My Billionaire Mom Went Nuclear After Finding Out I Was Eating Leftovers

Chapter 1

The day my mother drove her Maybach to school to see me, I was in the dining hall picking through someone else's leftovers.

She snatched the food out of my hands, furious, and dumped it in the trash.

"It's not like I don't give you money. You're sitting here eating other people's leftovers—are you trying to make everyone think I don't even feed my own daughter?"

I was about to explain when my academic advisor suddenly leaned in and whispered to me,

"Don't talk back. Your mom cares about appearances. Don't put her on the spot."

The advisor was my mother's best friend. My mother had been sending all my living expenses to her to pass on to me—two hundred dollars a month.

Having calmed me down, the advisor turned straight to my mother.

"Theresa was only trying not to waste food. That's a good thing. Don't be too hard on her."

My mother's expression softened a little, but her tone remained stern.

"Being thrifty is fine, but you can't go eating other people's leftovers. Imagine what people would say if word got out."

"Give me your meal card and go get me a meal. I want to taste what your dining hall food is like."

I lowered my head and said quietly.

"I don't have any money."

My mother lost her temper and snapped at me,

"No money? I transfer fifty thousand dollars to your advisor every single month for your allowance, and it's only the start of the month and you're telling me you have no money? Where did it all go?!"

——

In an instant, the whole dining hall fell silent.

This was the first time I'd ever picked up someone else's leftovers.

Faced with a pile of meat scraps and vegetable stems, I wolfed it down, as if I could swallow the plate along with the food.

Everyone in the dining hall was looking at me.

But their eyes were strangely calm.

As if they'd long since expected something like this to happen to me.

Because I was so poor.

Poor to the point of barely surviving.

On the first day of freshman year, my mother was away on a business trip and had no time to drop me off.

But she made a point of sending me a message.

"Your advisor is my closest friend. From now on I'll transfer your living expenses to her every month. If anything comes up, just go straight to her."

Seeing that message back then, I actually felt reassured.

I figured that even though my mother was always buried in work, she still cared about me—she'd even made sure I had someone looking out for me at college.

But once I'd finished registration, moved into my dorm, and gone to find the advisor, she handed me only two hundred dollars.

"Theresa, this is the monthly allowance your mom asked me to pass on to you."

I stared at the two hundred dollars in her hand, completely stunned.

"Two hundred dollars... to last me a whole month?"

The advisor gave a small nod and said,

"It's not a lot, but you won't be spending much at school, so it should be enough."

"Don't blame your mom, either. She says young people these days are too spoiled, and she doesn't want a daughter who has everything handed to her. So she wants to use this chance to really teach you how to live frugally and manage your money."

"She said that only by making two hundred dollars a month through all four years of college will you be able to handle the pressures of the real world later—that you'll become someone tough and hardworking, someone who can take whatever life throws at you."

I don't know how I made it back to the classroom.

I only remember that my head was a mess that day.

My mother, a company CEO, was worth a fortune.

She could spend three hundred dollars on a single bag of treats for our cat.

The cat would eat a few bites, and the whole bag would be gone.

That worked out to barely six dollars and sixty cents a day.

An average of six dollars and sixty cents a day.

The cheapest vegetable dish in the dining hall was two-fifty, and rice was a dollar.

One bowl of rice with one vegetable side already came to three-fifty.

Even if I skipped breakfast, I'd still spend at least $210 a month.

Not to mention necessities like toilet paper, toothpaste, body wash, and pads, plus unavoidable expenses like class dues, textbook fees, club fees, and utilities.

Chapter 2

Two hundred dollars a month wasn't enough to survive on at college.

I stared at the two hundred dollars in my hand, hesitating for a long time.

In the end, I dialed my mother's number anyway.

The line rang several times before her tired voice came through.

"Theresa, did your advisor give you the money I sent you?"

I nodded, my voice a little tight.

"She gave it to me."

My mother let out a quiet "Mm."

"Then make it last."

"Just because you're in college doesn't mean you can spend recklessly. Understand?"

I had to make two hundred dollars last an entire month.

And she was actually telling me not to be wasteful?

I'd just opened my mouth to tell her the money wasn't nearly enough.

But she cut me off, sounding rushed.

"All right, I have a meeting to get to."

"I'll be very busy for a while. If you need anything, go to your advisor."

