Ethan married me for two reasons.

First, I looked fifty percent like his first love.

Second, his family threatened to kick him out of the Hayes Group inheritance and board seat unless he got married—any wife would do.

I had zero complaints.

The Hayes family was obscenely rich.

Especially after Ethan started openly sleeping around to “satisfy his desires” while still insisting Ava was “pure,” his parents felt even sorrier for me. They bumped my monthly allowance up to seven figures—basically telling me to enjoy myself.

“Husband's not home? Then go spend money.” That's what they said.

Two years ago I bought a waterfront estate on Long Island and installed my perfect boy toy there—broad shoulders, narrow waist, impressive equipment, and stamina for days.

God, my life was perfect.

…

I reached the estate before ten.

The moment I stepped through the door, a tall figure pinned me against the wall. A hot, demanding kiss swallowed me whole.

I pushed him once, twice—then gave up and kissed him back.

His technique was lethal; I'd known that for two years.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he buried his face in my neck like a big cat, nuzzling.

“You're late. I've been dying here.” Alexander's voice was low and husky.

He was wrapped in nothing but a low-slung towel, water droplets still clinging to his ripped abs.

I ran my hands over those abs, eyes sparkling. “Less talking, more doing.”

He smirked darkly, grabbed my wandering hand, and flipped our positions.

…

“Again?”

Alexander leaned over me, voice thick with desire.

The bedroom looked like a crime scene—clothes everywhere, my carefully chosen outfit draped over the headboard.

I shook my head. “No, I'm exhausted.”

He rolled to his side, pulled me close, and kissed my cheek. “Then sleep.”

I pushed him away, got up, and quickly dressed. I pulled a check from my wallet.

“This is ten million—consider it severance for the last two years.” I pressed the check into his hand.

His face darkened instantly, all the excitement gone.

“You're dumping me?”

I smiled. “I'm about to be single again. You really want to follow me around like a stray?”

Ava was back. The three-year contract was almost up.

Once the divorce was finalized, I'd cash out, disappear, and live the rich-girl life I'd always dreamed of.

So many male models waiting to be spoiled—why tie myself to one tree?

Alexander stayed silent.

That was enough.

I grabbed my bag and walked out.

Two steps later, something shattered in the room.

I didn't stop.

Being dumped after two years of being kept is painful for anyone.

But that wasn't my problem.

I hoped he'd get over it soon.

For the next four months, I still had to play the perfect Hayes wife.

Like tonight—Ethan dragged me to the Mellon Family Foundation charity gala, a huge event where old money and new money pretended to care about orphans while networking like crazy.

I hid in a corner, eating mini cupcakes.

“Is that her? The Hayes wife nobody talks about?”

“She looks so ordinary. No wonder Ethan cheats.”

“Who eats cupcakes at a gala? So embarrassing.”

“Probably because he never takes her anywhere. She's from nowhere—just a trophy wife.”

A group of rich girls whispered nearby.

I ignored them. The Upper East Side scene was toxic.

The whispers kept going.

“What bracelet is that? I've never seen the brand.”

“Probably from Etsy.”

“No, that's Lunara. You can't even buy it with money—she must be wearing a fake.”

Suddenly a clear voice cut in.

“What are you all whispering about? If you have something to say, say it to her face.”

Miraculously, the nasty girls shut up. They actually looked scared.

Ava Chen.

She gave me an apologetic smile, her gaze lingering on my bracelet for two seconds before sliding away.

I didn't engage.

I finished my cupcake, stood up, and went looking for Ethan.

A server bumped into me, spilling red wine all over my dress.

We both froze.

The server apologized profusely.

Ava appeared, holding a garment bag. “Are you okay? That stain won't come out. I just picked this up from the dry cleaner—emergency change?”

She pressed the bag into my hands.

Huh. Ethan's first love actually seemed… decent?

I thanked her and headed to the restroom.

As I wove through the crowd, I spotted a familiar figure.

My pupils shrank.

Same face.

Exactly the same.

Alexander…

I'd known the name for a while—the Mellon family was old New York royalty, into real estate, finance, media, everything.

I'd always assumed my boy toy just happened to share the name.

But now… he stood there in a custom tux, radiating old-money arrogance, nothing like the naked guy I knew.

My fingers shook as I pulled out my phone and dialed “Hot & Hung.”

Across the room, Alexander excused himself from his conversation, checked his phone, then stepped aside.

