Carter Brooks was picking up girls at a bar, and he called me over to foot the bill. For three years, I had spent a staggering $10 million on him. He had never even bought me a single iced latte. He thought I was his ultimate doormat. He believed I would do whatever he wanted, forever. That was, until a mechanical voice echoed in my mind: "One billion dollars in cash has been distributed. Mission complete. Detaching from host." I knew I could finally leave him. Later, Carter chased after me relentlessly. He demanded to know why I wasn't treating him as well as I used to. I just laughed. "People have to look forward, you know? As you said yourself, that was the past." 01 I was squatting outside the nightclub, sick of scrolling through my phone. Through the neon lights and the haze of alcohol, a burst of laughter pierced my ears. "Why is Harper so obedient? She actually waited three hours out there?" "Jealous?" "Hell yeah, I'm jealous. I wish she was my girlfriend." "Oh, screw off. Have you looked in a mirror lately? She’d rather be my little doormat than be with a guy like you. She's never going to leave me." My body trembled. A wave of nausea hit me. A doormat... I truly had been Carter Brooks's doormat for three years. And a pathetic one at that. He flirted; I bought the roses. He booked the hotel rooms; I paid the bill. He broke up with them; I paid the "wasted youth" compensation fees. Over the years, he’d gone through twenty or thirty girlfriends. Eventually, I couldn't even remember their names or their faces. There were too many. It was too chaotic. This time, Carter was picking up a girl at a club. He texted me saying he was drunk and needed me to pick him up. But after I waited outside for three hours, he walked out looking perfectly sober. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was trampling on my dignity in front of others just to flex his superiority. In his eyes, my pride was worthless. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood... Not long after, Carter stumbled over. His footsteps were heavy, his eyes hazy, and his arm was wrapped tightly around a girl's waist. He tossed an order at me like I was the valet. "Harper, pay the tab!" I stayed silent, obediently walking inside to swipe my card. Behind me, the roar of "Carter is the man!" echoed through the crowd. In that moment, I felt like a stray dog. After paying the $1,000 bar tab, they were planning to hit a VIP karaoke lounge, and after that, a hotel. I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to reason with him. "I have to work tomorrow. I'll leave you two grand. Just take an Uber home tonight, okay?" Carter’s face darkened instantly. "If you go home now, don't ever bother seeing me again." My body shook uncontrollably. My face went pale. Carter looked satisfied. He’d seen this expression on my face countless times. It was the look that meant I was about to compromise. And I really was terrified. The phantom feeling of electricity surging through my veins had already triggered a trauma response. 02 Three years ago, because of a single sentence I said to Carter, I became bound to a System. The System demanded that I treat Carter with unconditional devotion. Once the mission was complete, I would be rewarded with $1 billion. At first, I didn’t take it seriously. That was until I missed a mission deadline. I was struck by a severe electric shock, my whole body convulsing, wishing I could just die on the spot. That was when I realized this System wasn't playing around. At the time, Carter actually seemed to have a thing for me. When I joined the company as an intern, he was the one training me. When he cornered me in the breakroom, his fingers gently brushing against my cheek, my heart definitely skipped a beat. But when I caught him in the stairwell a week later, practically groping another intern, that crush died instantly. Later, I analyzed the System's rules carefully. Wasn't this just a sugar-momma simulator? For every $1 I spent on Carter, the System returned $100 to my bank account. But I had to spend my own hard-earned money first. Who knew if the System’s promised billion at the end was even real? Plus, Carter was in a senior management position. I was just a lowly intern. Even if I gave him every penny I had, would he even care? He did care! But I didn't have time to worry about that. My biggest headache was securing my full-time offer. I put together a flawless project proposal and handed it in. The next day, Carter shoved a different, mediocre proposal into my hands and told me to claim it as mine. I watched helplessly as the other intern, Chloe Jenkins, dazzled everyone in the boardroom using my brilliant proposal. Meanwhile, I stood there holding her garbage proposal and got chewed out by the executives. Carter then stood up, apologizing sincerely to the room. He claimed he hadn't mentored me well enough, but insisted he saw "potential" in me, successfully lobbying to keep both Chloe and me on the team. I understood immediately. He needed someone to sleep with, and someone