriends many times. He was the heir to Pembroke Holdings. He’d had too much, too young, and had always been generous with his friends and girlfriends. He said he’d had bad luck. The women had all treated him like an ATM. The first had slept with his uncle. The second had used his credit card to bankroll her musician boyfriend. The third had pitched a startup, taken his investment, and disappeared to Europe. Derek’s friends always said those women had made him this way. That every time a woman got close, his first question was what she wanted from him. So with me, he counted every penny. I had never bothered to check if the stories were true. There was no need. Derek’s money was his own. Who he gave it to, and how he spent it, was his business. And really, who could a cheap necklace humiliate? I walked to the end of the hall, then glanced back once. The door to the private lounge was still ajar. The scent of expensive whiskey and the sound of laughter spilled through the crack. They were still brainstorming reasons for Derek to break up with me.On my birthday, I received the exact gifts Derek had picked out. A cheap bouquet of fake flowers and a silver-plated necklace. Derek had always believed that no woman was truly indifferent to money. Now he sat in a cab that reeked of stale smoke, frowning at the foul air. He asked, “Isn’t this birthday gift a little shabby?” I rolled down the window, letting the cool wind rush in. I turned to look at him. “No. The flowers are pretty. I put them in a glass bottle on my desk. They look even better at night when the lamp is on.” I don’t know what he was thinking, but I genuinely loved moments like that. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and slacks, squeezed beside me in this foul-smelling cab. For a moment, the wall of money between us seemed to crumble. He was no longer the Pembroke heir. I didn’t have to look up at him from below. Derek cleared his throat, looking oddly uncomfortable. “Really? I thought you’d be angry.” He toyed with my fingers, his gaze fixed on the window. I knew he didn’t believe me. The cab stopped outside a tiny family-run restaurant in Allston. He’d found it online; the menu was cheap. The fact that he’d even found a place so tucked away meant he’d put some thought into it. I looped my arm through his. “My treat. Birthday girl’s choice.” He froze for a second. “No. We agreed I’d pay.” I didn’t argue, just pulled him inside. While we ordered, Derek kept frowning. He wouldn’t even rest his elbows on the sticky tabletop. I glanced around. The place wasn’t exactly clean. There was a film of grease on the menus and condiment bottles that no amount of wiping could ever fully remove. When we first started dating, Derek had laid out the terms very clearly. He didn’t like women who only cared about money. This was the life he could offer me. If I couldn’t accept it, I was free to leave at any time. On our first date, he’d taken me to a taco truck parked on the curb. He was used to private clubs and restaurants with unlisted menus. The folding chairs beside that truck might as well have been from another planet. The moment he sat down, his whole body went rigid. He kept the toes of his expensive sneakers angled up, away from the dirty water pooled by the curb. When the smell of grease and grilled meat drifted over, he reflexively covered his nose. I worried he genuinely couldn’t handle it. My hand went to my wallet, already feeling too light, as I offered, “I can chip in. We could go somewhere indoors?” He just crossed his arms and refused. He didn’t even drink a bottle of water on that entire date. He just sat there until I finished eating. Now, he was much more practiced. He even knew to wipe the table down again with a napkin before we ate. Resting my chin on my hand, I watched him and remembered what he’d looked like on our first date.The first time I met Derek, I had just finished my third job of the day. I was on my way to class, my hair a mess, my back aching with exhaustion. He had just caught his girlfriend cheating on him. She was chasing him down a tree-lined campus path, begging him to forgive her. Derek was so furious his face was pale. The words coming out of his mouth were ugly. Maybe he noticed me because someone had mentioned I was always working. He suddenly called out to me. “How about you? Would you date me? If I didn’t spend a dime on you. Could you do that?” I was scrolling through vocabulary flashcards on my phone. His words made me pause. Without spending his money? I went from class to the tennis center to pick up balls, then to a convenience store for my night shift, then to a tutoring session. I pinched every penny when I bought groceries. And he was asking if I could resist coveting his money. I didn’t answer. I was too tired that day to waste energy on a stranger’s games. But he didn’t give up. At the time, I thought he had seen something in me worth liking. Looking back, he had probably just made that bet with his friends and was determined to win me over. Back then, my days were a frantic blur, rushing between different Boston neighborhoods. All I ever thought about were bills. This city was a constant, grinding noise. Sometimes I thought that if I took a wrong step one night and fell into the Charles River, maybe all the bills would stop coming. That day, without realizing it, I had walked to the river. I told myself I hadn’t meant to get so close to the edge. Derek came running and yanked me back. “What the hell are you doing? Didn’t you see there’s no railing there?” I threw my arms around him, and tears soaked the front of his shirt. In that moment, I thought maybe it didn’t matter if I never spent his money. At least someone would pull me back. That alone was enough. I could earn my own money. Later, Derek and I got together. With me, he played the part of being just as broke as I was. We clipped coupons and only ordered two coffees when the shop had a buy-one-get-one-free deal. We could have been any other couple in the city. We were invisible, and in that invisibility, we were happy. If Derek had lived his real life, he probably never would have done any of those things with me.
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