Chapter 1

I had been with Ethan Whitmore for six years.

One day, he handed me an agreement.

I assumed it was a prenup. I had just picked up the pen to sign when I saw the title.

Mistress Agreement

Three-year term. He would decide when we met and whether to renew.

My fingers trembled. “Ethan, what is this supposed to mean?”

He lit a cigarette without even looking at me.

“The company needs this marriage. My grandfather has already chosen someone for me. Her family has just as much money and status as ours. I have to get married.”

“Then what about me?” My voice came out hoarse.

He looked up, a smile at the corner of his mouth, as though he hadn’t heard the pain in my voice.

“Babe, be fair to me.”

“Your dad walked out on you and your mom, and you still pay for his care. Your ex used you and dumped you, and you still helped him pay off his debts.”

“All I’m asking is for you to become my secret mistress. That’s not so unreasonable, is it?”

So for six years, I had been nothing more than a pet to him.

Something to play with when he felt like it. Something whose feelings he could ignore when he didn’t.

But Ethan, if this is how you’re going to treat me, I’ll make you pay.

****

Every clause was there in black and white.

“When Ethan contacts you, you must meet him as requested. You may not ask about his schedule or private life.”

“In public, you may not initiate hugs, kisses, or any other physical contact that could reveal your intimate relationship with Ethan.”

“If you become pregnant during the term of this agreement, you must deal with it yourself…”

I stared at the last clause. My hand moved instinctively to my lower abdomen, my fingertips cold.

Ethan leaned back on the sofa, smoking.

He glanced at me.

“Sign it.” He flicked the ash from his cigarette. “What are you waiting for?”

I set the agreement down.

My voice shook with anger. “Ethan…we’ve been together for six years!”

“And?” He laughed. “Six years, and you’re still not my wife, are you?”

He knew I had been waiting for him to propose.

Now he was using it to mock me.

Yes. Six years.

He had taken me to countless family dinners. He had never tried to hide me.

But he always introduced me the same way.

“My assistant.”

Perhaps his mother had guessed what was going on between us. More than once, she had hinted, “You should think about getting married and having children. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to find the right person.”

I had thought she wanted Ethan and me to get married.

Now I understood. She simply didn’t want to say it outright.

She was waiting for me to realize it was time to leave.

“Then what did these six years mean?” I asked.

Ethan stubbed out his cigarette, stood, and walked over to me.

“We both wanted it.”

He reached out and brushed his thumb over my lips.

“Claire Bennett, you kept me company for six years. I supported you for six years. How many of your dad’s medical bills could you have paid with that little salary of yours? Those tens of thousands your ex owed? Didn’t you pay them off with my card?”

He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting again.

“Babe, be fair. You didn’t hesitate to spend my money. What I’m doing now is just a fair exchange.”

My eyes burned, but not a single tear fell.

He had never said these things before.

That didn’t make them untrue.

My father really had abandoned my mother and me. When he got old and sick, he came back asking for my help.

I couldn’t bring myself to turn him away. Paying for his treatment had drained my savings.

As for my ex…

He was just a man I had dated for a month before we broke up because we weren’t compatible.

I hadn’t known he had secretly used my Social Security number and personal information to take out loans until debt collectors showed up at my office.

Ethan had stepped in and dealt with it.

I knew I owed him. I just hadn’t imagined he was keeping track of every dollar.

“So…” I pushed his hand away. “You’re saying you felt nothing for me these past six years? That I was just an investment?”

Ethan laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. What could I possibly gain by investing in you?”

He took out a bank card and placed it beside the agreement.

“There’s seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the account. Sign, and it’s yours.”

“Be my mistress for three years. After that, if you want to continue, we continue. If you don’t, the money is still yours.”

I looked down at the card.

Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Enough to pay back everything I owed him.

Not enough to buy me.

I almost said it several times, but the words never left my mouth.

Because I thought of the bills from my father’s private care facility.

If I didn’t pay soon, they would send him home.

Ethan knew I couldn’t afford it.

That was why he could toss the card in front of me so casually.

Like throwing a piece of bread to a beggar on the street.

He knew I needed money. He was waiting for me to accept his terms.

“Well?” When I still didn’t move, he lit another cigarette. “Not enough?”

I said nothing.

“Fair enough. After six years with me, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars isn’t much.”

He blew smoke into my face, making my eyes sting.

“But that’s what I pay a mistress, not a girlfriend. That’s what you’re worth now.”

He paused and smiled at me.

“Of course, you can refuse. But if you do, you can’t keep living in this apartment.”

My chest tightened.

For six years, I had thought of this place as home.

I had tended every succulent on the balcony myself. The spice jars in the kitchen were arranged the way I liked them.

Our photo had always stood on the nightstand.

I had thought this was our home.

In the end, I was just a tenant he could throw out whenever he wanted.

“Ethan…” My voice was still shaking. “If you don’t love me anymore, we can break up peacefully. There’s no need to humiliate me like this.”

“Love?” He repeated the word as though it amused him. “Claire, does your father care about you?”

“Did your ex love you?”

“When you gave those people everything you had, did any of them care about you?”

He kept pushing.

Kept trying to make me admit that the people I had worked so hard to keep in my life could leave whenever they wanted.

“I suppose they did,” he answered himself, his voice suddenly quieter. “At least at one point.”

My tears finally fell.

Not because his words were cruel.

But because, for a moment, I thought he was right.

“Are you signing or not?” He held out the pen, unwilling to wait any longer.

I took it.

I turned to page two, clause five.

If you become pregnant during the term of this agreement, you must deal with it yourself…

My hand paused.

Ethan added, in the same tone he had used for every other clause, “Don’t worry. I won’t get you pregnant. My fiancée’s family is very traditional. I can’t have a child with another woman before we’re married.”

Fiancée.

The word I had wanted for so long.

It had never once belonged to me.

“Ethan, what if I told you I’m already…”

I stopped before I could finish.

Forget it.

What difference would it make?

I lowered my eyes and spoke quietly.

“What if I told you my mother and I have already chosen a wedding date for me early next month? Would you still make me sign this?”

“Your mother?” He laughed. “Your useless mother drowned herself. Who exactly have you been talking to?”

He exhaled slowly. Through the smoke, I couldn’t make out his expression.

“Even without any of this, I wasn’t planning to get married so soon.”

“Early next month? You really do live in a fantasy.”

I closed my eyes.

Six years.

We were both almost thirty.

Getting married at our age was hardly rushing things.

The wedding would never happen because he had never intended to marry me.

When I opened my eyes, my fingers had stopped trembling.

I signed the last page.

“Good girl.”

Ethan picked up the agreement, checked my signature, and smiled.

“Everything stays the same. The only difference is that, from now on, you’ll call me ‘sir.’”

He leaned down and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead.

“That’s my girl.”

Then he left.

The door closed softly. I looked down at the bank card.

Slowly, I crouched and buried my face in my knees.

Outside, it began to rain.

As hard as it had the night he brought me in from the rain six years ago.

Back then, he had held an umbrella over me and brought me home.

Now he wanted to throw me out of that home.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there.

My legs went numb. My tears ran dry.

I slowly stood, went to the bathroom, and turned on the faucet.

I splashed cold water on my face until I looked calm again.

Then I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

“Mom, you were right. I lost.”

“That thing you mentioned before…there’s no need to wait anymore. I’m ready.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Are you sure? Once we start, there’s no going back.”

I looked out the window.

“I’m sure.”