to do the actual work. Chloe and I had clearly defined roles. That day, I realized exactly what my future at this company looked like. With Carter suppressing me, I’d never get the credit. I'd just be the workhorse taking the blame. If that was the case... Why shouldn't I be the one moving up? Soon after, using a burner email, I sent a highly explicit video of Carter and our female department director going at it in the boardroom to the entire company's mailing list. Carter was fired. The female director was ruined. Before she left, she hired someone to beat the living hell out of Carter. And right at that moment, I swooped in. I bought him meds, cooked for him, and took perfect care of him. I originally thought that if he genuinely turned over a new leaf, I’d consider it my good deed for the decade. But one day, when I unlocked his apartment door, I heard strange noises coming from the bedroom. I froze. Hearing the front door, Carter poked his head out. He looked panicked. A woman walked out of the bedroom, clothes disheveled, her face flushed. It was Chloe Jenkins. Later, I found out exactly why Chloe had come looking for him. Even though Carter was fired for a sex scandal, he still had industry connections. She wanted him to help her get a promotion. Carter looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Harper, you came to me. Are you telling me you don't have the same goal? You and Chloe, neither of you is better than the other. But she's willing to put herself out there. She's going to go a lot further in this industry than you." Is that so? The day I was promoted to Carter's old position as Department Manager, my first order of business was demoting Chloe. Carter’s phone call came through almost immediately. "Harper, what the hell is this?" "Are you targeting me, or are you targeting Chloe?" Both, obviously. But I couldn't say that. I kept my voice soft. "It was an executive decision. My hands are tied. I'm really sorry... how about I buy you that designer belt you wanted to make up for it?" Carter cursed at me and hung up. When I showed up at his place with a $1,500 Gucci belt, Carter was genuinely shocked. He pinned me against the wall, his hot breath grazing my ear. "Did you really take down Chloe just for me?" "Harper, I didn't know you could be so ruthless just to have me." His eyes suddenly filled with suspicion. I knew he was wondering about that anonymous boardroom video. I turned my head away, looking at the floor with teary eyes. "So what if I did? Will you give her up for me?" "Heh! Depends on what you're willing to pay." He lowered his head to kiss me. The way he moved, it felt like he wanted to devour me alive. He was no gentleman. If I was offering myself up on a silver platter, he wasn't going to refuse. But I felt sick. I wanted to vomit. If it weren't for the System's electric shocks, I would be staying a million miles away from a scumbag like him. I flipped the script, pressing a hand against his lips to stop him. "Carter, I can give you everything I have. But you have to pay a price, too. If you ever betray me, I'll kill you." He scoffed, not taking me seriously at all. With a cold expression, I dragged him into the kitchen. I picked up a chef's knife, sliced my wrist slightly, and let the blood drip into a bowl. I handed the knife to him. "Your turn. Our blood needs to mix. We drink this, and whoever betrays the other dies a horrible death." I was dead serious. If Carter actually dared to make the blood oath, I would have accepted my fate. But Carter dropped the knife in horror. "You're a psycho! You're out of your damn mind!" "Carter, I only love once. If you want to be with me, we have to do this." I picked up the knife. I took a step toward him. Carter was terrified. He frantically knocked the knife out of my hand, shoved me out of his apartment, and warned me never to come back. I looked at the drying blood on my wrist and sneered. What a coward. I paid a little price, but I knew that from this day forward, Carter Brooks would never dare touch me or make out-of-line demands again. For a long time after that, he didn't contact me, and I didn't contact him. Whenever I suffered the agonizing, near-death electric shocks from missing a System deadline, I would tell myself: if I can survive this pain, nothing else in life can stop me. Sure enough, my career skyrocketed. Six months later, I took over the female director's old position, becoming the youngest Senior Director in the company. Meanwhile, Chloe Jenkins had been completely marginalized. She'd be lucky to make supervisor in this lifetime. After my promotion dinner, Carter called me. His tone was suggestive. "Harper, should I come over?" I hesitated for a second, then said yes. 03 Whoever ties the knot has to untie it. The System was bound to me because of Carter, and only through him could it be unbound. I couldn't live my whole life carrying this System. Fixing this was my top priority. I did the math. To offset the $1 billion reward and reach the unbinding threshold, I needed to spend exactly $10 million on Carter. But to spend $10 million on a man, I had to make $10 million first. At my current salary, it would take me over a decade. A decade... My best years, wasted working like a dog just to fund Carter's life. The thought alone suffocated me. I went to see him. I had looked into his situation. He wasn't doing well. He was a low-level manager at a tiny startup. He had lost his polish; the arrogant, high-flying elite aura was completely gone. When he saw me, a flash of awe crossed his eyes, followed quickly by deep confusion and resentment. I had reached the heights he used to dream of. He had to be jealous. We exchanged polite pleasantries, both of us pretending the psycho knife incident had never happened. I was in a rush to make money and had no time to waste, so I cut to the chase and told him to speak his mind. He gave me a playful smirk. "You're lacking a good executive assistant, aren't you? What do you think about Chloe?" Chloe again. I laughed. "Being an assistant is beneath her. Why don't you two just go to the courthouse right now? I'll even write you a massive wedding check." His face fell, glaring at me angrily. I leaned in, my voice provocative. "Spend money on you? Sure. Help her out? Not a chance in hell." "You're still in love with me?" Carter raised an eyebrow, thinking he had the upper hand. I didn't answer. I just stared at him in silence. He laughed mockingly. "Alright then. Let's see how much you're willing to spend on me." From that day on, I became Carter's personal ATM. He knew exactly what day my paychecks cleared. Because of him, my bank account was usually empty by the second day of the month. I also noticed that a lot of the designer goods Carter made me buy ended up on Chloe's Instagram feed. Whenever Chloe saw me at work, her eyes were full of mockery and disdain. But none of that stopped my relentless climb up the corporate ladder. When I made VP of Operations, I took some of my money and hired a male sugar baby. He was a smooth-talker who called me "boss lady" and knew exactly how to create drama. Whenever he was off the clock with me, he’d mysteriously show up to pick up Chloe, taking her to wild, exclusive VIP parties. Aside from having no money of his own, he was perfect. Soon, to support her new lavish lifestyle, Chloe started selling off her designer bags on Poshmark. I took the photos my sugar baby secretly sent me and forwarded them straight to Carter. I asked him: Is this what they call an open relationship? You love her, she loves him... are we all just funding a charity here? Carter aggressively texted back: "You bitch!" The next day, Chloe showed up to work with a bruised face and handed in her resignation. I happily signed off on it immediately. She glared at me, her eyes brimming with pure hatred. "Harper, do you even know that the money you kill yourself to make is actually being spent on me? You sponsor Carter, and Carter sponsors me. Bet you didn't see that coming, did you?" I laughed. "Oh, I know! I also know you're fencing all that stuff on Poshmark. How's that going? Getting hit with bad reviews yet?" "You bought fake stuff?! Impossible. They all had authenticated receipts!" "The receipts were real. The bags weren't. Grow up, sweetheart. Learn how the game is played before you try to survive in the real world." Right then, Chloe's phone buzzed. She answered it, and a deafening voice screamed through the speaker: "You scamming bitch, selling fake trash!" She panicked, running out of the office looking like a complete mess. Later, Carter called me. "Harper, you are ruthless. You bought me knockoffs?" I replied sweetly, "The men's stuff was real. The women's stuff was fake. Go get it appraised if you don't believe me." Why would I ever fund Chloe Jenkins's life through Carter? There’s an art to spending money. I needed Carter to burn through my cash, leaving him with absolutely nothing to show for it—no real assets, no leverage, no savings. After that, Carter ignored me for a solid month. Word on the street was Chloe had scratched his face up pretty bad, and the two had a spectacularly messy breakup. But that month was pure hell for me. The System's mission deadlines were relentless. I got shocked so badly I almost ended up paralyzed. Waking up in the hospital, I realized I couldn't play hardball with Carter anymore. I had to play nice. I had to make him utterly dependent on me. Making more money to break this curse as fast as possible—that was the only way to win. From then on, I became his ultimate doormat. As long as his demands weren't completely insane, I agreed to all of them. And Carter, perhaps traumatized by Chloe, or just wanting to trigger me, completely let himself go. He swapped girlfriends so fast I couldn't match faces to names. Thankfully, he knew he was garbage, and he was terrified of meeting another "psycho" like me. So the girls he dated were just as shallow and messy as he was. He loved showing off my blind devotion in front of his new flings, treating my dignity like a welcome mat. Many times, walking