My cheapskate boyfriend hit the lottery when a billionaire showed up and claimed him as his long-lost son. Suddenly, he was a prince with a bottomless bank account. At the exact same time, my grandfather—the man who raised me by collecting cans and bottles—fell deathly ill. My new, wealthy boyfriend generously offered to pay for every last medical bill. But he used it as a leash. Every few days, he’d bring home a new woman. They treated me like the hired help, ordering me to cook their meals, do their chores, and give them massages. I wasn't just washing his clothes; I was washing his mistresses' lingerie. When I finally broke and stormed out, he went straight to the hospital and tormented my grandfather until the old man’s heart gave out. After the funeral, I walked right back to that mansion, clutching my grandfather’s memorial portrait. I brought the billionaire’s real son with me. “Your free trial of the good life is over,” I told him. “Now get out.” 1 The look on Leo’s face when he picked me up from the mall was the one he reserved for finding a moth in his wallet. “More shopping, Claire? You think my money grows on trees?” I ducked my head and said nothing. His money hadn’t grown on trees. It had fallen out of the sky and landed squarely on his head. It happened just after Memorial Day weekend. We were at a cheap ramen bar downtown when Leo got a call from a number he didn’t recognize. The man on the other end claimed to be his long-lost father and wanted to meet. Leo scoffed. “Get a life,” he muttered, and hung up. He poked at the bowl of noodles between us with his chopsticks, his brow furrowed in annoyance. After a moment of surgical searching, he managed to extract a slice of fatty pork belly and drop it into my bowl. “You love this stuff,” he said, a grand gesture. “Eat up.” The phone rang again. Same number. This time, Leo snatched it up, his voice tight with irritation. “Are you kidding me? There’s a limit to these scams, you asshole!” I kept my eyes on my bowl, but when the silence from his side of the table stretched on, I looked up. His expression was transforming, the anger melting away like ice on a hot skillet, replaced by a wide-eyed, slack-jawed awe. His entire posture shifted. “Oh,” he said, his voice suddenly slick and accommodating. “I see… Well, in that case, yes. Absolutely. We don’t have to wait for the weekend. I can be there tomorrow.” I found it strange. Leo’s father had passed away last fall, right after Labor Day. Where had this “long-lost” dad suddenly materialized from? I would learn later that Leo’s sudden change of heart was due to one critical detail: the man on the phone was a fifty-something, bona fide tycoon. The next day, after visiting my grandfather at the hospital, I went with him to the address he’d been given. It was the Sterling Tower, a gleaming monument of glass and steel that housed one of the city’s most prestigious corporations. To even get an entry-level job here, you needed an Ivy League degree and a miracle. It was the kind of place people bled for a chance to get into. Leo used to joke that if he ever landed a job at Sterling Corp, he’d go to his dad’s grave and thank him personally. A man in a perfectly tailored suit was waiting by the revolving doors. He approached us with a polite, practiced smile. “Mr. Leo Vance?” he asked, his voice smooth. “I am Mr. Sterling’s assistant.” Leo’s eyes were practically vibrating with excitement. “Yes, yes! That’s me!” The man gestured for him to follow, leading him toward the entrance. But as I moved to go with them, a security guard stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Ma’am, access is restricted to employees and scheduled appointments. Are you on the list?” A flush of panic washed over me. I pointed a shaky finger at Leo’s retreating back. “I’m with him.” But Leo was already completely absorbed, hanging on the assistant’s every word, oblivious to my predicament. I called his name, once, then twice. He didn’t even glance back. I could only watch as the two of them stepped into a waiting elevator, the polished brass doors sliding shut. It was the middle of the morning rush, and I could feel the curious, pitying stares of employees hurrying past. The guard remained planted in front of me, his expression unyielding. Outside, the summer sun was beating down, turning the sidewalk into a furnace. I had no choice but to find a sliver of shade on a nearby planter and wait. Three hours passed. Finally, Leo emerged, flanked by a phalanx of security guards. The assistant was right behind him. I stood up, about to call out, when a gleaming Rolls-Royce Phantom purred to a stop at the curb. Leo’s eyes went wide, his jaw agape. One of the guards opened the rear door for him. “Leo,” I called, my voice thin in the city air. He turned and saw me, a flicker of something—annoyance? inconvenience?