Chapter 3

Alora snubbed her cigarette and asked in a particularly detached tone, "So, why do you want to die?"

I took in her neatly styled hair, delicate makeup, obviously expensive ensemble, and dazzling high heels.

She did the same with me—appraising my loose, threadbare short-sleeved shirt with stains that could never be washed out, and the broken-soled canvas shoes on my feet.

A soft chuckle escaped her. "You just need money, right? I can give it to you."

She fished a couple of cards from her purse and tossed them at my feet like trash. "There, I've given you money, so what can I expect from you in return? You've got a pretty face. You can repay me with yourself."

Alora angled her head to the side as she stood under the hazy moonlight, looking brighter than the moon itself.

She took me back to her place that same night. She told me that if I did as I was told, she'd give me everything I wanted.

From that day on, I willingly followed Alora and became her secret lover.

Alora made good on her word and settled my debts. She gave me enough money to pay for college and even arranged an internship for me at her company after I graduated.

There was only one thing I had to remember at all times: my place. We respected each other's boundaries of our relationship. We were intimate in bed but strangers outside of it.

I was not the only lover Alora kept. I'd always known that. Her other lovers came and went, but somehow, I was the one who stayed by her the longest.

Alora said I had ambition, and she liked men with ambition. Little did she know that my only ambition had always been her.

Countless times, as I watched her lose herself beneath me, I realized with painful clarity that I had grown greedy. I wanted her to love me.

…

As agreed, I arrived at the cafe to meet the date Alora had set me up with. I waited for a long time, and it wasn't until most of the customers had left that the young woman finally showed up.

She was wearing a miniskirt and heavy makeup. She shoved past a waiter and sat down across from me.

I looked up and asked a waiter to replace my latte, which had long since gone cold.

"You could have just told me if you were only doing this to get your family off your back."

When I lifted my gaze, the contemptuous expression on the young woman’s face froze.

"Elliot? Elliot Dugray?" She immediately peeled the false lashes from her eyes. When she looked at me again, there was a hint of bashfulness in her expression.

Gemma? The heiress of the Larson family. Alora really had treated me well—she’d found me another powerful family to rely on. But other than that, I couldn’t remember having any connection with Gemma.

"I'm sorry…"

Gemma's eyes darkened. "I'm your junior. We both took art appreciation as our elective. I used to sit behind you all the time. I even borrowed your notes once. Wait, I thought you said you were seeing someone at the time."

Back in college, I had indeed told people I was in a relationship to discourage anyone who was interested in me. But now, with my “girlfriend” having personally arranged this date for me, those words sounded especially bitter.

I smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

As if sensing something, Gemma quietly stirred the coffee in front of her.

“When Alora told me about the date, I didn’t expect it to be you. After all, you two never seemed close.”

I composed myself. I thought anyone who knew Alora would know of my existence. When I looked up again, my tone had turned distant. “We really aren’t close. I simply work at Ms. Sheffield’s company.”

Gemma smiled. There was nothing hostile about her smile, though it looked a little comical with such heavy makeup.

"Let's follow each other on Instagram, Elliot. We can make plans over DMs next time."