After Gavin York went bankrupt, I got downgraded from a high-flying sugar baby to a broke girlfriend on a $500 monthly allowance. The girls in the group chat told me to bail and find a new whale. I didn't listen. No matter how hard it got, I stuck by him. Ride or die, baby. Eventually, Gavin staged a legendary comeback. His net worth didn't just recover; it tripled. On the day I was packing up to leave, the tall, imposing man sat in my tiny apartment, looking surprisingly cheerful. "Our contract might be up, June, but I’m granting you one wish. Anything you want, I’ll make it happen." I was shocked and thrilled. "Okay, I want a 3,000-square-foot penthouse in downtown Manhattan." "And?" "That’s it." Gavin’s smile vanished. He hid the velvet ring box behind his back, his face darkening by the second. "...That’s it?" 1 "W-well, what else should there be?" I felt a chill. Gavin looked pissed. I shrank back into the sofa, putting some distance between us. "Um... maybe you could prepay fifty years of HOA fees?" Gavin took a deep breath, his thick brows knitting together in a scowl. "June Carter, are you trying to insult me?" Fair point. He was loaded now. Asking for a mere luxury condo was probably like asking for pocket change. It was insulting to his net worth. I decided to be honest. "Sorry, look, I don't plan on getting married. Ever. So, it’s just going to be me and maybe a dog in the future. That much space is plenty." Gavin choked. The hand he’d been hiding behind his back suddenly jammed into his pocket, leaving his Patek Philippe watch exposed and gleaming. His voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures. "Coincidence. I don't plan on getting married either." "I agree to your terms. The contract is terminated. I’ll wire an extra 2.5 million to your account as a severance package. Thanks for your... service." So generous! I beamed, completely missing the sarcasm in his first sentence. "Thanks, Gavin! You're the best!" He pressed his lips into a thin line, not saying a word. When he stormed out, he slammed the door so hard the trash can in the hallway rattled. 2 I happily shared the news in the group chat. I didn't have many real friends. The "girls" were just the plus-ones of Gavin's elite circle. [Richie’s Brat: June, are you dumb? That was your chance to lock down the wife title! You fumbled the bag hard.] [Fake Heiress: Next time you want to brag about fumbling a billionaire, keep it to yourself. You’re stressing me out.] [Crypto Queen: Wait, so you secured the bag with zero side effects? Teach me.] Only [Leo’s Mom (Sugar Daddy Edition)] was reading between the lines: [The Vance family has been trying to merge with Gavin’s empire for ages. I heard they had dinner last week. An engagement is probably imminent.] [Also, Gavin is ruthless. He drove his own brother to bankruptcy. June wouldn't dare ask for too much. She’d end up in jail.] Me: [Exactly! He looked so scary when he left! T_T] They all knew Gavin York was impossible to handle. Handsome, rich, but with a temper from hell and more rules than the military. And his stamina... let’s just say he used to leave me walking funny for days. It was grueling. But back then, I was a professional sugar baby. I endured it for the money. Then came the news of his bankruptcy. "June, you should go. I’m broke," he’d said, standing in the rain in a wrinkled suit, looking like a kicked puppy abandoned by the world. I really did want to leave. But my brain did a quick ROI calculation. A guy like Gavin doesn't stay down. If I helped him when he was at rock bottom, he’d owe me for life when he bounced back. Plus, with his brain, he’d be rich again in no time. It was a better bet than going back to waiting tables. So, I pulled my foot back from the door. I tested the waters. "...Actually, I sold some of the Hermès bags you gave me and bought a small studio apartment." "Gavin, do you want to come home with me?" He nodded slowly. So, I dragged him back to my 600-square-foot shoe box. We made three new rules, appended to our old contract: While broke, Gavin doesn't eat for free. Manual labor covers rent. No temper tantrums. My house, my rules. If he pissed me off, he slept in the bathtub. That first night, Gavin devoured a bowl of mac and cheese like it was Michelin-star dining. He even licked the spoon. Then, miracle of miracles, he did the dishes. Quiet as a mouse. In the middle of the night, however, he pressed me into the flimsy mattress until the springs screamed for mercy. I protested this abuse of power. "Easy! If the bed breaks, we can't afford a new one!" I tried to kick him, but he caught