And with that, my mother hung up.

The call had barely ended when the class president came looking for me.

"Theresa, all the freshmen are required to attend the freshman training. The uniform fee is one hundred eighty dollars. You're the only one in the class who hasn't paid yet."

Without thinking, I tightened my grip on the two hundred dollars.

A whole month's living expenses, gone before I'd even had a chance to use them.

It was a mandatory expense.

I handed the two hundred dollars to the class president.

She gave me twenty back.

And added, as an afterthought.

"There's also fifty dollars in class dues. Remember to pay it sometime this week."

With that, she turned and walked off.

Clutching the twenty dollars in my hand, I suddenly remembered my mother telling me over the phone not to waste money.

In that moment, I badly wanted to ask her. Did I even have anything to waste?

After class, I skipped dinner and went straight back to the dorm.

My roommates called out for me to come to a group dinner—a start-of-semester party, with everyone pitching in fifty dollars each.

I shook my head and said I wasn't feeling well.

They glanced at me, said nothing, and left.

The whole dorm fell silent, leaving me alone.

That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Early the next morning, I went looking for a part-time job.

The freshman training was only a few days away. I had to use the time I had left to earn the class dues and my living expenses.

I combed through the area around campus and found a bubble tea shop on the back street that needed a part-timer—ten dollars an hour.

That day, I stood in the bubble tea shop and spent eight straight hours squeezing lemons by hand.

My legs swelled up, and my hands hurt so badly I could barely lift them.

At the end of my shift, the owner handed me eighty dollars.

Pinching those few crumpled bills, for the first time I understood just how heavy a few dozen dollars could be.

Back at school, I found the class president and paid the fifty dollars in dues.

Then I bought the cheapest pack of plain noodles I could find.

Five dollars, enough to get me through several days.

The other three roommates saw me cooking noodles in the dorm, and one by one they gave me those awkward, knowing looks.

After that, no one in the dorm ever invited me out to eat or shop again.

I became invisible, leaving early and coming back late every day, juggling classes with whatever part-time work I could find.

No matter how carefully I stretched every dollar or how many part-time shifts I picked up, I still couldn't make ends meet.

Because every month I still had to pay the dorm's utilities, textbook fees, and phone bill, and sometimes a club would suddenly ask for another activity fee.

The pressure never let up.

Every day I tried to keep my food budget to around five dollars.

No breakfast.

At noon, a bowl of plain white rice and a serving of vegetables.

And for dinner, I'd have plain noodles boiled in water.

I used no facial cleanser or skincare products. I used only a tiny bit of body wash and shampoo each time. When they ran out, I'd add water and squeeze out every last drop.

My toothpaste, I squeezed until the tube was flattened into a thin strip, then cut it open with scissors and scraped out every last bit.

Chapter 3

For pads, all I could afford was the cheapest kind, the loose ones that came ten to a pack, stiff and uncomfortable against my skin. But I had no choice.

The bubble tea shop didn't need me every day. After freshman orientation ended, I picked up another gig handing out flyers.

Forty dollars a day, paid at the end of each shift.

All summer, my skin peeled from the heat. My clothes were constantly drenched in sweat, drying only to be soaked through again.

Now and then I'd see my academic advisor drive past.

She spotted me, pulled over, and took one of my flyers, praising me with a pleased smile.

"Theresa, sweetie, all this hardship your mom is putting you through will make you stronger in the end."

"Keep it up. Be independent, and don't let your mom down."

With that, she hit the gas and drove away.

Back in the dorm, I saw how sunburned my hands were, dark red, the skin flaking away at the slightest touch.

I reached over and peeled off a strip of dead skin, then looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly felt like I was staring at a stranger.

Two months had passed since the semester began.

I'd lost a full twenty pounds.

My mom used to say I had baby fat, pinching my cheeks and telling me to slim down.

Well, now she'd gotten her wish. She ought to be satisfied now.

I made it through summer, then fall, and finally winter came.

The cold wind cut straight through me like a knife.

I wanted to buy a winter coat.

But even the cheapest one cost three hundred dollars.

Two hundred dollars was a month and a half of my entire living budget.

I couldn't afford one, so I just had to make do.

One day the temperature plunged, down to twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.

