Fake Sugar Baby, Real Consequences

Bang! Those redbottom Louboutin stilettos slammed into the bulletproof door of my custom, brandnew Maserati.

She battered the car body, each heavy thud ringing straight through my eardrums. I locked my jaw, gripping my phone with steady hands to record the scene.

Instead, the microphone picked up something that made my stomach churn. "I don't have any money on me." She purposely thrust her chest out, pitching her tone into a fake baby voice right at the dashcam. "How about I pay you back with myself?

I could be your exclusive sugar baby to clear the debt. What do you say?" Chapter 1 As the heir to a toptier corporate empire, I was used to the jealous glares.

I used to let it eat at me when I was younger, right up until I binged enough of those billionairetrophywife novels to figure it out.

All those sour comments were just cheap tricks from losers trying to get my attention.

They envied my birthright trust fund, but honestly, knowing that only made stepping on the gas pedal feel that much better.

Raised in a family that expected nothing short of a titan, I grew up fueled by grueling private tutors and resources most people couldn't even fathom. Naturally, I crushed my peers.

At twentytwo, I bought a custom Maserati with my own earnings as a little treat to myself. It only took the span of one dinner.

I walked out to find my car under siege by a woman dressed like a discount socialite.

She viciously kicked the door with her stilettos, wildly swinging what was clearly a knockoff Hermès Birkin bag against the bulletproof glass.

I stood there and watched her lose her mind. I felt absolutely nothing, though I did want to hold a moment of silence for the cheap hardware snapping off her fake purse.

I scanned the street. The closest security camera probably wouldn't catch a clear shot of her face. I pulled out my phone, stepped up right behind her, and hit record.

Watching the woman batter my car harder and harder while constantly glancing toward the restaurant entrance, my close friend Gideon grabbed my arm and pulled me two steps back.

The thuds battered against my eardrums. While I mourned my brandnew custom sports car, my brain rapidly punched the keys on an invisible calculator. One thousand dollars.

Five thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars… Finally, after who knows how long, the woman seemed to tire out. Her movements slowed.

She turned around and finally spotted us standing right behind her. The second her face entered my camera frame, my eyes locked on the screen. Perfect.

I finally got a clear shot of her face. The woman realized I was recording. She lunged, snatched the phone right out of my hand, and smashed it onto the pavement.

Well, there goes my evidence. Gideon's jaw tightened. He pulled me aside, shielding me from the woman's frantic glare.

The woman smoothed down her messy curls and curled her lip. "What are you filming?

Do you have any idea you're violating my image rights?" Gideon glanced at the dented bodywork. "You just trashed our car.

Are we not allowed to keep a little evidence?" The woman froze. Then, she took a few quick, tiny steps right up to Gideon.

She lowered her head slightly and softened her voice into a pathetic purr. "I'm so sorry. I've just been in a really bad mood lately." I stared at her, utterly floored.

You're in a bad mood, so you trash my car? Gideon was clearly at a loss for words over that excuse. He let out a breath. "Pay up." The woman snapped her head up.

She blinked her thick, false eyelashes, pushed her chest out, and puckered her lips into a shy pout. "I don't have any money on me.

How about I pay you back with myself?" "I could be your exclusive sugar baby to clear the debt. What do you say?" The entire street seemed to go dead silent.

Even the roar of the traffic was drowned out by her sheer audacity. Gideon pulled out his phone and punched in those three reassuring numbers.

He looked right at her. "You can try pitching that to the cops." Chapter 2 Seeing the call actually connect, Nevaeh stared at the lit screen.

She clawed at Gideon's sleeve, her voice cracking. "Don't… don't call the cops. I'll pay you back.

I'm willing to be your personal maid, or roleplay whatever you need to clear the debt, okay?" Gideon yanked his arm back, trying to shake off her grip like she was a parasite.

In the scuffle, Nevaeh managed to hit the endcall button on his screen. Meanwhile, I crouched on the pavement and picked up my shattered phone.

