In the Past

"More suspiciously, Antonio died within three days after the proceedings were final. I will need you to explain the circumstances around your divorce and its settlement, Ms. Tillman." Caleb flipped the file to the page he wanted.

When they first got their hands on the report, Caleb's colleagues suspected that Jessica Tillman might've put a spell on Clarence somehow. Clarence was a billionaire. Yet, he did not sign any prenups before the marriage. He gave everything to his ex-wife during the settlement.

"He must be mad," they said.

I kept quiet, but I was clenching my dress tightly.

Greg looked at me a little fiercely. "We'll need you to work with us here, Ms. Tillman."

I was shivering, but I said loudly, "Because he cheated on me! The cheater gives the betrayed everything they have! That was the condition, and he said yes! Do you have a problem with that?"

Caleb quickly went through the report. The news outlets would've had a field day with a financial entanglement of this scale. Greg looked at his colleagues, but they shook their heads.

"Ashington's courthouse did not receive any divorce requests lately. You did it out of court?"

I looked away. "We got an attorney for it."

Greg fell silent for a moment. "Clarence said yes, you said?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Who do you think signed the papers?"

The officers had nothing to say to that. I did not blame their incredulity. I did want Clarence's money, but I wasn't expecting him to give me everything he had.

I suspected that this was just a part of his wealth. He probably gave everything else—and it must be a huge chunk—to that mistress he had.

The interrogation went on for a while, but finally, I was released.

Back in the interrogation room, a confused Caleb asked, "Greg, do you really think a rich business owner would kill himself just because he saw his ex-wife having a party with 25 supermodels at home?"

Greg frowned. "I don't think so."

"But that's what happened."

"Or so we think. No matter. When we get the content of the call, we'll know what Ms. Tillman told Clarence."

I got back home and strode to my bedroom; then I rummaged through my cabinet for my wedding photo. The glass cut my finger, and drops of blood fell on Clarence's wilting face. I tried to wipe the blood off, but my wound got worse. In the end, the blood got smeared everywhere.

For some reason, I saw Clarence through the veil of my blood, but it was the state of his body—bloated and grotesque. I scrambled backward. It was almost as if I didn't know the man in the photo anymore.

His graying hair was blotted out, but there were wrinkles on his smiling face. He didn't look like this when I first met him.

Clarence went to the gym regularly. He was sharp, his muscles were taut, and he would dye his hair black all the time. If it weren't for the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes and the storied look in his gaze, people would think he was in his thirties.

I was eighteen when we first met, and I worked at a bar on the beach. Clarence's friends escorted him into the bar. I saw the watch he was wearing. It was a Rolex, and that thing cost a house.

All the ladies had their eyes on him like he was prey, but I was faster. I sashayed over to him and served him bottles of expensive liquor. Younger men were always stingy with their money, but older men were the opposite.

Although I hadn't worked here long enough, I knew I could get enough commission from the liquor sale alone to last me a month. I sat closely with Clarence and bent over a little, revealing my cleavage to him.

"Fancy a glass, sir?"

A frown creased Clarence's forehead, and the look in his eyes went dark.

Contract

I caught that look, and for a brief moment, I was frightened enough to quit my job right there and then. His friends chased me off, but then a husky voice asked me, "What's your name?"

"Jessica Tillman."

The frown on Clarence's forehead smoothed over. "Decent name."

I wondered what that meant as I leaned my body closer to his arm and gently introduced the liquor to him.

Clarence took the liquor and evaded my body. "You work here?"

'Huh, so he's an aloof type,' I thought. "Just part-time," I said.

"Selling liquor?"

"Yes."

Clarence frowned again. "How much do you make a month?"

"It's a commission-based job."

Clarence tapped the bottle. "How much do you make from selling one of these?"

I raised three fingers.

"How many do you have left?"

I was taken aback but quickly snapped out of it. "It's a bestseller, so we only have ten of these left. We do have our pride and joy, though. It costs this much." I gesticulated.

Clarence didn't even blink, and he gave me a black card. "I'll get all of them."

'What?' I was shocked. 'Holy shit, this is my lucky night!' I asked Clarence if he was sure about this, and he said yes. So, I quickly told the manager to get the liquor.

When the 750-thousand-dollar whisky was brought out, my colleagues and I stared at it fervently. I'd been working in this bar for a few months. My colleagues and I tried to sell the whisky off, but no one would ever buy it.

The rich were not stupid. Any liquor that cost this much was usually kept in a collection, not haphazardly placed in a bar for sale. 'Yep, older men are both rich and gullible.'

I stared at Clarence, the passion in my eyes flaring. My colleague was even worse. She was practically taking off her clothes as she tried to plaster herself all over Clarence.

