I suspected my boyfriend was being kept by a sugar mama. He was handsome enough. And poor enough. And lately, he'd been cold enough. But the real reason? That night I accidentally saw his phone: a woman saved as “Sugar Mama” had sent him twenty thousand dollars in “pocket money.” I gave his photo to a private investigator. I wanted hard evidence so I could get back the money I'd scrimped and saved to support him for the past three years. But the PI looked so terrified he almost fell to his knees. “Please, ma'am, let me off the hook. This guy… who in their right mind would dare to investigate him?” 1 Ten days into suspecting my boyfriend was cheating, I found myself in a private investigator's office. I slid my phone across the table toward him, my lips pressed into a thin line as I tried to swallow the bitter knot in my throat. “This is all I have of their chat history. The rest… they must delete it regularly.” The PI picked up the phone and glanced at the screenshot I’d taken last night. It wasn’t much, just a single page. And it was all one-sided, from “Sugar Mama.” 【Are you done with your little tantrum?】 【I sent you twenty thousand in pocket money. Is that enough to soothe your wounded little soul?】 【You have to come see me tomorrow!】 【You heartless boy, don't you miss me at all?】 【I must have owed you in a past life to be stuck with a troublemaker like you!】 He raised an eyebrow, a look of bored familiarity on his face. He didn't ask any follow-up questions. "So, Ms. Miller, how can I help you?" I managed a small, brittle smile, my eyes cast downward to hide the sting of tears. My fingers twisted the hem of my skirt. "I need you to get irrefutable proof of their affair. Something that would ruin their reputations if it ever got out. He's a nobody with nothing to lose, but a rich woman like that must care about her image." "He wants to climb the social ladder, fine. I respect that. But I spent three years pinching every penny to support him. I want that money back." Only with the money in hand could I allow myself to break down completely. "The next picture is of him." The PI gave me a surprised, almost appreciative look. He swiped the screen. "Let's see what kind of stud could hook a sugar ma— Holy shit!" The phone clattered onto the table. The color drained from the PI's face, and he recoiled, pressing himself back into his chair as if he’d seen a ghost. He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you insane? Why are you showing me a picture of him?" 2 I blinked, my first thought being that I’d sent the wrong photo. I leaned over to check. No, that was him. “What’s wrong with the picture? That’s my boyfriend.” The handsome, broke guy who had nothing left but his good looks after crashing into my scooter three years ago and breaking his leg. The accident was how we met, how we fell in love. He was the boyfriend who had lived with me in a tiny, cheap apartment for three years, the one who squeezed onto crowded subways with me and fought for discount vegetables at the grocery store. Lately, he’d been using "busy with work" as an excuse to leave early and come home late, growing distant and cold. He was always hiding his phone, a storm of secrets brewing behind his eyes. The boyfriend I suspected was now cheating on me with a sugar mama. Leo Anderson. "What?!" The PI's expression was one of pure incredulity. His gaze shifted, becoming strange and speculative. "Lady, are you messing with me? Are you some gold digger so desperate to marry into wealth that you've lost your mind?" "That's Leo Anderson! The heir to the Anderson fortune, the number one playboy in this city. You think he's your boyfriend? The guy's worth billions! The number of women throwing themselves at him… you couldn't count them on two hands! He needs to 'climb the social ladder'? Be 'kept by a sugar mama'? What are you even thinking?" He pushed my unlocked phone back across the table, his eyes flicking to Leo's picture with growing annoyance. "You can see yourself out. We don't touch this guy. And I suggest you go get your head checked." 3 Before I went to the PI, I had prepared myself for every possibility. He was bored of me and wanted to break up. He’d fallen for someone else. He was tired of being poor and wanted a richer life. For each scenario, I was ready for a clean, dignified ending. But I had never, ever considered this. The three years we’d spent struggling together felt so real. How could I have known he was a top-tier trust fund baby, a notorious playboy who ran in the most elite circles? So, after leaving the investigator's office, I did something I rarely do. I splurged on a cab and went straight to The Sovereign, the most exclusive private club in the city. It was the place the “Sugar Mama” had demanded Leo meet her last night. I didn't have a plan. I just wanted… to ask why. I wanted a clean break, a quick and painless end. “Leo, come on, man. Before your mother gets here, let us apologize.” “It’s not that we didn’t want to help you back then. But your old man gave strict orders to cut you off and teach you a lesson. Our hands were tied!” “But you gotta admit, you’re a sly one. Your dad cut off all your funds, but he forgot about that pretty face of yours. Who would’ve thought you’d use your looks to snag a Cinderella who’d do anything for you?” “Forget experiencing hardship. Looks to me like you’ve been living the good life these past three years!” My hand froze on the door handle. I stood there, stunned, as their voices drifted out. An icy chill crept up my spine, freezing me in place. “But seriously, it’s been a month since your dad’s three-year ban was lifted. Why are you still sulking and not coming home?” “Yeah! Your mom called all of us here today just to get you to come back. You’re not actually planning to stay in that