away from him, I questioned everything. Why did the System choose a guy like him? I was perfectly average; he was complete trash. What did either of us do to get chosen by this cosmic joke? It kept me up at night. But looking at it from another angle... Carter was genuinely handsome. Even at rock bottom, girls threw themselves at him. He had expensive taste; all his girlfriends were gorgeous in their own ways. If I hadn't destroyed his career early on, a guy like him might have climbed to the top, stolen corporate resources, started his own firm, and turned into one of those arrogant billionaire playboys you read about in romance novels. And me? I had some looks; otherwise, Carter wouldn't have kept me around this long. I was highly competent; otherwise, I wouldn't have climbed the ranks so fast. If I had been foolish enough to fall in love, wouldn't I just be the tragic heroine in a romance novel, using my pure love to redeem the bad boy? Thinking about it that way, it all made a sick kind of sense. But that was just a theory. I was just thankful I wasn't actually in love with Carter. I loved the cash-back balance ticking up on the System interface. It was already past $900 million. Just a little longer, and it would all be over. Three years had passed. Carter was entirely used to my existence. Because I funded his life and asked for absolutely nothing in return, his ego had inflated to the size of a blimp. He had quit his job ages ago. He lived in a drunken stupor, bouncing between clubs, VIP lounges, luxury spas, and high-end resorts. He got addicted to mobile games, dropping ten grand at a time on micro-transactions. He even became obsessed with Twitch streamers, sending massive donations and constantly sliding into their DMs to hook up. His Instagram was a nauseating feed of VIP access and exotic vacations, every caption practically screaming: "Rich and reckless." He had hollowed himself out with booze and women. He had devolved into pure, unadulterated trash. 04 I had to promise to buy Carter a green Rolex Submariner just to get him to leave me alone for the weekend. I rushed back to the office, pulling an all-nighter until the next morning. Today was a massive day: the Executive VP, Mr. Sterling, was coming in for a site visit. I had to present our project roadmap. If I nailed this, a major promotion and a massive bonus were guaranteed. But the moment I saw Mr. Sterling's new executive secretary, I knew I was screwed. It was Chloe Jenkins. She had clearly gotten some work done. Her 7-out-of-10 face had been surgically forced into a 9. Fillers, Botox—her skin was flawless, paired with that trendy 'innocent but sexy' makeup. She practically sparkled, making everyone else in the room look dull. She shot me a mocking glare, casually setting down her purse, gracefully turning her wrist as she took a pretentious sip of coffee. The bag? Fifty grand. The watch? Over a hundred grand. Her outfit? Easily ten grand. The jewelry around her neck? Another hundred grand. She was casually flexing everything she had, silently mocking me. Reminding me that no matter how high I climbed, I still had to read the room when she was in it. I pushed down my anxiety and delivered my presentation perfectly. But I barely got three sentences in before Mr. Sterling cut me off. "I heard you've only been out of college a few years. Are you really equipped to handle a project of this scale?" He turned to the rest of the room. "Why are veterans who have bled for this company for years getting passed over, while she gets promoted?" "Is there something wrong with your management structure?" For the rest of the meeting, Mr. Sterling specifically called on someone else to report. After it ended, my team members were called in for one-on-one interrogations. I was being boxed out. I went to the restroom to splash cold water on my face. Chloe was leaning against the sinks, smiling brightly. "Harper, you worked so hard for so long. But all it takes is a snap of my fingers, and everything you've built vanishes. Are you scared?" I looked at her in the mirror. Her eyes were bigger—definitely a canthoplasty. Her nose looked a little translucent under the harsh light—a rhinoplasty. Her smile was stiff. She was afraid to make any major expressions—definitely some bone-shaving. I replied coldly, "Is it just a snap of your fingers, or the slice of a scalpel? A face like that... the maintenance fees must be brutal." Her smile vanished instantly, but then she relaxed. "Heh. Well, I have men willing to spend money on me, so I can tweak whatever I want. Unlike you. You have to buy your way into a man's life. You've emptied your bank accounts over the last few years, haven't you?" For a second, I didn't know what to say. I had treated myself like a pack mule for years. Just to escape the System's clutches, I worked myself to the bone and dumped every penny onto Carter. Look at me now—broke, exhausted, clipping coupons. Meanwhile, Carter was out there living like a pampered billionaire. People at work whispered that I had an