Chapter 1

A friend sent me the photos of Alexander Reed's infidelity, along with a gentle reminder.

She said, "Just keep this to yourself; don't make a scene.

"We who live like mistresses should know our place.

"That's how we show we understand the rules."

I stared at the photo for a long time, then nodded softly.

I answered, "Yeah, I know.

I won't make a fuss."

In the photo, Alexander's hand, with sharp knuckles and bulging veins, was locked around Lily's slim waist, radiating pure possessiveness.

I kept zooming in and out, obsessively staring at the picture hundreds of times, torturing myself with every detail.

Eventually, my heart ached until it went numb, and I drifted off in a haze, still clutching my phone.

When I woke up again, the bedroom was pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight tracing Alexander's chiseled profile.

A faint whiff of alcohol hung in the air.

I sat up, my voice gentle as I asked, "When did you get here? I'll make you some hangover soup."

Alexander didn't move; his lips pressed into a thin line.

I froze, only then realizing he was holding my phone.

I felt a flicker of panic.

Usually, whenever my girlfriends sent me something, I'd always be careful to delete the chat history right away.

Lately, I just didn't have it in me to care, and ended up dozing off without even deleting anything.

Alexander knew my phone password.

Now, the chat history was right there on the screen, plain as day.

I leaned forward, trying to snatch my phone back.

Alexander lifted his hand, and the next second, the blinding chandelier snapped on.

In his eyes, I could see the reflection of my own red, swollen eyes.

His gaze flickered with a trace of compassion, but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by his usual cold indifference.

Then he spoke, his voice heavy and low, "I don't owe you an explanation about what's going on between us."

Even after spending the whole afternoon steeling myself, hearing Alexander say those words still sent a dull, lingering ache through my heart.

I nodded gently, swallowing back my tears, and tilted my head up to meet his eyes. I asked, "Yeah, I know. Do you want me to make you some hangover soup now?"

Alexander's gaze settled on my face. He was a seasoned businessman, used to seeing through people's masks and hidden agendas. Right now, he was trying to catch any trace of emotion in my eyes.

But all he found was nothing but calm clarity.

For a moment, I actually caught a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He rubbed his brow, looking weary.

"Go on. Just focus on what you're supposed to do. I'll take care of everything else," he said.

I nodded.

Once the hangover soup was ready, I was about to head back to the bedroom when Alexander called out to me.

"Winona, sit down and watch me drink it," he said.

Maybe it was because his parents split up when he was young, but Alexander couldn't stand eating or sleeping alone.

Out in public, he was all cold, aloof, and self-controlled.

But behind closed doors, he was actually someone who craved company.

I sat quietly in front of him, picked up my phone, and deleted the chat history.

"Wow, I didn't know you girls had your own little club. What is it? Do you swap tips and hold networking sessions?" Alexander sneered.

My hand froze. Shame crashed over me, stinging like a slap to the face. My heart throbbed with a dull ache.

When I was a sophomore, Alexander had me drop out of college and move into his villa.

He was always busy with work, so he didn't come by every day.

Sometimes, when I was bored, I'd wander around the villa complex, and some well-dressed girls would greet me.

One of them asked, "So, which sugar daddy are you with?"

That's when I found out this whole villa complex was nicknamed the mistress district by outsiders.

"Most of the girls living here are just sugar babies, you know. Some move out of one villa and end up in another just days later," she said.

I shook my head, flustered and embarrassed.

"I, maybe I'm not like that," I said.

She stifled a laugh behind her hand.

"Girl, you don't seriously think you're his girlfriend, do you?" she asked.

Her words cut deep.

I really did think Alexander and I were actually dating.

I was convinced I was the only woman in his life.

He told me to drop out because his status was way too high-profile; it would cause too much gossip if he kept coming to campus.

I was still wrapped up in my own little daydream.

The woman asked again, "So, how much does he give you every month?"

I froze, as she'd just ripped away my last bit of pretense. My face flushed hot with embarrassment.

Yeah, this was nothing like a real relationship.

Alexander covered thirty grand a month for my mom's ICU bills, plus another thirty grand for my own living expenses.

The woman eagerly added me as a friend and invited me into their group chat.

She explained, "This is our support group for girls like us. We share important info, look out for each other, and make sure none of us gets screwed over.

"You're with Mr. Reed? Girl, you hit the jackpot. He's hot, ruthless in business, and doesn't fool around with other women, so you don't have to worry about catching anything. Just saying, he does have a pretty intimidating vibe."

"He's not scary," I mumbled.

In the group chat, the girls would share all kinds of tricks for pleasing their sugar daddies, like which pajama brands were the sexiest, or what to say to make their men feel even more possessive.

Thinking about it now, it really did feel like we were trading secrets like pros.