shithole apartment instead of your family’s mansion, are you?” “What’s up? Did you actually fall for the girl? Ready to settle down? Looks like your dad’s plan actually wor—” "Bullshit," Leo's voice, laced with resentment, cut through the chatter. "Ava is living proof of the most humiliating three years of my life. I can't wait to get rid of her and go back to my real life. But a poor girl like her… if she finds out who I really am, she’ll latch on and never let go. It's better to just… fade out. I'll give her a chunk of money when we break up, pay her back for taking care of me." 4 The warmth drained from my body. The room was blasting heat, enough to make me sweat in my down jacket, but I had never felt so cold. A deep, bone-chilling cold. Everything I hadn’t understood was now painfully clear. The question of “why” finally had its answer. I touched my cheek and my fingers came away wet. I hadn't even realized I was crying. "Miss? Are you looking for someone? Why are you crying?" A gentle voice asked from beside me. A woman in an elegant dress was looking at me with concern. The moment our eyes met, she gasped. "You're… Ava?" The conversation inside the room stopped abruptly. Less than a minute later, the door was thrown open. Leo stood there, his face a mask of panic. "Ava? What are you—" His eyes fell on the woman behind me, and his frantic expression froze. The hand he'd started to reach for me stopped mid-air. After a tense moment, it retreated, clenching into a fist at his side. His voice was heavy. "You brought her here?" he asked his mother. "No, it's a complete coincidence," Mrs. Anderson said with a soft, gentle smile. "But I've known about Ava for a long time. When your son is out 'finding himself,' a mother is going to keep tabs. I was actually quite pleased you were in a serious relationship for these three years. I thought you were just waiting for your father and me to extend an olive branch. Turns out, you were the one who couldn't find a way to step down gracefully." A bitter taste filled my mouth. I looked up at the man who was both a stranger and the person I knew most intimately. I forced a smile. "You know, Mr. Anderson, you really didn't have to go through all the trouble of freezing me out. A poor girl like me might be greedy, but I know my place. As long as the money's right, I guarantee I'll disappear without a fuss." 5 I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I tried to sound casual. "Let’s say, rent and living expenses for one year… fifty thousand dollars. Is that fair?" "Fifty times five is two hundred fifty thousand. So two years is two-hundred and fifty thousand." "Two-hundred and fifty thousand times twenty-five, for three years that’s six million two hundred fifty thousand." I paused, suddenly remembering Leo’s real estate job, where he never made a commission and only took home a three-thousand-dollar base salary each month. No wonder his sales were always at the bottom, and he was never fired, even after taking half a year off for his broken leg. He was the young heir, slumming it in the trenches of his own family’s company. "Your salary was low, but you were earning something for the last two years. So, I'll round down. Six million. How does that sound?" Honestly, I wanted to ask for sixty million. But Leo was a liar, not an idiot. An exorbitant demand was unrealistic. The truth was, putting a price on a relationship was fucking unrealistic in the first place. So—"Cash, check, or transfer? And can we settle this now? I don't do payment plans." A dead silence fell over the room and the hallway. Everyone was looking at Leo. He stared back at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. After a long moment, he looked down and let out a cold, humorless laugh. It was a laugh I’d never heard before—arrogant, sophisticated, and utterly foreign. "You're pretty good with numbers. Did your math teacher teach you how to rob people?" My heart plummeted, the pain sharp and real. But strangely, there was also a sense of release, of finality. I shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on my face. "My teacher didn't teach me how to rob, but he did teach me one thing: it's better to give a wrong answer than to leave it blank. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the past three years, Mr. Anderson?" He looked down on me. He never planned a future with me. But to make his three years of "poverty" more comfortable, he reeled me in anyway. "It's a cold winter. A broken heart makes it even colder. I'll need something new and warm to fill the void you've left. And having fun costs money. Don't you think?" 6 I lifted my chin, forcing down the wave of nausea and pain. My nails dug into my palms as I looked at him. I was surprised to see his expression had turned ugly, his eyes dark with a stormy anger. He looked… pissed? "Oh, right," I said, as if suddenly remembering. "Your assets probably aren't fully unfrozen yet. In that case… Mrs. Anderson?" Mrs. Anderson raised an eyebrow and glanced at her son's furious face. She smiled. "Are you sure you want to let such a wonderful girl go?" Leo’s jaw tightened, his throat working. A dark emotion flickered in his eyes before it was replaced by a cool, detached arrogance. "I've said it before. Taking over the company is my limit. Another ten years of this 'training' won't change who I am. I can't live a boring life tied to one person. It's too dull." A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I clenched my fists. Mrs. Anderson was still smiling, but now there was a knowing glint in her eyes. "Oh, is that so? What a shame." She took out her checkbook and began to write. "Well, if you lack ability and character, you can always work on that. But love… that's on you. You can screw it up however you want. As a parent, the only thing I can do…" She paused, her pen hovering over the check. Her eyes curved as she handed it to me. "…is to round up the six million you asked for to a nice, even ten. To add a little fuel to your fire this cold winter." Ten. Million. Honestly? The moment my fingers closed around that check, I felt a whole lot warmer. 