I handed out flyers all day in one thin long-sleeved shirt, my hands red with cold, my fingers too stiff to bend.

The next day, I got sick.

Both hands were covered in chilblains, my head spinning, my throat raw, I was so weak I could barely stand.

My roommates told me to go to the hospital.

But I'd just paid the last textbook fee of the semester, and I had thirteen dollars left in my pocket.

I couldn't even afford a single bottle of medicine.

I lay in bed for a full day and night, and my body still didn't show any signs of improving.

It felt like there were razor blades lodged in my throat. Every swallow, every breath, was excruciating.

On the third day, I couldn't take it anymore, and I dialed my mom's number.

That whole semester, I'd barely been in contact with her.

Because my advisor kept telling me my mom was swamped with work, that I should be mature and not bother her with unnecessary phone calls.

I always listened and did as I was told, dealing with everything on my own no matter how bad things got.

But now, I was truly out of options.

When she saw my call come through, my mom sounded surprised.

"Shouldn't you be in class right now? Why are you suddenly calling me?"

Fighting through the pain, I rasped out the words.

"Mom, I'm sick, and I don't have money to see a doctor."

"Could you... send me some more money?"

On the other end, my mom's voice came instantly, shocked and edged with anger.

"Didn't I tell you again and again to watch your spending and not waste money?"

"How could you spend so much that you don't even have money to see a doctor?"

Something ached in my chest.

I honestly couldn't understand it. With only two hundred dollars a month to cover everything, just staying alive was already an enormous struggle.

How much more was I supposed to cut?

"Mom, I didn't waste anything, every month I…"

Before I could finish, she cut me off sharply.

"If you didn't waste it, how do you not even have money to see a doctor?"

"Theresa, I work myself to the bone every day to support you, and this is how you repay me?"

"You don't have an ounce of self-control. I'm so disappointed in you!"

With that, she abruptly hung up.

I clutched the phone, my chest tight, emotionally exhausted.

Why?

Chapter 4

Why did other girls get to live carefree lives, never having to worry about food or clothes, while I had to scrape and struggle just to get by on a few dollars a month?

Why, when I'd already done everything I could to work my way through college, did I still end up branded as wasteful and ungrateful?

Just how far did I have to go before she'd be satisfied?

Half an hour later, the dorm door was flung open.

It was my academic advisor.

She came in frowning, and immediately started in on me.

"Theresa, what is wrong with you?"

"Didn't I tell you your mother's been swamped with work lately? Don't bother her unless it's an emergency."

"So why did you go and call her, of all things, asking for money?"

"Do you have any idea how furious she was when she called me? You really set her off."

I drew a deep breath and said weakly, "Ms. Fox, I'm sick. I only called her because I truly had no money left to see a doctor..."

The advisor stepped closer, patted my head, and softened her tone a little. "Theresa, honey, I know things aren't easy for you. But your mother is only doing it for your own good."

"Kids these days are all so soft. They can't handle any hardship. Your mother wants to toughen you up, so you can handle things on your own when you're out in the real world."

"Try to understand her, all right?"

My nose burned, and tears streamed down my cheeks.

I understood her.

But who was going to understand me?

Living on two hundred dollars a month had worn me down to the point where I almost couldn't take it anymore.

Seeing that I said nothing, the advisor pulled two hundred dollars from her pocket and held it out. "Take this two hundred dollars. Consider it a personal loan and go see a doctor."

"But you have to remember. You must never breathe a word of this to your mother."

"She's determined to toughen you up. If she found out you not only spent all your money but took a handout from me on the side, she'd feel all that hardship you've been through was for nothing. She wouldn't just scold you. I'd get dragged into it too."

I looked at the two hundred dollars in the advisor's hand, and my emotions were a tangled mess.

My hands shaking, I took the money and said softly, "Thank you, Ms. Fox. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Don't be so formal with me."

The advisor gave my hand a gentle pat and spoke with quiet seriousness.

"From now on, if anything comes up, just come to me. Stop bothering your mother. She's been very busy lately, and her mood isn't good. The more you contact her, the more agitated she gets."

I nodded weakly. "I understand."

The advisor looked me over, satisfied, reminded me that I needed to learn to overcome my own difficulties, then turned and left the dorm.

Clutching those two hundred dollars, I dragged my weak, sick body to the campus clinic.