Miraculously, the camera was still rolling, capturing every pathetic second. I hit stop.

After a brief pause, I strolled over to the "inseparable" pair and offered a helpful reminder. "Um… that custom sports car actually belongs to me.

And on top of the car, you now owe me a new phone." I shook the spiderwebbed device in the air. Nevaeh's jaw slacked. She stared at me in pure disbelief.

Gideon finally wrenched his arm free and dialed right back without missing a beat. "911? I have a deranged woman sexually harassing me here.

She tried to assault me, and she just trashed a threehundredthousanddollar sports car.

Oh, and a brandnew phone." Watching Nevaeh's mouth open and close like a dying fish, I tilted my head. "I don't think he's in the market for a desperate personal maid to clean his mansion, sweetie." "Name." "Nevaeh." "Sex." "…Female." Gideon and I stood by, watching the nononsense female officer interrogate Nevaeh. "Why did you vandalize the vehicle?" "I…" Nevaeh stammered for a solid minute, completely unable to form a coherent sentence.

The officer waved a hand. "Take her to the precinct." As the victims, Gideon and I slid into the back of another cruiser.

At the precinct, my battered phone made its final contribution to society.

It played back the entire HD clip for the room, from Nevaeh smashing the doors right up to her offering to be an exclusive maid to clear her debt.

Listening to her own voice echo off the precinct walls, Nevaeh's face flushed a spectacular shade of humiliated purple.

Four or five hours later, they slapped two options on the table for her: pay the damages, or face felony charges. Nevaeh's eyeliner was completely smudged from crying.

She looked at Gideon pitifully, trying to work her tragic victim charm. "Please, I don't even have enough money in my account to pay rent…" I knitted my brows. The car was mine.

The phone was mine. Why did she keep staring at Gideon? I pointed at the ruined fake Hermès Birkin sitting next to her. "That bag is worth a decent amount.

Sell a few of those and you'll cover the repair bill." Nevaeh lowered her head, her voice dropping to a barely audible squeak. "This bag is… rented." I stared at the deep scratches on the leather from where she used it as a weapon against my bulletproof doors.

Looks like she owes someone a bag now, too. "So you're choosing a felony record?" Gideon cut in, his patience entirely evaporated.

Tears spilled out of Nevaeh's eyes, ruining the rest of her makeup. "I'll pay… just give me some time…" I nodded, forwarded the case details to my assistant, and pushed my chair back.

Walking out of the precinct with Gideon, a cold night breeze hit me, and I shivered. Reality suddenly slapped me in the face. We didn't have a ride home.

I had driven that exact custom sports car to pick Gideon up before dinner just to flex on him.

In the chilly air, Gideon pulled out his tiny microfiber glasses cloth and draped it over my shoulders with a deadpan expression.

Touched by his absolute chivalry, I kicked him in the shin and dialed my assistant. "Come pick us up." Chapter 3 "So why do you have a glasses cloth if you don't wear glasses?" Monday morning, Gideon and I stepped into the corporate elevator.

As two highly ambitious trustfund babies, naturally, we had to start our own empire first.

Sticking to the capitalist principle of never wasting a single cent, Gideon and I just leased out the entire penthouse floor of this highrise in the core business district, and we even made the previous landlord cover a year of our HOA fees. "It's for my sunglasses." I watched the glowing digital numbers tick upward. "Floor fifteen," a smooth automated voice announced.

The steel doors slid open. Gideon threw me a lazy wave and stepped out, only to violently jump right back into the elevator a split second later. I stared at Gideon.

His eyes were blown wide, his expression a mix of absolute horror and disbelief.

I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, but a sickeningly sweet, familiar voice cut me off. "Good morning, Mr. Gideon." Wow… that sounded familiar. Was that Nevaeh?