“Hey?”

That low, familiar voice.

I froze.

Silence.

He turned, scanning the crowd until his eyes locked on me.

He smiled.

My eyes widened.

I hung up and bolted toward the bathroom.

Right before the corner, a strong arm yanked me into a storage closet.

I smelled Creed Aventus—my favorite men's cologne. The one I'd told him I loved.

He remembered.

Alexander wrapped around me from behind, lips brushing my ear.

“Running away, baby?”

His lips grazed my earlobe. My legs almost gave out.

I begged him to let go—I needed to change.

He ignored me, tightened his hold, and guided me up a hidden staircase to the second floor.

He pushed open a door, locked it behind us, and pinned me against it.

“This used to be my temporary place. Better than the bathroom for changing.”

I protested weakly, “Why did you lie to me?”

“I never lied.” He frowned, looking genuinely hurt. “You never gave me a chance to tell you.”

“You only called at night.”

“Every time we met, you went straight to sex.”

“You never asked my last name, my job—nothing!” His tone even sounded a little aggrieved.

…Was that true?

Yes… I'd only ever gone to the Coastline Estate at night.

But he was my sugar baby. Of course we only met for sex!

I smiled awkwardly. “Okay, my bad. But I need to change now. Can you step out?”

I pointed at the garment bag.

He gave a cold little smirk, strode to the sofa, sat down, and spread his legs.

“We've seen each other naked for two years. What's there to be shy about?”

True.

I rarely saw him fully dressed.

So I turned around, calmly unzipped my gown.

His gaze burned hotter and hotter on my skin.

Finally he couldn't take it—he reached out with a long arm and yanked me down.

I tumbled into his lap, bag and all.

Then came the fierce kissing.

Right as his hand started sliding lower, my phone rang.

I pushed him off, answered, and motioned for him to stay quiet.

“I'm upstairs changing.”

“Okay, I'll be right down.”

I hung up, quickly slipped into Ava's spare robe, and headed for the door.

He grabbed my wrist. “You're just leaving like that?”

I smiled sweetly. “Mr. Mellon, with your connections I'm sure you've already done a full background check on me.”

“I don't know why you let me ‘keep' you for two years.”

“But what I said last time was true. No sex after the breakup.”

“My husband is looking for me. Goodbye.”

I shook him off and walked out.

“Wen!” he called after me, frustrated.

…

Ethan saw us come downstairs one after the other and gave us a strange look.

“Where the hell did you go? I couldn't find you,” he snapped, pulling me closer.

“Wine spilled. I went upstairs to change.” I held up the empty garment bag.

He didn't care. He lifted his chin toward Alexander. “How do you know him?”

I raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile on my lips. “Met him at a club a few years ago. One-night stand. He just recognized me.”

Ethan laughed, but there was anger in it; he clearly thought I was bullshitting. “Wow, you get around.”

“Wen, listen—I don't care about your past. The Hayes Group is bidding against the Mellon Group on a huge resort project. Go apologize. Don't screw this up and embarrass the family.”

I rolled my eyes. What a clown.

When he couldn't convince me, he ditched me and pushed into the crowd.

“Mr. Mellon, about the Hamptons resort project—Hayes has the capital and the experience—”

Alexander coldly dodged the offered champagne flute.

“It's an open bid, Mr. Hayes. No backroom deals.”

“However, after your wife's little ‘performance' tonight, I have serious doubts about your company's judgment.”

He gave me a meaningful look.

Petty. My dumped sugar baby was holding a grudge.

The Hayes family had been good to me—his parents treated me like their own daughter.

I sighed and walked over with my most polite social smile.

“Mr. Mellon, I didn't expect you to remember me. Still mad about me accidentally scuffing your loafers at the Met Gala after-party? Name your price—I'll buy you a new pair.”

He sneered. “My shoes are custom. You couldn't buy them even if you wanted to.”

“I was just saying—next time you piss someone off, apologize before the statute of limitations runs out.”

“Sorry expires too.”

He turned and left.

The crowd stared.

Ethan was furious but couldn't explode in public.

He pulled me aside. “Why didn't you tell me you pissed him off? What about the bid now?!”

“That was all bullshit—the shoe story was made up. I didn't expect him to play along.”

“You…”

“I'll go to Mellon headquarters tomorrow and formally apologize. It'll be fine.”

“You think he'll still give you face after this?”

“Trust me, this will work.”