BE MY SEX DOLL

THE NEXT MORNING

003

"It’s Ash I love. The moment I saw her, I lost interest in you. You’re just a good-for-nothing bitch."

"No, Ryan. Don’t do this..."

*******

I shot upright, gasping for air. My chest heaved, my hands clutching at the sheets beneath me. Cold sweat clung to my skin as I struggled to separate nightmare from reality.

"Ryan can’t leave me," I whispered shakily. "He wouldn’t..."

I squeezed my arm hard, nails digging into my flesh, hoping to jolt myself awake. The sharp sting spread through my nerves like wildfire. It wasn’t a dream. It was real. It all happened.

The betrayal.

The fall.

The car.

A beeping sound filled my ears, its rhythmic pulse anchoring me to the present. Slowly, I turned my head. The sterile white walls, the faint antiseptic scent, the oxygen mask pressing against my face—it all confirmed what I feared.

I was in a hospital.

A deep chill settled in my bones, making me shudder. The IV tugged at my arm with every small movement. The soft cotton gown draped over me felt foreign, like a reminder that I didn’t belong here. I belonged... nowhere.

A fresh wave of anger and despair crashed over me. I ripped the oxygen mask off and tossed it aside. My hands shook as I fumbled with the IV needle, yanking it free. A sharp sting shot up my arm, but I didn’t care. I had to get out of here.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I pushed myself up. The cold tile floor bit at my bare feet. My knees wobbled, weak from exhaustion, but I forced myself to stand.

Then the door opened.

Two figures walked in.

The first was a doctor—her white coat crisp, stethoscope draped around her neck. She took one look at me and gasped. "You shouldn’t be moving!" She rushed toward me, concern evident in her wide eyes.

But it was the second figure that made my breath catch.

Stanley Richardson.

The billionaire. The man whose name alone sent ripples through the business world. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, standing with effortless authority. His golden-brown eyes locked onto mine, cold and unreadable.

What the hell was he doing here?

The doctor placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "Miss Ken, please sit down. You need rest."

I barely heard her. My focus was entirely on Stanley. His presence was suffocating, his energy overwhelming. He hadn’t spoken a word, but the weight of his gaze pinned me in place.

Then, in that deep, commanding voice, he asked, "are you okay?.."

I blinked.

Had I misheard him?

Stanley Richardson—the Stanley Richardson—was asking me if I was okay?

I was still in shock, I didn't know what to say at that point.

Before I could process it, he turned to the doctor. "If she’s stable, discharge her. I’ll handle the bills."

The doctor hesitated but eventually nodded. She seemed just as unsettled by his presence as I was.

He turned to leave, his long strides carrying him toward the door.

Panic flared in my chest. He was leaving.

This was my only chance.

"Mr. Richardson!" My voice came out sharper than I intended.

He stopped. Slowly, he turned back to me, his expression unreadable.

I swallowed hard. "I… I need your help," I stammered.

His brow arched slightly. "What kind of help?"

Desperation burned in my throat. I had nothing left. No home. No money. No safety net.

"I’ll work for you," I blurted out. "As a maid, a cook—whatever you need. Just… give me a job. A roof over my head."

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. His gaze swept over me, assessing, calculating.

Then he smirked. The expression sent a shiver down my spine.

"I don’t need a maid or a cook," he said coolly.

He turned again, dismissing me.

Desperation clawed at me. Before I could think, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand.

The moment my fingers wrapped around his, his entire body went rigid.

His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing at the audacity of my touch.

"You really want a job that badly?" His voice was quieter now, but laced with something dangerous.

I nodded quickly. "Yes," I whispered. "I’ll do anything."

For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card. He held it between two fingers before dropping it onto the hospital bed.

"Call me when you’re discharged." His tone was final, like a businessman closing a deal.

I stared at the card, the bold lettering of his name and number and address standing out against the dark surface. My fingers trembled as I picked it up.

By the time I looked up, he was already gone.

********

Later that evening, I stood outside the hospital, the wind cool against my skin. The city stretched around me, indifferent to my existence.

In my hand, the black card felt heavier than it should.

This was my last hope.

Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

No answer.

I tried again. Nothing.

Frustration bubbled up. Was this a joke? Had he just given me the card to get rid of me?

Anger surged through me. I clenched my fist, the card crumpling slightly under the pressure. Billionaires—they toyed with people’s lives just because they could.

I threw the card onto the pavement.

Then my phone buzzed.

My heart leapt into my throat as I scrambled to pick up the card again, shoving it into my pocket.

The screen flashed a number.

it was him, he was calling back.

My fingers fumbled as I answered. "Hello?"

A deep voice rumbled through the receiver. "Who is this?"

I swallowed. "It’s Alora. The girl from the hospital. You… you gave me your number."

For a moment he kept silent. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

"I remember," he said smoothly. "You’re the one who stutters when she’s nervous."

Heat burned my cheeks. I clenched the phone tighter.

"I’m ready to work," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "What job do you have for me?"

Another pause. The kind that made my stomach twist.

"You said you’d do anything right?, he asked"

"Yes,"I replied.

But his next words sent a chill down my spine.

"Then here’s what I want," he murmured, his voice like silk over steel.

"I want you to please me every night. Be my personal… companion. Be my sex doll."

My breath caught.

And just like that, I realized—I had made a deal with the devil.