Gideon swallowed hard, turning his stiff neck toward me. "Does she look like the crazy girl who trashed the car and tried to pitch herself as my girlfriend the other day…?" Nevaeh stood by the elevator doors.

She had swapped out that trashy clubwear from the other night and squeezed into an obviously illfitting, cheap polyester business suit.

The collar was purposely tugged down an extra two inches. God knows how long she'd been camping out here. I gave Gideon a firm nod. "Nailed it.

That's her." Gideon smoothed down his wrinkled custom jacket. "Why are you here?" Nevaeh's smile froze.

Tears instantly pooled in her eyes, dropping one by one past her lower lashes.

Then, as if suddenly realizing she was on a hidden camera, she frantically wiped at the tears, bit her lip in a ridiculously exaggerated manner, and shot me a pitiful glance.

That entire victim routine could have walked straight into an audition for a lowbudget Hollywood Bmovie.

Meanwhile, that thick layer of waterproof foundation and her fake eyelashes didn't budge an inch! I took a step forward, genuinely marveling at her bulletproof makeup.

Nevaeh's tears instantly dried up the second I got close. She rapidly shifted gears, slapping on a terrified expression and shrinking away from me.

I admired her flawless waterproof look, leaned right next to her ear, and let out a soft laugh. "Honey, text me the brand of your setting spray, and I'll consider that shattered phone your tip for the day.

Deal?" I figured it was a winwin situation, but judging by the look on her face, she clearly didn't agree. Nevaeh lurched back to put distance between us.

Her face twisted into a mask of pure humiliation, like she wanted an entire ocean separating us. "Fine! I owe you money!

But I don't need your fake pity!" She practically screamed the words, drawing the attention of every single employee on Gideon's floor. Catching the stares, Nevaeh visibly preened.

She checked the reactions of the crowd, completely unable to hide the smug satisfaction leaking through her victim act. She finally felt like the main character.

I always highly appreciate anyone handing me free money. I patted her shoulder in approval. "Great!

Then pay up ASAP." I grabbed Gideon—who was still trying to hide in the elevator—shoved him out onto his office floor, and slapped the button for the seventeenth floor.

Just before the steel doors slid shut, I couldn't resist.

I raised my voice for the entire bullpen of eavesdropping employees. "Heads up, she loves to smash people's sports cars when she's in a bad mood!

Of course, if any of you happen to need a free personal maid, feel free to ignore this warning, because Nevaeh here absolutely excels at using that kind of desperate roleplay to clear her debts." The doors snapped shut, completely cutting off Nevaeh's frantic scrambling to explain herself.

Chapter 4 My phone wouldn't stop buzzing with rapidfire notifications from Gideon. [You're just going to abandon me like that?] [What if she harasses me again?!] [Blair, this is literally leaving a man behind enemy lines!] The notifications didn't stop pinging until I walked into my office.

A thought hit me, and I tapped out a quick reply. [Don't forget to ask her what setting spray she uses.] It took a long time before my screen lit up with a single, aggressive reply. [Be a human being for once.] I leaned back lazily in my leather executive chair.

My gaze drifted up to the top shelf of my bookcase, landing on a row of those brokegirlbossup paperbacks: The Alpha Mafia Boss's Substitute Bride, The Billionaire's Exclusive Contract Lover… Longburied memories suddenly flooded back.

The stereotypical billionaire romance tropes from my teenage years finally had faces.

I eagerly snapped a photo of the book spines, sent it to Gideon, and attached a message. [Doesn't this look exactly like you and Nevaeh?] Flipping through the plotlines in my head, a terrifying realization slammed into me.

Every single one of these billionaire romances had an indispensable character besides the domineering CEO and the naive, sweet girl—the vicious, wealthy female antagonist.

Who exactly were these evil female rivals? Let's see… childhood friend of the CEO, filthy rich, gorgeous, constantly hovering around him… Wait. That was literally me!

