Chapter 1

I was a devoted pet.

I had a slim, curvy waist, a gentle demeanor, a full figure, and never a single complaint.

Dylan Fletcher, insanely powerful, pampered me and loved me like I was his whole world.

Until one day, I overheard a conversation between him and his friend.

"Dylan, Kayla's about to return. What are you going to do with your pet?" his friend said.

"A pet's just for amusement," Dylan sneered. "When Kayla's back, I'll naturally get rid of her."

That was when I realized that I was just a substitute.

Dylan's beloved was coming home, and my good times were about to end.

But little did they know that I was never here for love, only for money.

After four years as a pet, I'd made enough cash.

Now, I was finally free to run away and study abroad.

*****

The words I'd overheard kept replaying in my mind.

My heart was pounding out of control. It turned out that all those years Dylan Fletcher pretended to care about me were nothing but a show.

To them, I was just a plaything, something they could trade or share whenever they felt like it.

I ducked back into the walk-in closet, grinning at my wall of Hermès bags. "Guess all those years of raising Hermès are finally paying off, time to put them to work for me," I laughed.

I wasted no time reaching out to a secondhand reseller, ready to turn my entire wall of Hermès into cold, hard cash.

I was an arts student with piano as my specialty.

My family had nothing, but I was crazy talented, so I got into college on a special scholarship for gifted students.

But right after I started college, my grandma, the one who raised me, got sick.

I went deep into debt trying to save her.

Still, in the end, she passed away.

I almost had to drop out of college just to pay off my debts, and that was when Dylan came into my life.

For the cash, I played the part of a shallow beauty, vain, brainless, and acting like my whole world would fall apart without him.

Four years passed just like that.

Now, I'd finally saved up enough money to go study abroad. I could finally break free.

I was scrambling to get everything ready for my move overseas.

That night, Dylan came home, reeking of alcohol.

Almost by instinct, I slipped up to him, my voice so sweet that it could make sugar jealous, fussing over him and asking if he needed anything.

For four years, I'd dutifully played the role of his personal haven, always there to pamper and comfort him.

Dylan stumbled in, eyes unfocused and reeking of booze, then yanked me into his arms and slurred, "Kiss me."

Just like always, I lifted my face to him, ready to do whatever he wanted.

But instead of my name, he whispered with heartbreaking tenderness, "Kiki."

My body went stiff for a second. I dropped my gaze, hiding the storm of emotions swirling in my eyes.

For four years, Dylan had always called me Kiki.

I'd tried to set him straight, told him my name was Kylie Lennon, so he should be calling me Kylie.

But he'd just run his hand through my hair and say, "Everyone else calls you Kylie, but I call you Kiki. That's something special between us."

Back then, I bought it. I really thought it meant he loved me.

Now, I realized what a joke that was.

A sick feeling crawled up my throat, but I forced myself to keep up the act and respond to his affection.

Until I could make my escape overseas, I still had to keep my sugar daddy happy.

It was one reckless, messed-up night.

The next morning, I woke up with a sore waist, wincing as I sat up. Dylan was already by the bed, adjusting his cuffs.

But today, he looked different, cold, distant, and even a hint of disgust in his eyes.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes inside. Honestly, I was not the one who should be feeling grossed out here.

I watched him having trouble with his tie, unable to get it right.

I got out of bed and went over to fix it for him.

But Dylan jerked back like I'd shocked him, his voice sharp as he snapped, "Don't touch me."

My hand froze in midair.

I put on a wounded look, pouting and cooed, "Dylan, why are you acting this way?"

He caught himself, face totally blank, then casually pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it onto the floor. "Payment for last night."

It had been ages since he'd spelled it out this plainly, just a straight-up cash-for-sex arrangement between us.

There was a jumble of feelings I couldn't even sort out, but I played the gold-digger to the hilt, gushing thanks like I couldn't get enough.

Dylan let out a mocking laugh and turned to leave.

He tossed out, "Be ready this afternoon. I'll have the driver pick you up."

I stared at the black card, thinking sarcastically to myself.

How stingy could he get? Would've been easier if he'd just handed me a check. Now I had to jump through hoops just to turn this thing into cash.

As soon as Dylan left, I reached out to my professor, the one who'd been inviting me to study abroad, and told him I was hoping to enroll this fall.

He replied right away, clearly excited.

I had just three more months to tough it out.