7 I don’t know what normal poor people do when they suddenly get rich. Me? I went straight to the bank and cashed the check. Then I went back to my apartment and, in a silent, furious frenzy, I smashed everything that had ever belonged to him. Finally, standing in the wreckage, I looked at the rising sun and the balance in my bank account. Then I turned and walked out the door, right back to The Sovereign. "The strongest liquor, the biggest suite, the softest bed. And the hottest male escorts." I was back, but this time, I was a client. I looked at the line of men in front of me, took a deep breath, and picked the two most handsome ones. "You two for tonight. Get undressed and take a shower." They both looked stunned, then awkward. The most handsome one hesitated before politely apologizing. "I'm sorry, Ms. Miller, but… we're not that kind of escort." His words, completely unrelated to anything, hit me like a punch to the gut. I took a long swig of liquor, my laughter slurring. I stumbled over and poked his hard chest. "What's with the attitude? You're selling your company, I'm buying. Who are you to be picky? If you had a problem with it, you shouldn't have gotten involved with me in the first place…" He froze. Not because of my drunken, nonsensical rambling. But because I had started to cry. The tears just came, silent and unstoppable, hitting the floor and shattering the dam that had been holding back a day's worth of pain. I covered my face with one hand and finally let out a heart-wrenching sob. "Leo Anderson," I wailed. "You bastard!" 8 The next afternoon, the vibration of my phone woke me. My head throbbed with a dull hangover. I mumbled, rolled over, and nudged the person next to me. "Leo, can you get tha—" The words died in my throat. I stared at the handsome but completely unfamiliar face in front of me. Then I realized with a jolt that I was wedged between two men. The memories of last night came flooding back. Drunk, crying my eyes out in the arms of two male escorts. All night, just drinking and crying. I hadn't wanted anything else. I just wanted to be in the softest bed, held in warm, strong arms, to get through the pain of my breakup. That's all. The phone was still buzzing. One of the men frowned, mumbling in his sleep. I snapped out of it and answered the call, my voice raspy. "Hello?" There was a pause, then Leo’s cool voice came through the line. "You're not home. Where are you?" I frowned, the last dregs of sleep vanishing. Oh, right. I’d deleted him on social media but forgotten to block his number. "Is there something you need, Mr. Anderson?" He paused again, his voice growing heavier, his tone stiff. "I'm coming to get my things. Come back now. Immediately." 9 I was taken aback. He actually wanted to come back for that pile of junk? "I smashed it all. It's gone. Just buy new stuff, Mr. Anderson. If there's nothing else, I'm blocking you now." I'd taken his ten million and promised not to bother him. It was my fault for not deleting his number. I needed to make my position clear. Silence again, just the faint crackle of static. Then, his voice, cold and insistent. "Where… are—" The word was cut off as my phone, which hadn't been charged all night, died. I sighed and reflexively reached for a charging cable. But this wasn't my apartment. There was no outlet by the bed, no charger. Just warm, solid abs. A hand grabbed my wrist, and I was pulled into a firm embrace. The escort I'd woken up was now fully awake, his arms tightening around me. His voice was a lazy, magnetic purr. "If you like to touch, sister, feel free. Don't get someone else tonight, okay? I want to stay with you." I snuggled into a more comfortable position in his arms and smiled. "Don't be greedy. You have to give the other handsome guys at the club a chance." I suddenly understood Leo a little better. When you're just using each other with no intention of a future, sticking to just one person really is… boring. 10 I really didn't expect this. A club this big, and they only had seven male hosts who weren't prostitutes? At a rate of "two a night, a new pair every day," I ran into the handsome one again on the fourth day. Our eyes met, and I was so embarrassed I could have died. But he just smiled, his eyes crinkling, and tilted his head. "My name is Kane. It's a pleasure to serve you again, sister." "Ah, well, can you…" I rubbed my nose awkwardly. "Go downstairs and rent me a power bank? I didn't bring a charger." Kane blinked, then couldn't help but laugh. "Of course." The door opened and closed. I stood there, my hand on the doorknob, and covered my face. Just get through today, I told myself. Then it's over. Knock, knock. The door again. I figured Kane had forgotten something and pulled it open. But it was Leo's face, dark and furious, that greeted me. Kane was standing behind him, his face pale as he frantically shook his head at me. Alarm bells went off in my head. I tried to slam the door shut, but Leo stuck his leg out, blocking it. His eyes were burning holes into me as he let out a cold, biting laugh. "Are the arms of a male escort warm? So warm you can sleep with eight of them in four days? Ava, are you trying to self-destruct?" The bizarre accusation left me stunned. Leo didn't say another word. He just kicked the door open and stood there, looking down his nose at the remaining escort with icy disdain. "Are you waiting for a written invitation? Get out!"
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