My Sugar Baby In 365 days

Two years ago, Purple Hearts—the sole heiress to Hearts of Jewels, one of the world’s most lucrative luxury conglomerates—walked down the aisle to marry Alex Hawthorne, a man whose reputation preceded him like a storm cloud. Cold-hearted, reckless, and a notorious playboy spoiled by generational wealth, he was everything her family warned her against. But Purple saw none of it.

It had started at the annual St. Clair Elite Banquet, where she’d spotted him across a sea of tailored suits and diamond gowns. In that single glance, she’d convinced herself he was her one true love—the missing piece she’d spent her whole life searching for. So when word spread that Alex was holding auditions to find a wife (a stunt his grandfather had forced to secure the family fortune), Purple made a choice that would change everything.

She cut ties with her identity, erased every trace of her wealth, and presented herself as a penniless, uneducated woman with nothing to her name but a dream of loving him.

Her parents had begged her to reconsider, knowing Alex’s cruel streak and his obsession with his lost first love.

But Purple had sworn an oath (I will make him fall for me in two years). She’d believed it with every fiber of her being—believed love could melt even the coldest heart.

Today marks their second anniversary. For the first time since they’d wed, Alex had sent her an address, asking her to meet him. Her hands shook as she fastened the last pearl to her earlobe—tonight, she’d finally tell him the truth.

She’d show him that she was more than the poor girl he’d married she was the one woman who could stand beside him as an equal.

The bar he’d chosen was opulent—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and bottles of liquor that cost more than most people’s homes. To anyone else, it would be intimidating. To Purple, it was just another Tuesday night from her old life.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she climbed the stairs to the second floor, each step echoing with hope.

“He loves me,”she whispered to herself, her eyes gleaming with tears she’d fought to hold back. She raised her hand to knock on the private room door—then froze.

Laughter spilled into the hallway, rough and mocking. A woman’s perfume—sweet, cloying—drifted out, followed by the sound of Alex’s voice, low and casual as if discussing the weather.

“So how’s your little wife?” one of his friends slurred, clinking a glass against his.

“Oh, she’s fine,” Alex replied, taking a long sip of whiskey. “Keeps the house clean, doesn’t ask questions.”

“Heard she’s a looker,” another man said, his tone greasy. “You gonna share her with us when you’re done playing house?”

Purple’s fingers curled into the silk of her dress, nails digging into her palm hard enough to draw blood.

“Sure,” Alex said—icy, arrogant, without a flicker of hesitation.

“Once I’ve gotten what I need from her, she’s all yours.”

A soft giggle cut through the air.

“Alex, when are you going to divorce that nobody?” The woman beside him traced a finger down his chest, her eyes sharp and possessive.

“We all know who you really want to marry.”

“Yeah, man!” his best friend chimed in.

“Amber Delgado—the heiress to Hearts of Jewels. She’s perfect for you. Together, you’d rule the industry.”

Amber Delgado. The name landed like a knife in Purple’s chest. So this was the woman he’d never stopped loving—the reason he’d been so distant, so cruel, for two years.

She’d been nothing more than a placeholder, a warm body to fill his bed while he waited for his first love to come back. For two years, she’d cooked his meals, mended his clothes, and held him through nightmares he’d never explained—all while he saw her as nothing but a servant.

“I’m ready now, Alex,” Amber said, her voice dripping with sweetness. “I’ll marry you.”

He turned to her, and for the first time, Purple saw warmth in his eyes—the warmth she’d spent two years begging for. “Amber,” he murmured, cupping her cheek.

“I’ve waited so long for you to say that.”

Purple could feel her world splintering.

The floor tilted beneath her feet, but she forced herself to stand tall. No more, she told herself. No more begging for love that was never mine to begin with.

With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she pushed open the door. The room fell silent—then erupted in laughter.

“Well, well,” one of the men sneered. “Look who crawled out of the kitchen.”

Alex’s face hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“You invited me,” she said, her voice low and steady—nothing like the trembling girl he’d married.

“Me?” He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes scanning her from head to toe as if seeing her for the first time.

“I’d never invite you to a place like this. You’re boring, penniless, and uneducated—what would you even talk to us about?”

“Exactly,” another man sneered, standing up and sauntering toward her. His hand traced the curve of her shoulder, cold and unwanted.

“Maybe you could be useful for something else, though. Want to sleep with me? Might be the only way you’ll ever matter.”

Rage flooded through her—hot, primal, and blinding. Before she could think, her hand cracked across his face, the slap echoing like thunder in the silent room.

“You bitch!” he roared, raising his fist to strike back. But Alex moved faster, catching his wrist mid-air.

“Enough,” Alex said, his voice sharp. “I’ll handle her. Don’t touch my wife.”

My wife. The words tasted like ash.