my ankle. He kissed his way up my leg, his breath hot, his voice trembling with a vulnerability I’d never heard before. "June... thank you for still loving me." "I swear, I won't let you live this life for long." My dream had always been simple: a place of my own, hot food, and safety. I didn't think this life was hard. But Gavin seemed to misunderstand. Whatever. At least he looked motivated again. The fire was back in his eyes. 3 Gavin kicked the trash can on his way out and dented it. I carried the sad, crumpled metal downstairs. There was an old man on the first floor with mild dementia who collected scraps. He eyed the trash can like it was gold. Feeling generous, I gave it to him. Just then, my phone buzzed. Notification from the bank. Gavin had wired me money. But his hand must have slipped, because instead of 2.5 million, he sent $5,200,000. I froze. I remembered reading legal advice online: large, unexplained transfers could be recalled or used to sue for extortion. I kept what was promised and immediately wired back the extra $2,700,000. He didn't accept the transfer. I texted him: [Gavin, you sent too much. I sent the difference back.] [Message Not Delivered. You have been blocked by this user.] I stared at the red exclamation mark. The petty man blocked me. Fine. He got moody like this sometimes. I decided to leave him alone. Several days passed. Gavin didn't show up. I enjoyed the peace. I deep-cleaned the apartment. I scrolled through Zillow looking at interior designs for my future penthouse. But a week went by, and still nothing. Phone went to voicemail. WeChat still blocked. This was out of character. He usually paid his debts immediately. Where was my penthouse? I started to panic. I called his secretary’s line. "I’m sorry, Mr. York has a private schedule today. May I ask who is calling?" I stammered, realizing I didn't have a title anymore. Gavin wasn't the broke guy on my couch anymore. He had a new team. They didn't know me. And our contract was over. I wasn't a sugar baby with VIP privileges anymore. "Nobody. Just... an old friend." I hung up, feeling awkward as hell. 4 For the sake of my penthouse, I decided to stalk him. I waited outside his corporate HQ for hours until a sleek black Maybach pulled up. The door opened. I saw Gavin’s sharp profile. Then, a woman in a stunning white Chanel suit stepped out. "Gavin, I’m very satisfied with you." Her voice was crisp and commanding. "You meet all my standards—looks, pedigree, assets. I don't mind building feelings after the wedding." Damn. Direct. That had to be Veronica Vance. The heiress. "I’m leaving now. Give me an answer in three days." Gavin’s back was to me, so I couldn't see his face. This was huge tea. I had to tell the group chat. I ducked behind a pillar, dimmed my screen, and started typing. June: [@everyone Emergency! Veronica Vance just proposed to Gavin York!] [Image attached: Blurry photo from behind a bush] The chat exploded. [Crypto Queen: Be honest, June. In three years, did you never catch feelings for him?] [Fake Heiress: Doesn't it hurt to hear that?] My thumb hovered over the screen. I didn't know how to answer. Suddenly, a deep voice rumbled directly above my head reading my group chat name. "The Diamond Cage Homeowners Association?" Gavin was standing right behind me. I panicked and locked my phone. He had one hand in his pocket, the other loosening his tie. He smelled of expensive scotch and agitation. His eyes were red-rimmed. "June, when did you pick up stalking as a hobby?" My heart hammered against my ribs. I took a step back. "I came to find you." Gavin’s eyes lit up instantly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. "To find me?" "Yeah. You left this at my place." I held out a cheap plastic lighter. "You forgot it. I brought it back." Gavin let out a short, bitter laugh. "You really are... efficient. Is my stuff that repulsive to you?" "It’s just clutter. The apartment feels bigger without it." Gavin’s breathing hitched. He turned away, taking a moment to compose himself. When he looked back, his face was a mask of indifference. "You heard what Veronica said?" I nodded. His gaze burned into me. "Any thoughts?" I buried my chin in my scarf and fiddled with my fingers. "Yes." "Well?" He leaned in, hope flickering in his eyes. The wind rustled the decorative trees, sounding like whispers. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I wish you happiness, a hundred years of marriage, and lots of babies." "Also... that 3,000-square-foot penthouse you promised? When do I get the deed?"
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