From His Pet to His Wife

I used to work as a model, but not the typical kind; in our profession, everyone had a benefactor, someone who supported them financially.

I had one too, and his name was Sean Lawson. If I were to do the math, it would have been almost a year since I first met him.

Our contract was about to come to an end, and we had just under a fortnight left to decide whether to renew or part ways.

This decision was crucial in our industry, where our careers hinge on our youth, and finding a reliable benefactor wasn't a simple task.

To be honest, I was quite content with Sean as my benefactor, given what remained of my conscience.

If he chose to renew our arrangement, I'd enthusiastically embrace the opportunity.

Unfortunately, based on what I knew about Sean, the outcome hung in the balance. He’s an absolute charmer.

When a man's wealth and power reached a certain level, there was naturally a constant influx of newcomers seeking his favor.

No matter how hard I tried, there were limits to what the human body could endure. After being together for a year and experiencing every conceivable scenario, Sean had lost interest in me.

The villa halfway up the mountain, covering nearly five hundred square meters, was the place Sean assigned for me to live — all his lovers lived here, but I couldn't be sure where I stood in the order.

Just the thought of bidding farewell to this grand mansion in another half-month filled me with sadness.

It was close to midnight when the maid woke me up, saying that Sean had arrived.

Naturally, I had to attend to him.

Our profession wasn't as straightforward as it might seem; it wasn't just about lying down with our eyes closed and wearing a seductive smile.

Besides knowing how to please, luck played a significant role. If one found themselves with an unfavorable benefactor, it wasn't just a matter of losing income; it could also lead to their life being ruined.

In my three years in the industry, I had witnessed several of my "colleagues" grappling with such a situation for the remainder of their lives.

I considered myself fortunate. Sean, aside from his penchant for teasing me in that particular regard, had no other noticeable flaws and was remarkably generous.

I hastily donned a robe and made my way downstairs. There, I found Sean already reclined on the sofa, his eyes half-lidded, and the aroma of alcohol lingering around him.

The maid approached with a cup of honey water, and I instinctively took it, offering it to Sean with a caring tone. I softly asked, "Mr. Lawson, care for a sip?

It is worth noting that Sean's last name was not "Lawson", but actually "Lawisson". However, very few people were aware that he disliked being called Mr. Lawisson. Luckily, my lack of knowledge played in my favor, as I had no idea there was a surname like 'Lawisson’. I ended up catching Sean's attention purely by chance.

According to Sean, many people would respectfully address him as Mr. Lawisson upon their first encounter, but that only gave him goose bumps every time.

Sean reluctantly indulged in a few sips, his brows furrowing in response to the taste.

I quickly took away the cup. The combination of alcohol and various scents coming from him was quite alluring, but I didn't stop there. I helped him undress, prepared a warm bath, and took great care in tending to his needs, making sure every little detail was attended to.

Remarkably, Sean was not totally black out throughout the process, even cooperating by lifting his head and arms as needed.

"Lizzie, how long have you been with me?"

"Mr. Lawson, it's been almost a year."

Sean nodded. "So, the contract is nearing its end."

My heart skipped a beat, wondering if he was going to talk about renewing the contract. If he chose not to renew the contract, I wondered how much of a breakup fee I could get. Sean was a generous man, and if the money was right, I wouldn't have to stay in this profession.

Unfortunately, after he asked this question, there was no further discussion. I sat there waiting, only to be met with the sound of Sean’s sleeping breath.

The next day, my friend invited me to a beauty salon. Before I turned eighteen, I never imagined I would be frequenting such places.

In this line of work, looking good was crucial, and despite the handsome pay that came with it, maintaining one's beauty could be quite expensive. Newcomers continuously entered the scene, and once youth was no longer on your side, having the right skills and taking care of your appearance became essential.

These beauty treatments, covering everything from head to toe, were quite expensive. Each visit to the salon could set us back anywhere from a hundred to several thousand dollars.

The last package I purchased came to a whopping forty thousand dollars, and it felt like a painful hit to my wallet when I paid for it.

However, the results were worth it. On that particular night, Sean couldn't resist my advances – a rare exception. His self-control was remarkable. I had employed every seductive tactic, but typically, he would exercise restraint when the moment arrived.

A friend asked me about my future plans, mentioning that she recently got to know a wealthy patron from the city’s social circle, who seemed promising. She suggested that if I were interested, she could introduce me at our next gathering. I declined the offer repeatedly.

Though Sean most likely wouldn't renew our contract, we were still bound by it. If I dared to seek another benefactor behind his back, I'd be asking for trouble.

"I'm curious who will be lucky enough to become Sean's next partner," my friend remarked, showing a hint of envy.

"I have no idea," I replied curtly.

Sean didn't appreciate people trying to figure out his intentions, but in our line of work, reading people's preferences was instinctual.

Throughout the year I was with Sean, I saw plenty of attractive individuals competing for his affection, regardless of their gender. People of his kind didn't mind much; as long as they could satisfy him, he would keep giving them money.

At first, he showed some enthusiasm for me, but as time went on, it became more subdued. Perhaps the novelty had worn off, and he considered me just another option. Next year, he might be onto someone else.

Midway through my beauty treatment, I received a call from Sean. He provided me with an address and instructed me to come immediately.

The address led me to a private mansion, a members-only establishment with high levels of privacy. I had a vague sense of anticipation, and upon arrival, I recognized the people here were Sean’s clients from the Westin City.

My purpose for being there was to win the favor of these clients in a different way, a skill I had honed over the years. With each glass of alcohol and a stream of pleasant words from my lips, the atmosphere became increasingly warm.

One of the clients, Christian Murray, handed me a business card right in front of Sean. He mentioned how much he liked me. I discreetly glanced at Sean, trying to gauge his reaction.

Unfortunately, Sean was a person I had never been able to decipher.