The doctor finished examining me and spoke gravely.

"Your fever is 103.6, your tonsils are severely infected, and you've developed pneumonia. How did you let yourself get this sick before coming in?"

I gripped the two hundred dollars in my hand and lowered my head without a word.

He prescribed three days of IV treatment and a pile of medicine. The total came to over five hundred and eighty.

I told him the only money I had on me was two hundred dollars.

He sighed. "Then I'll start you on one day of IV treatment and some emergency medication. Try to scrape together more money and finish out the rest of the course. Whatever you do, don't drag it out."

"If you keep putting it off, that lung infection could become serious."

I nodded, thanked him, and started the drip.

After two bags of IV fluids, the pounding in my head eased a little.

By the time I came out of the clinic, the sky had already gone dark.

Passing the dining hall, the smell of the food inside made my stomach growl.

Only then did it hit me. I hadn't eaten anything in three whole days.

Chapter 5

I stood at the entrance of the dining hall, and there was only one thought left in my head.

If I didn't eat something soon, I might actually die.

I looked into the dining hall. It was the dinner rush, people coming and going, and a lot of students would simply leave their trays in a corner after eating, waiting for the cleaning staff to come collect them.

Looking at that corner piled high with trays of half-eaten food, I hesitated for a few seconds, then walked over and dug into the pile of leftovers, wolfing them down.

I was too hungry.

Leftovers or stale food, it didn't matter. As long as it filled my stomach, I was willing to eat anything.

Seeing me eating other people's leftovers in the corner sent a shock through the whole dining hall.

Every student turned to stare at me.

"Oh my God, who is that? Why is she eating someone else's leftovers?"

"That's Theresa, from our class. I heard her family's dirt poor, only two hundred bucks a month to live on. She can't even afford sanitary pads. That's so sad."

"No way. People are still that poor these days?"

"Her hands are all red and swollen from the cold. It's so gross to look at..."

The crowd around me kept growing.

Some people pulled out their phones to film me.

Some pointed and whispered.

I heard every word—the gossip, the disgust, all of it.

But I had no room to care.

I crouched in the corner like a dog driven half-mad by hunger, thinking of nothing but filling my stomach.

A few seconds later, I heard the sound of an engine outside the dining hall.

Then came the gasps from everyone.

"Whoa, a Maybach?"

"Which rich kid's parent just showed up?"

I was too busy gnawing on the discarded chicken bones to pay any attention to the commotion.

But the next second, a pair of high heels stopped right in front of me.

I slowly lifted my head.

And saw my mother's furious face.

My mom appeared in front of me without warning, and I froze, my mind going completely blank.

I stared at her for several seconds, wondering if I was dreaming, before scrambling to my feet.

"Mom?"

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

That one word made the whole dining hall fall silent in an instant.

No one had expected the elegant woman stepping out of that Maybach to be the mother of the poorest girl on campus.

My mom said nothing.

She only looked me over without a word.

My hair was a mess, my mouth greasy, and my clothes covered in stains.

And I was still clutching a half-eaten chicken frame in my hand.

Before I could react, my mom frowned, snatched the thing out of my hand in a fury, and threw it into the trash.

"Theresa, have you lost your mind?"

"It's not like I don't give you living expenses. You're here eating other people's scraps. Are you trying to make people think I don't even feed my own daughter?"

My mom was angry.

But did I want this?

If I hadn't been broke, would I have chosen to eat other people's leftovers like a dog, while everyone pointed and whispered about me?

I was about to speak when the academic advisor hurried over, leaned in close, and said to me in a low voice.

"Don't talk back. Your mom cares about appearances. Seeing you like this, she feels humiliated, so of course she's angry."

"But she's still your mother. Don't embarrass her in front of everyone."

I glanced at the advisor, and in the end I stayed silent.

Having calmed me down, the advisor immediately turned to my mom.

"Alma Henson, Theresa's only doing this because she doesn't want to waste food. It shows she's got a good heart. Don't blame her."

My mom's expression eased a little, but her tone was still hard.

"Being thrifty is a good thing, but you don't go around eating other people's leftovers. How would that look if word got out?"

The advisor smiled and nodded.

"You're right. Theresa really didn't think this through. She's still young, doesn't know any better. I'll make sure to keep an eye on her and talk some sense into her."