The phone on my desk buzzed. Gideon had just sent a full sixtysecond voice memo. I decisively chose to go blind, burying my head deep into a stack of heavy contracts.

During my lunch break, I casually flipped open The Alpha Billionaire's Fatal Temptation.

Reading the braindead ending where the oldmoney heiress—who conveniently shared my exact name—was driven into bankruptcy by an intern who hadn't even finished high school, I rolled my eyes and fed the book straight into the paper shredder.

Disgusting. Bad vibes.

Fully committed to my capitalist grind, I decisively picked up the financial reports my assistant had brought in, letting the cold, hard numbers scrub that garbage plot out of my brain.

In the elevator after work, Nevaeh tailed right behind Gideon and slipped inside. My pupils dilated.

The classic trope flashed through my mind: the claustrophobic CEO and his naive little bunny trapped in a broken elevator.

I couldn't help but scan the sleek, metallic walls of the cab. It couldn't be a coincidence… right?

Gideon snapped his fingers right in front of my face. "What are you staring at?" I snapped back to reality.

I looked at Gideon's confused face, then at Nevaeh—who was surprisingly not acting out but kept shooting me calculating sideways glances.

I lunged and mashed the button for the nearest floor, the 11th. Ignoring Nevaeh's squawk of protest, I grabbed Gideon's arm and dragged him out onto an unfamiliar corporate floor.

I didn't care about ruining her little scheme. The actual problem was that Gideon legitimately suffered from severe claustrophobia.

Gideon looked utterly bewildered, but he didn't pull his arm away.

He let me drag him all the way to the stairwell doors. "What's wrong?" Before I could even open my mouth, a wave of chaotic voices erupted from the floor behind us.

Chairs scraped violently against the carpet, frantic footsteps echoed down the hall, and the word "elevator" carried over the panic. I knew it. My gut instinct was dead right.

Nevaeh had cast herself as the main character.

She was delusional enough to smash a custom sports car in broad daylight just to recreate a meetcute without even checking who owned it.

Rigging an elevator to trap Gideon inside was child's play for her. Gideon and I walked back to the elevator bank.

Staring at the dead digital display and the panicked crowd dialing 911, Gideon went rigid. I traced my fingers against his palm to ground him.

He grabbed my hand back, his grip tight enough to bruise. I was absolutely certain this blackout wasn't an accident.

Nevaeh didn't have the brains or the clearance to cut the power to a commercial elevator midride by herself. Someone else was helping her. Or rather, using her.

Chapter 5 Nevaeh landing a job at Gideon's firm was completely off my bingo card.

Even if she started running background checks the second she met us, there was zero chance she could legitimately bypass security and HR to infiltrate his company in just a few days.

The only reason Gideon hadn't thrown her out was probably to bait the bigger fish hiding behind her. That ridiculous carsmashing stunt was likely preorchestrated too.

Whether her backer explicitly ordered her to do it or if she was genuinely just that incredibly stupid, we didn't know yet. Gideon's shoulders were still rigid.

I kept a firm grip on his hand and led him down the stairwell. When we reached the underground garage, Gideon shoved a shopping bag toward me. I peeked inside.

It was an entire collection of highend waterproof makeup. I looked up, raising an eyebrow at him.

Gideon let out a helpless sigh. "Didn't you tell me to ask her what setting spray she uses?" I caught the heated gaze in his eyes, the air between us suddenly shifting into something thick and dangerous.

My lips parted to speak, but a wailing cry echoed through the empty concrete garage, rapidly getting closer. "Mr. Gideon! I thought I'd never see you again!" The tension shattered.

Gideon's expression instantly did a oneeighty, staring in the direction of Nevaeh's voice with a mix of absolute horror and disgust. Nevaeh was truly built different.

She smoothly ignored my existence and launched herself straight at Gideon's chest. Gideon dodged swiftly, sidestepping her like she was a highly contagious biohazard. Thud.