—crossing his face before being replaced by a manic grin. I started toward him, but he just held up a hand, a dismissive gesture. “Hey, you should just head home,” he said, already sliding into the plush leather interior. “Something’s come up. I’ll call you later.” And with that, he was gone, the silent, powerful car pulling away from the curb, leaving me alone under the oppressive glare of the midday sun. 2 Leo stumbled in after midnight, drunk and laden with shopping bags from every high-end designer on Fifth Avenue. He dropped them unceremoniously at my feet. “Your man is rich now, Claire!” he slurred, beaming. “It’s all for you!” I sighed, looking at the pile of logos and tissue paper on the floor before helping him to the sofa. I handed him a glass of water, but he waved it away. “What, you don’t like it? Not expensive enough for you?” he demanded, his words thick. “What happened today, Leo? After you left the tower?” A goofy, triumphant grin spread across his face. “The birthmark on my back—it matched his description perfectly. I’m the son of a billionaire, Claire. I’m his heir!” A cold knot formed in my stomach. “And what about your dad? What about Mr. Vance?” He shrugged, a dismissive flick of his hand. “He must have been my adoptive father. He’s dead and gone, who cares?” Mr. Vance had worked himself to the bone, saving every penny to put Leo through college. He’d passed away from a sudden illness before he ever had a chance to enjoy a moment of rest. And now, he was just… an adoptive father. I kept my voice level. “Did you do a DNA test?” “A DNA test? Why would I need that? They saw the birthmark. His whole team saw it. I’m the Sterling heir!” He was high on the fantasy, and nothing I said was going to bring him down. I quietly gathered the designer bags from the floor, stacked them against the wall, and went to my room. A week later, Leo was moved into a sprawling mansion the Sterlings had purchased just for him. Before he left, he promised he’d scope things out and come back for me once he was settled. That night, I got a call from the hospital. My grandfather’s condition had taken a sharp turn for the worse. He needed immediate, intensive treatment, and the cost was staggering. I felt the world tilt under my feet. I pulled out my life’s savings, counting the bills over and over, the number falling desperately, painfully short. With no other options, I thought of Leo, living his new life of unimaginable luxury. My hands were trembling as I dialed his number. I cried as it rang, once, twice, thirteen times before he finally picked up. “Leo,” I choked out, “Grandpa… he needs over two hundred thousand dollars for treatment, right away. I don’t have it. Can you… can you please help me?” To my shock, he agreed without a moment’s hesitation. He told me not to worry, that he would cover all of my grandfather’s subsequent medical expenses. Relief washed over me, so powerful it made me dizzy. Just as I was about to thank him, he added, “I’ll send a car to pick you up in three days. You’re moving in with me.” After we hung up, a wave of guilt hit me. Maybe I had been too quick to judge him, too cynical. Maybe this new life hadn't corrupted him after all. For the next three days, I spent every moment I wasn't at my job by my grandfather’s bedside. The third day came. At seven in the morning, I was waiting at the corner with my suitcases packed. An hour passed. Then two. The sun climbed higher, beating down on the pavement. Finally, a sleek black Bentley pulled up. Leo didn’t get out to help me with my bags. He just lowered the passenger-side window and tossed two tubes of designer lipstick into my lap. “For you,” he said. In that moment, it didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a handout. A cold, unsettling feeling coiled in my gut. When we arrived at the suburban mansion, he strode ahead, leaving me to struggle with my luggage. The security guards at the gate, already informed of my status as his girlfriend, rushed over to help. For a while, life was strangely surreal. A private driver took me to and from work every day. Leo, meanwhile, had quit his job selling tea and spent his days lounging around the mansion. That weekend, he took me to a high-end restaurant for the first time. As I sat there, mentally calculating how I could ever begin to pay him back, a notification popped up on my phone from my company’s HR department. I opened it. The bold, stark headline made my head spin. NOTICE OF EMPLOYMENT TERMINATION I struggled to keep my composure. “Leo,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been laid off.” He was busy taking a picture of his wine glass, the light glinting off the expensive crystal. “So what?” he said, not even looking at me. “It was a dead-end job anyway. Once we’re married, all you need to worry about is giving me a few sons.” A little later, a text came through from a friendly colleague. Hey, are you pregnant? I stared at the message, confused. Why would you ask that? Her reply came back instantly. I saw your boyfriend at the office handling your termination paperwork. Just figured you were leaving to start a family. My fingers tightened around my phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. 