Chapter 1
729words
Ethan Gray knelt before me, his face ashen, the corners of his eyes tinged with red.
I sat on the edge of the bed in Ethan's rented room, holding a hotel key card in my hand, extending it toward him.
My mind went blank for a second. I quickly flung the card away and fell to my knees in front of him.
"What if I told you I'm just into cuckolding? Would you believe me?"
Ethan's gaze grew colder. I hurriedly changed my words.
"I'm just kidding! I was testing you, seeing if you'd abandon me for money."
As I spoke, my knees trembled beneath me.
How could they not? After eighteen years of life, I'd just discovered I was the doomed villainess in some trashy romance novel.
Three years ago, my stepmother kicked me out of the house. In a dirty alley, Ethan Gray found me.
Seeing me alone and vulnerable, he took me in without hesitation.
For these three years, he'd worked construction by day and washed dishes by night, treating me like a princess—buying me designer dresses and imported chocolates, even paying my exorbitant tuition at an elite prep school.
And how had I repaid him? With a vicious temper, constant verbal abuse, and naked contempt for his poverty.
Though Ethan's work left him covered in dust and grime, his chiseled features and brooding demeanor made him walking catnip to women.
Even wealthy older women had their eyes on him, one offering two million dollars for a single night.
According to the original plot, I'd force Ethan to accept that offer. Heartbroken, he'd finally kick me to the curb.
Soon after, he would meet the heroine, fall in love, and start a successful business.
In the following years, he and the heroine would live happily, his career soaring.
As for me? Consumed by jealousy, I'd try to harm the heroine, prompting Ethan to gouge out my eyes and lock me in a basement for the rest of my miserable life.
Just thinking about that tragic ending made my legs shake like jelly.
"Bella Reed, I know you don't like me—that you think I'm beneath you. But I'm your boyfriend, and you're asking me to prostitute myself? Are you that desperate for money?"
Ethan's gaze cut like a frozen blade, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone.
I flinched, words tumbling out in a desperate rush.
"No! Listen to me! I was just testing you..."
"You know, I'm terrible at studying, I have a bad temper, I can't cook, and I only know how to spend your money. I'm afraid someone will steal you away. I care about you so much, that's why I came up with this stupid idea..."
As I spoke, I managed to squeeze out a few convincing tears.
Ethan's penetrating gaze swept across my face. Given my track record, anything I said now reeked of insincerity.
"Is that so?" he asked, skepticism dripping from every syllable.
"Absolutely!" I nodded frantically.
I inched closer, wrapped my arms around his waist, and—throwing caution to the wind—nuzzled my head against his chest.
Ethan's body went rigid. In the past, I'd complained about his "filthy" work clothes, refusing even to hold his hand.
This sudden display of affection was unprecedented.
Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed nervously, his voice strained.
"Bella, let go."
"No." I clung to him like a lifeline.
"I know you don't believe me. I've been absolutely awful to you."
"But you see, I'm practically an orphan. I've never known real family warmth. I just need to feel in control sometimes—to feel secure."
"I've never looked down on you for being poor. I don't need you to be rich."
"I just need you to be mine—completely mine, and no one else's."
In my desperation, I channeled every cheesy romance drama I'd ever binged.
Ethan fell silent, then released a soft sigh.
He gently disentangled my arms.
"I'm filthy from work."
Then he scooped me up effortlessly and deposited me back on the bed.
He stroked my hair, his voice softening to a tender murmur.
"Bella, I'm sorry for doubting you. And you're not alone anymore. I'll always take care of you."
He pressed a bank card into my palm.
"Everything I have is yours. I..." his face flushed slightly, "I'm completely yours."