Clarence dodged her attempts and waved at me. "This is a low-value job. Want to work with me?"

"Given that you're implying a high-value job is waiting for me…"

"Fifteen million a year."

I almost stopped breathing.

"Your job is to marry me."

'Well, shit.' I almost tripped over myself, and I raised my hand weakly. "I-I'm just eighteen. I can't get married yet."

Clarence looked at the layers of makeup on my face and the clothes that barely cladded me. He massaged his forehead and fell into his thoughts. After all, I had the body and the look of a mature woman. Of course, that was after I donned some makeup.

Clarence took off his shirt and handed it to me, telling me to cover myself up. "We'll get married in two years, then."

I stole a glance at his perfect body. Then, I caressed his silk shirt. The shirt was too long for me, so I I tied a bow on my waist with the hem of the shirt before asking, "And my benefits?"

"As per the law."

I almost went on my knee and swore eternal fealty to Clarence. "Yes, boss!" I said.

I had no idea Clarence was Ashington's richest man. He looked like a regular, rich old guy. The offer must be a joke. I had assumed I'd only be getting a million at most.

When I found out Clarence's age, I thought maybe I could even host his funeral a few years after we got married. Then, I'd inherit his wealth and become a mega-rich woman.

He was probably failing down there, but at least he was handsome. It definitely didn't hurt that he had muscles. I had no qualms about sleeping with him. It was like winning the lottery. So, I signed the contract and happily moved into Clarence's manor.

The butler assigned me a three-bedroom.

Drunk Girl

I had a soak in a bathtub that could fit probably five people in it. After my bath, I nervously waited for Clarence to summon me. Then, I fell asleep.

'He didn't summon me. Did he forget me?' I wondered. He did not. He wasn't going to do it with me back then.

One month went by. Clarence spent most of his time working overseas and would only come back occasionally. Every time he did, he would catch up with me and ask how I was doing.

I put on a few pounds during my time living there. Just when I was going to ask my lawyer if the contract was legit, I got paid.

I held my phone, counting all the zeroes in my account. I laughed so hard that the bed might actually break. I got myself a nice, cushy job. My boss didn't really micromanage me. In fact, he would only indulge me even when I made some outrageous requests like getting a jewelry set that was worth more than my yearly salary at an auction.

I kept pushing the limits. When I realized Clarence wouldn't get mad no matter what I did, I got cocky. My ego was pushing me further and further ahead. I'd bring a whole entourage of bodyguards with me just for a shopping trip.

I could feel everyone staring at me enviously, and I enjoyed it. I'd go to get-togethers with friends wearing the most expensive clothes money could buy. Then, they would give me the jealous stares, which I also enjoyed.

My friends egged me on, and I bought the priciest wine the bar had. They made me drink until I was blackout drunk. At the end of the day, the bodyguards dragged me home. My arrogance and hubris found fertile soil to grow, and grow they did.

However, no one was there to clean up all the dirt and filth around my ego. Suffice it to say, they overwhelmed me.

When I came home blackout drunk the third time, Clarence was at home. I was humming out of tune, and my tight dress was nearly off, revealing my body. My face was covered in red marks from strangers' kisses.

Clarence was on his couch, fiddling with his thumb ring. He looked at me darkly, his silence deafening. I tilted my head. My brain was so muddled that I thought he was a model at the bar. So, I took off my heels and trotted up to him, staring intently.

Clarence frowned and wiped off the marks on my face. I boldly kissed his cheek and stuffed a wad of cash down his collar. Everything stopped for a moment, and everyone stared at us.

Driven by my oversized arrogance, I said, "You're an old fogey, but you're hot. How much do I have to pay you for a night?"

Clarence's lashes trembled. "How much do you have?"

I held up my phone, showing him my bank balance. "As much as you want!"

The butler buried his face in his hand and immediately put a stop to the conversation. He asked Clarence to calm down, telling him I was acting out of line because I was drunk. Then, he took the hangover cure Mrs. Wolfgang gave him and shoved it down my throat.

I complained, "Ugh, what is this? It's shit. Give me the best booze you have!" I thought the butler was my bodyguard. So, I pointed at Clarence. "And get me more models! They have to at least be as handsome as this one!"

Clarence sneered. "You want more men?"

I nodded, still immersed in the girl I would pose as whenever my friends were around. "Yeah. One's not enough for me…"

Clarence asked, "And how many do you need?"

I paused. How should I know? I've never done it before. Still, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of a hot guy. So, I boasted, "At least seven or eight!"

Clarence chortled. I rubbed my forearms. Things got a little cold all of a sudden.