unhealthy obsession, that I was pathetic for hanging onto him. But they didn't know I didn't have a choice. I wiped my face and hands, keeping my smile perfectly intact. "You're right. I spent a fortune on Carter. And didn't he funnel a nice chunk of that cash straight to you?" "Did my money help pay for your plastic surgery?" "When you think about it, shouldn't you be thanking me for your new face?" Chloe's expression twisted in rage. She swung her heavy designer bag right at my head. I didn't dodge. I took the hit square on the shoulder. I looked past her, aiming my eyes at the doorway. Chloe noticed, spun around, and froze. Mr. Sterling was standing right there. She immediately panicked. "She's lying! She's trying to frame me!" "I paid for every hotel room you and Carter ever booked. Want me to pull up the receipts?" I casually pulled out my phone and started scrolling. I had kept meticulous records of every single dime I spent on Carter. That was my blood money. Mr. Sterling glared at me, his eyes full of venom. I just smiled and politely excused myself. I walked slowly. Faintly, I could hear Mr. Sterling cursing her out: "You lying bitch, you told me you were pure." I couldn't hear whatever Chloe was crying about in response. I didn't see either of them for the rest of the afternoon. When I was leaving work, the receptionist leaned in and whispered the gossip. Mr. Sterling had stormed out in a rage, and Chloe was chasing after him, sobbing. Her arrogant, triumphant attitude from this morning was completely gone. I smiled, handed the receptionist a luxury hotel gift card, and thanked her for the premium tea. Walking out of the corporate high-rise, I looked up at the glass facade. I knew I couldn't stay here anymore. I needed an exit strategy. Sure enough, the next morning, a termination notice was waiting on my desk. Not only were they firing me, but they were launching an "internal investigation." They wanted to "audit" how I got promoted so fast and why my salary was so high. They framed it like I didn't deserve it. But every single project I touched had been a massive cash cow for the company. Several of them had become industry benchmarks, literally taught in business seminars. Yet, out of Mr. Sterling's mouth, I was just someone who slept her way to the top? Even if I wanted to rely on my looks to get ahead, I'd have to cure my nausea first! A greasy, middle-aged creep like him? I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. I graciously stepped away from my desk and invited IT to search my computer. Only a few minutes later, they scurried away looking panicked. Immediately after, the HR Director rushed over. "Do you realize what you're doing is highly illegal?!" "Hmm?" I looked at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I was actually just about to bring that up. You see, these files were recorded illegally. But I'm just the one who found them." "A while back, our office security cameras broke. A client conveniently sent over some prototype surveillance tech, so I installed them to test the product performance." "I had no idea it would accidentally record certain executives colluding and embezzling company funds." "I was actually planning on forwarding these videos directly to Mr. Sterling to review..." "Don't send it!" the HR Director squeaked. I looked at him cheerfully, not saying another word. His face darkened. Swallowing his rage, he lowered his voice. "Harper, Mr. Sterling knows all about your past drama with Chloe Jenkins. He doesn't want to see your face in this building ever again." "Going to war with us and dragging everyone down with you isn't going to help." "Let's be realistic. What do you actually want?" I knew the oven was hot enough. I replied coolly, "I just want what I'm owed. Take back the dirty water you tried to pour on my name. The honors, the bonuses—I want both." The HR Director walked away, looking like his soul had left his body. Not long after, several department heads marched into Mr. Sterling's office. An hour later, a company-wide email was blasted out. The email praised my outstanding contributions and formally awarded me the "Employee of the Year" honor. It stated that I had found a better opportunity elsewhere and had graciously declined the company's counter-offer to stay. Oh, and it included a $1 million departure bonus, noting that the company's doors would always be open to me. They gave me the money and saved my reputation. I was highly satisfied. After processing the wire transfer with Finance, I finally felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I bumped into Mr. Sterling by the front doors. Surprisingly, he gave me a stiff nod. I guessed the other directors had sold him a story about my brilliance, and he bought it. He probably regretted letting me go but had too much ego to walk it back. I gave him a polite smile, turned, and stepped into the elevator. Belated affection is cheaper than dirt; a boss's regret is worth even less. On to the next chapter.
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