Chapter 1

When I was twenty-eight, I became a sugar mama to a college boy.

Yeah, I was lonely, but honestly, it was mostly because he was flat broke.

He was balancing school and working nonstop just to cover his mom's medical bills.

I couldn't help myself—I felt like he was a stray puppy, so I brought him home.

Back then, he was all skin and bones, nothing like the glow he'd have as a top star later. Honestly, I couldn't even bring myself to touch him.

It took me a whole year to finally get him looking presentable.

The first night he tried to repay me, he lay in my arms and said, "I swear I'll pay you back one day."

Three years later, he was a superstar. But when the media asked, he said the most humiliating thing he'd ever done was hooking up with a rich woman for money three years ago. He called it his lifelong shame.

At that moment, I was in St. Anne's General Hospital, getting cancer treatment, watching him shine on TV, and flirting with some actress. I let out a bitter chuckle.

It turned out that this was what I got in return.

*****

I never expected that the last time I'd blow money in my life, I'd bump into him. I bought the concert tickets two weeks ago, right after I got out of St. Anne's General Hospital.

The doctor said I couldn't delay the surgery any longer, but I told him I'd think about it.

Think about what? I was just wondering where I could get 330 thousand dollars.

I sold my house, my car, and even the heirloom necklace my mom left me.

Celine Harper, my best friend, scraped together 33 thousand dollars for me, but it still wasn't enough. I thanked her and told her I'd already got the money together.

I told the nurse, "Just discharge me. I'm done with treatment."

I still had 33 thousand dollars left. That was enough for three months at the Oakview Inn, enough for painkillers, enough to go out with some dignity.

So I figured, why not be a little reckless one last time?

My favorite star was having a concert. I'd been a fan for ten years, but I'd never splurged on a front-row ticket.

This time, I did. Front row, 3,000 dollars.

Totally worth it.

I was bundled up in my scarf, sitting in the crowd, surrounded by young girls waving glowing signs and screaming at the top of their lungs.

I laughed with them, clapped, and sang along. No one here knew me, and this was my last bit of happiness anyway.

Then the lights went out.

The host's voice boomed with excitement. "Next up, let's welcome our special guest—Felix Wainwright!"

The glow stick dropped from my hand and hit the floor.

He stepped onto the stage.

A black suit, crisp white shirt, the top button casually undone.

The spotlight hit his face, and he looked even more handsome than he did two years ago, with a real aura about him. The youthful innocence in his eyes had vanished, replaced by something I couldn't quite describe.

The crowd screamed so loud, it felt like the roof might lift off.

"Felix! Felix! Felix!"

He smiled, lifted his hand to quiet everyone, and the whole place fell silent.

"Tonight, I'll sing an old song," he paused for a moment, "Because of Her."

My heart gave a jolt.

It was that song.

Back then, he'd just landed the lead role in a movie, and the theme song wasn't set yet.

He'd play the piano at home every day, tweaking the melody over and over, asking me, "What do you think of this line?" "Does this part feel a little off?"

I'd be sprawled on the couch, munching on chips, and just say, "The key's too high. You can't hit those notes. Lower it a bit."

And he actually did.

Later, that song became a nationwide hit, and he was showered with awards for that movie.

When reporters asked him about his inspiration, he just said, "Inspiration? It's hard to put into words."

Hard to put into words.

Now he was up on stage, bathed in brilliant lights, his voice low and magnetic.

"Because of her, I have a home. Because of her, I am who I am..."

I lowered my head, and my tears hit the back of my hand.

I hurriedly wiped them away.

No crying. What was there to cry about? It was all in the past.

After the song ended, he walked off the stage to thunderous applause.

I thought that was it, and finally breathed easy.

As the crowd started to leave, I pulled my scarf tighter and made my way out.

The place was packed, and my stomach hurt from all the pushing. I couldn't tell if it was just the crowd or the cancer acting up.

I held my stomach and slowly made my way to the bus stop, finally leaning against the sign, trying to catch my breath.

It was already past ten, so the last bus should be coming soon.

Suddenly, blinding headlights flashed in the distance.

A black Maybach sped straight toward me.

Panic shot through me. I stumbled back, my foot caught on something, and I went down hard.

The car screeched to a halt just half a meter away from me.

The car door swung open.

A long, lean leg stepped out of the car.

I looked up and locked eyes with that familiar face.

Felix.

He stood before me, towering at six foot two, gazing down from above.

The headlights behind him outlined his figure, making him look like he just stepped out of a movie scene.

And there I was, sitting on the ground, like some homeless person.