“Handle me?” Purple shot back, her eyes blazing.

“Who do you think you are? You don’t get to ‘handle’ me like I’m some toy you can break and fix when it suits you.”

Amber let out a shrill laugh.

“Look at you—talking back like you’re someone important. You’re nothing compared to me. I’m the heiress to Hearts of Jewels, the one everyone respects.”

Purple’s jaw tightened. Hearts of Jewels. She’d built half of that company with her own hands, staying up late to review contracts and design collections while this woman played dress-up with stolen jewelry.

“Shut up,” Purple snapped, her voice cutting through the room like glass.

Alex’s face darkened with fury. In three long strides, he was in front of her, his hand wrapping around her neck. She gasped, clawing at his fingers as he pressed her against the wall, his eyes black with rage.

“You wretched woman,” he snarled, tightening his grip. “How dare you speak to her like that?”

Purple’s vision blurred, her lips turning blue as she fought for breath. Just when she thought she’d black out, he let go—shoving her hard enough that her head cracked against the marble wall. Blood trickled down her temple as she crumpled to the floor, her ears ringing with the sound of their laughter.

“Pathetic,” Amber scoffed, holding up her hand to show off a gaudy ring.

“See this? It’s from Hearts of Jewels—my mother gave it to me. Proof of who I am.”

Purple pushed herself up, leaning against the wall for support. “Hearts of Jewels has only one heiress,” she said, her voice hoarse. “And it’s not you.”

Alex laughed—a harsh, cruel sound. “You? A lowlife who auditioned to be my wife? Don’t make me laugh. You’re just jealous of Amber.”

“Jealous?” Purple looked at him then, really looked at him—at the man she’d loved with every part of herself, who’d never once seen her as anything more than a burden.

“If you want to marry your ‘heiress,’ be my guest. But we’re done.”

“Done?” Alex raised an eyebrow, his face twisted with contempt. “What are you talking about?”

“I want a divorce,” she said, each word clear and final.

He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. “What did you just say?”

“Would you like me to spell it out for you?” she asked, her voice cold as ice. “D-I-V-O-R-C-E. I’m leaving you.”

She turned and walked out, her feet carrying her through the bar and into the night. Every step felt like walking on broken glass, but she didn’t look back.

(The man I loved was never real), she whispered to the empty street. ( He was just a monster wearing a pretty face. I’ll never love him again.)

fingers already moving across her phone screen to dial her assistant.

"Marcus—find me someone who can help me have a baby. I’m willing to pay millions."

"A million for a baby?" Marcus’s voice crackled with surprise through the speaker.

"Millions," she corrected sharply, her breath forming small clouds in the cool dark. "I need an heir—and I need them fast."

With that, she ended the call, shoving her phone into her coat pocket as she stared out at the empty street.

She reached their house and began packing her things—every dress she’d mended, every book she’d read to him when he couldn’t sleep, every trace of the life she’d built for a man who’d never cared. But before she could finish, the front door slammed open.

Alex stood there, Amber clinging to his arm like a parasite.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“Can’t you see?” she said, not looking at him. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Where will you go? The streets?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You have nothing without me.”

“I’d rather sleep on the pavement than spend one more night in this house with you.”

Amber stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Is this because I’m here? Are you upset that Alex finally has someone worthy of him?”

Purple looked at her then, her gaze so sharp it made Amber flinch.

“No. I’m upset that I wasted two years of my life on a man who can’t tell the difference between a real diamond and a cheap fake.”

She held out a stack of papers. “I’ve already signed the divorce papers. Sign yours and send them to my lawyer.”

With that, she walked out the door, her back straight despite the pain in her head and heart. She stood on the curb, waiting, as the night air bit at her skin.

Then, a sleek black limousine pulled up. The driver—a man in a crisp uniform—stepped out and bowed deeply.

“Ms. Hearts,” he said, his voice respectful.

“Your parents have been waiting for you. They’ve missed you terribly.”

He took her luggage and loaded it into the trunk, then opened the door for her. As she climbed inside, Amber rushed out of the house, her face twisted with fury.

“Alex!” she screamed, pointing at the car. “She’s cheating on you! She was with that bald old man she’s been lying to you this whole time!”

Alex ran to the window, watching as the limousine pulled away. A strange feeling twisted in his chest—guilt, maybe, or something he couldn’t name. He stormed upstairs to their bedroom, where the divorce papers lay on the bed like a death sentence.

“She’s really leaving me,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he traced his name on the dotted line. “But she’ll be back. She has to be. No one leaves me.”

Outside, Purple leaned her head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. The pain in her chest was still sharp—but beneath it, something else was beginning to stir. Something cold. Something fierce.

He wants to marry a fake heiress? she thought, a dark smile touching her lips. Let him. He has no idea what he’s just lost.