I fixed a cold stare on him.

I'd already suspected he was behind the two bikers who jumped me last night. Hearing him confess it so brazenly lit a fresh spark of rage in my chest.

Finn didn't flinch. A smirk curled his lip.

"You really think your pretty face is enough to keep your job as Mila's lapdog?" He stepped closer, voice dripping with malice. "If I ruin that face, think she'll still keep you around?"

He reached out to pat my cheek—pure, dripping condescension.

Before his skin could graze mine, I snatched his wrist.

His eyes widened. He tried to yank free, but my grip was iron. Shock flickered across his face—clearly he hadn't expected the 'simp' to have any strength.

"My face isn't for you to touch," I said quietly.

His expression twisted. He raised his free hand to strike, cursing, "You ungrateful little—"

I didn't let him finish. My foot drove into his stomach, sending him flying backward.

The kick connected solid. He hit the floor hard, rolling and clutching his abdomen, curling into a ball as he groaned.

In the past, I would've endured his insults. Played the punching bag.

But after last night's ambush, I was done being the victim. Watching him writhe felt like releasing a breath I'd held for three years.

The commotion drew Mila from the bedroom.

She froze, staring at the scene, before her face contorted. "Liam! Have you lost your mind?"

"How dare you touch him? Have you forgotten who you are?" She pointed a trembling finger at the floor. "On your knees. Now. Apologize to Finn."

Seeing her rush to defend him confirmed it. They were definitely together.

Well, my career as a professional doormat was officially over anyway.

I ignored her command, walked over, and placed the thermos on the dining table. "Ms. Pruitt," I said, tone polite but distant. "Here's the millet porridge you asked for. Drink it while it's hot."

"Don't play dumb with me!" she screamed. "I said get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness! Did you hear me?"

On the floor, Finn peeked up, a gleam of malicious triumph in his eyes despite his pain. He loved seeing her defend him. Loved watching me get put in my place.

I looked at Mila and shook my head.

She gaped at me. For three years, I'd been her obedient dog. My defiance short-circuited her brain. Shock quickly morphed into blind rage.

She lashed out, swinging her hand toward my face.

I stepped back calmly, letting her hand slice through empty air.

"You dare dodge me?" she hissed, eyes burning. "Liam, you—"

"Ms. Pruitt," I interrupted, voice cool. "Read the contract. No hitting the face."

I straightened, meeting her eyes dead-on.

"Besides, our three-year agreement ended yesterday. You still owe me my final month's salary. I waited all night for the transfer. It never came."

I added dryly, "Maybe you were too drunk to remember. If it's not too much trouble, please settle the bill."

Mila's face darkened instantly. The air turned heavy, charged with her fury.

Finn Mason froze, eyes wide with genuine shock. Clearly, he had no idea about our arrangement—that Mila paid me a salary to play her devoted admirer.

Her glare could have drawn blood.

I didn't flinch. I kept my expression pleasant and detached—the perfect mask of a contract employee finishing his shift.

"Liam," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea how many men are desperate for my attention? How many would kill to take your place?"

She stepped closer, voice dripping with disdain. "That contract? The monthly payments? That was charity. You should feel honored I let you breathe the same air as me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Even without a cent, standing by my side is the greatest privilege of your pathetic life. Yet here you are, talking about money?" She scoffed. "You've disappointed me, Liam."

She pointed at the door. "Get out. I never want to see your face again."

Her chest heaved with indignation. In her twisted logic, money was irrelevant—I was supposed to be captivated by her charm, a slave to her beauty, not a contractor demanding a final invoice in front of her new toy.

I met her murderous glare calmly. Forget it.

She had been prompt with payments for three years. I could write off this last month as a parting gift.

We were done. No debts, no ties.

I had saved enough for the orphanage and the elderly neighbors' medical bills. Greed had no place here.

I offered her one last polite nod. "Understood, Ms. Pruitt. I wish you wealth and health in the future. Goodbye."

I turned and walked away without waiting for a dismissal.

As I crossed the threshold, a flicker of panic cracked Mila's icy facade. She stepped forward, hand reaching out as if to stop me.

She likely didn't understand her own reaction. To her, I was just a paid admirer, a jester for her amusement. Yet three years of constant presence had etched me into her life deeper than she realized.

My sudden departure left a vacuum—a suffocating emptiness she hadn't anticipated.

Just as her lips parted to call me back, Finn scrambled up from the floor. He moved close, voice dripping with false sympathy. "Good riddance to that ungrateful dog."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be upset, Mila. I'm here now. I'll take care of you a thousand times better than he ever could."

Mila seemed dazed. She ignored Finn's intense stare, her eyes still fixed on the empty doorway where I had disappeared.

A flash of pure malice darkened Finn's eyes, but it vanished instantly, replaced by his mask of gentle concern.

By noon, the internet was ablaze with rumors about me.

Paid trolls flooded the forums, branding me a soulless gigolo who preyed on wealthy women. The stories were elaborate—claiming I scammed heiresses to fund a lavish lifestyle and manipulated their emotions for cash.

The harassment wasn't just digital.

Vandals tracked down my rental apartment, splashing red paint and filth across my front door.

Through it all, I remained silent.

When I sold my dignity to become Mila Pruitt's lapdog, I knew what I was signing up for. The cold shoulders, the disdain, the looks of absolute disgust—I'd mentally prepared for all of it.

The online witch hunt had Finn Mason's fingerprints all over it.

I didn't have the energy to waste on him. Once I finished my final arrangements, I was leaving this city. And I wasn't planning on coming back.

Over the next few days, Mila's number kept flashing on my screen.

When I finally answered, her tone was the same as always—imperious, demanding. She wanted her emotional punching bag back. She wanted me at her feet, soothing her ego just like before.

Service without the paycheck?

Not a chance.

I blocked her number and deleted the contact.

Word was that Mila had been spiraling at the office, throwing tantrums and publicly dressing down Finn. I wondered if he could handle her twisted temperament.

Not that it mattered to me anymore.

On the fifth day of the online crusade, Finn and Mila showed up at the urban village. They found my rental.

Red paint splattered the walls of the dilapidated building. Insults scrawled in jagged letters screamed my name.

Finn smirked. "I heard Liam hasn't been back for days. Who knows where he's hiding? A gigolo living off women tends to make enemies. He's probably already latched onto his next sugar mommy."

Mila stared at the crumbling facade, her expression unreadable. "He lived here? The whole time?"

She murmured, "I gave him a fortune. Why didn't he take better care of himself?"

Sensing her pity, Finn's expression darkened. A flash of malice crossed his eyes before he masked it with concern. "Don't be fooled, Mila. I've seen the posts. Liam frequents high-end clubs with different girls. That kind of lifestyle burns through cash fast. The money you gave him is long gone."

He shook his head theatrically. "Thank god you woke up and kicked him out. Otherwise, that leech would still be clinging to you. Rumor has it he knocked up a few girls and ghosted them. They're out for blood."

As he spoke, Finn signaled to a spot nearby.

On cue, a group of women with caked-on makeup marched over, carrying paint buckets and shouting obscenities. They reached my door and splashed fresh paint against the wood.

"Liam Gilbert, you scumbag! I was blind to trust you!"

"You promised to marry me! You stole my savings and vanished!"

"I know you're in there! I'm pregnant! Take responsibility!"

"Open the door! Stop playing dead!"

As the women screamed and cursed, Mila frowned, her face twisting in distaste.

Finn shot the women an encouraging look. Emboldened, they screamed louder, hurling the filthiest curses at my door.

Mila sighed, disappointment etched into her features. She turned and walked away.