3 Leo was out again, drinking with the new, sycophantic friends his money had bought him. I sat in the vast, silent living room and waited. He’d never been this late before. It was nearly three in the morning when I heard a car door slam in the driveway. I pulled open the front door, ready to confront him, and froze. He wasn’t alone. A woman in a skin-tight tube dress was pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his neck. The collar of Leo’s shirt was wide open, revealing two faint scratch marks on his chest and the garish, smudged imprint of bright red lipstick. His hands were roaming freely over her body. The woman’s eyes widened slightly when she saw me. I clenched my jaw, stepped forward, and pulled Leo away from her, intending to shut the door in her face. But she was too fast, wedging her foot in the doorway. She looked me up and down with a smirk. “You must be the maid,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “You can go. The young master only needs me tonight.” I ignored her, letting go of Leo and fixing my gaze on him. “Why did you get me fired?” He wasn’t completely drunk. He could still think. “I told you. Your only job is to stay home and have my children. You don’t need to worry about anything else.” I fought to keep the rage from my voice. I pointed at the woman draped over him. “Then what is this?” His next words struck me like a physical blow. “I’m the heir to the Sterling fortune now, Claire. What’s the big deal if I have a few women on the side?” I started to shout, but he just pulled the woman closer, his voice a low, menacing slur. “Your grandfather is still in the hospital, Claire. Don’t make me angry. I’m not sure the old man’s heart could take the stress.” The threat hung in the air, sharp and poisonous. I froze, a chill seeping deep into my bones. He had taken the one thing I had begged him for—my grandfather’s life—and twisted it into a leash. Pleased with my stunned silence, he and his lover stumbled past me and up the stairs. If I fought back, if I left, the hospital would stop the treatment. I dug my fingernails into my palms, telling myself over and over again to endure it. Just endure it. I didn’t sleep a wink. At nine the next morning, Leo came downstairs, showered and dressed. He addressed the household staff with an air of authority. “I’m not used to being waited on. All of you can go back to the main estate and take care of my father.” Once they had gone, the mansion fell silent. He started up the stairs, then paused halfway and spoke without turning around. “Go buy a box of morning-after pills.” I stared at his back. From the bedroom above, I heard the woman’s cloying voice. “Leo, honey, where did you go?” I left without a word and took a taxi to the nearest pharmacy. I grabbed a box of Plan B and was paying at the counter when I heard a familiar voice. “Claire? What are you doing here?” It was my former colleague. I forced a smile, staying silent. Her eyes lit up with the insatiable curiosity of a gossip. “Oh my god, I heard your boyfriend is a billionaire’s son! Are you marrying into the family? Hey, what’d you buy?” Her questions felt like nails hammering into my skull. As soon as the clerk handed me the bag, I fled the pharmacy. Back at the mansion, the sounds of their laughter and flirtation echoed from the second floor. I walked up the stairs, my legs feeling like lead. The bedroom door was ajar. The woman was lying in his arms, her clothes in disarray, a look of sultry satisfaction on her face. When she saw me, a flicker of amusement crossed her features. I tossed the bag onto the bed. The woman saw the box of pills and immediately turned to Leo, her voice a childish whine. “But Leo, I don’t want to take this. I want to have your baby…” 4 I backed out of the room, my hand pressed against the cool wall for support. As I reached the top of the stairs, the world swam before my eyes and I nearly pitched forward. Footsteps approached from behind. It was Leo. He threw a pile of dirty clothes at me. They hit my chest with a soft thud, reeking of stale alcohol and a woman’s cheap, cloying perfume. “Wash these,” he commanded. My lips were pressed into a thin, white line. I carried the bundle to the laundry room downstairs. Mixed in with his clothes were her things. Her dress, her lace underwear. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I had to fight the urge to vomit. After that day, Leo took my phone, cutting me off from the outside world. Every three days, like clockwork, he brought a new woman home. They used my old bedroom, the master suite, forcing me to move into a small guest room down the hall. And after they were finished, he would make me wash their clothes by hand. One evening, he took me to the main Sterling estate for dinner with the old tycoon. For my grandfather’s sake, I plastered on a smile and played the part of the devoted girlfriend. After the meal, everyone began to leave. The old man went for a walk in the garden. I was waiting by the front door, but Leo was nowhere to be seen. I went back inside to look for him and found him in the corner of the grand staircase, cornering a new housemaid. She was young, maybe twenty, with a curvy figure and a blush that was spreading rapidly across her cheeks. Leo was leaning in close, murmuring the kind of sweet nothings that cost him nothing. The girl, far from resisting, seemed to be pressing herself closer to him. I turned away in silence. Ten minutes later, I saw her emerge from the house, nestled shyly against Leo’s side as she followed him to the car and slid into the passenger seat. The entire drive back to the mansion, their laughter filled the car. I sat in the back, invisible, a ghost in my own life. They were all over each other the moment they stepped through the front door, barely making it to the sofa. I retreated to the second-floor study like a rat scurrying back to its hole. I closed the door, but I could still hear the sounds of their passion from the living room below. I sat at the large mahogany desk, listening to their moans, my hands clenching a book so tightly the cover began to wrinkle and tear. I must have fallen asleep there, because the next thing I knew, Leo was shouting my name, his voice sharp with impatience. Fearing another outburst, I rushed out of the study. He pointed toward the laundry room, where a new pile of dirty clothes sat waiting. Then he turned, scooped the girl from the sofa into his arms, and kissed her forehead. “Be good, baby. I’ve got to run an errand. I’ll be back soon.” After he left, it was just me and the girl. Her sweet, shy demeanor vanished instantly. She lounged on the sofa and barked at me. “What are you looking at? The young master told you to take care of me.” I gritted my teeth. “I have to do the laundry.” She leaned back, stretching like a cat. “After a night like that, my whole body is sore. Come here and give me a massage.” I stopped in my tracks. Her eyes met mine, glinting with challenge. I walked over to her, but as I reached out, she scoffed. “What, you think a servant gets to stand? Kneel. Rub my legs.” My jaw ached from clenching it so hard. I sank to my knees on the cold marble floor. As I began to massage her calves, she suddenly kicked out, her heel digging hard into my stomach. I gasped, stumbling backward and collapsing onto the floor, clutching my abdomen as pain radiated through me. She looked down at me, her face a mask of triumph. “So what if you’re his girlfriend in name? Whoever the master wants is the real mistress of this house.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “He brings home a different woman every week. What makes you think you’re anything special?” Her face contorted with rage. She stood up to strike me, the sudden movement causing the sofa to shift slightly. With a soft clatter, a small, rectangular object fell from between the cushions. We both looked down. It was my phone. After being cut off for so long, I had no idea what was happening with Grandpa. I scrambled for it, my fingers fumbling as I pressed the power button. The screen flickered to life, displaying a low battery warning: less than 10%. Immediately, the screen was flooded with notifications. More than twenty missed calls and a cascade of text messages. The number… it was the hospital. All of them. My heart hammering against my ribs, I dialed back. It rang several times before someone picked up. A doctor began speaking, his voice a calm, professional drone, but I only heard the final sentence clearly. “…Ms. Evans, we regret to inform you that due to a failure to receive timely treatment, your grandfather passed away one week ago.” The words hit me like a physical blow. Then, the doctor added one more thing. “His condition deteriorated rapidly right after the funding for his treatment was unexpectedly terminated…” The phone slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the marble floor. My eyes were burning, but I couldn’t process it. It couldn’t be real. The girl, seeing my state, let out a cruel laugh. “What’s wrong? Let me guess. Did something happen to your precious old man?” Those last words sliced through the fog of my shock and grief. A white-hot rage erupted inside me. I lunged forward, shoving her so hard she tumbled back onto the sofa. She stared at me, stunned. “You—” Just then, the front door opened. Leo’s voice, cheerful and sickeningly familiar, filled the entryway.
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