With a sickening crunch, Nevaeh's heavily contoured, surgically enhanced nose slammed dead center into the concrete pillar. Tears instantly burst from her eyes.

I stood off to the side, taking deep, steadying breaths and desperately trying to recall the saddest moment of my life just to keep myself from cackling out loud.

Gideon shot me a frantic look, gesturing for me to get in the car before he practically sprinted toward the driver's seat.

My fingers barely brushed the door handle when a sudden force shoved me aside. The heavy door slammed shut. Nevaeh had already hijacked the passenger seat.

Every single move she made was a pathetic imitation of a naive romance novel heroine. But this repeated, blatant disrespect finally sparked a cold irritation in my chest.

I turned on my heel and walked away. Near the garage entrance, I ran straight into a group of employees getting off work.

They were still gossiping about the elevator blackout, but immediately straightened up when they saw me. "Good evening, Ms. Blair." "Ms. Blair, how come you aren't leaving with Mr.

Gideon today?" The air went dead silent. The other employees frantically shot warning glares at the guy who spoke, clearly indicating he had just stepped on a landmine.

A new female intern stepped out of the group, her jaw set in anger. "Ms. Blair, that Nevaeh girl was screaming for Mr.

Gideon the whole time we were trapped." "She kept telling everyone that you were using your family's money to wedge yourself between her and Mr. Gideon.

She said some incredibly nasty things." Her voice trailed off, her fists clenched at her sides.

I let out a light laugh, as if I had just heard the punchline to a terrible standup routine.

I arched an eyebrow. "Do you honestly believe an heiress with a tenbilliondollar trust fund needs to play homewrecker for a woman who can't even afford to buy her own car?" The group rapidly shook their heads.

The intern hesitated before pushing on. "But a lot of people over in Mr. Gideon's division actually believe it.

I even heard them whispering that it finally makes sense how someone as incompetent as Nevaeh managed to get hired at his firm." Bingo. Her hiring was definitely an inside job.

I lowered my eyelashes to hide my calculating gaze. "Blair!" Gideon's frantic voice echoed behind me. He sprinted over, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Before I could even look at him, the intern boldly stepped between us, glaring daggers at the billionaire CEO. "Do you have business with our boss?" I quickly realized she had mentally cast Gideon as the twotiming playboy antagonist.

Swallowing a laugh, I patted her shoulder. "It's not what you think.

Honestly, he's the biggest victim in all of this." Chapter 6 I glanced at the angry red scratch marks gouged into the back of Gideon's hand, instantly realizing why it took him so long to escape that elevator and catch up to me.

I lowered my voice, shooting a sharp look at the intern. "Keep this quiet for now." "Mr. Gideon…" Nevaeh gripped the hem of her cheap skirt and trotted toward us.

Seeing the small crowd gathered at the garage entrance, she visibly froze. Then, she rapidly changed course, marching straight up to my side.

She pitched her voice so every single person in the vicinity could hear. "Ms. Blair, I know you despise me, but please don't make things difficult for Gideon.

I really don't want to be the reason your relationship is ruined." She perfectly drew the battle lines, painting herself as the tragic, selfsacrificing victim.

I knew exactly who that little performance was for. Since she had just bragged about her special relationship with Gideon, she naturally had to solidify the delusion.

The intern's face flushed with absolute rage. She opened her mouth to tear into her, but I shot her a warning glance, shutting her down. I wanted to see Nevaeh's next move.

If she was trying to use the fake title of Gideon's girlfriend to pull some corporate espionage, my best play was to let her ego inflate until it popped. "I highly doubt a complete stranger could ever affect my relationship with Blair." Gideon's voice sliced through the air.

His face was darker than I had ever seen it, absolute ice in his tone. Nevaeh frantically scanned the room, desperately hunting for a scrap of sympathy.

Instead, she found the firm's executives—dripping in tailored designer suits—staring at her like she was a pathetic clown.

The crushing reality of the class divide slammed into her, leaving her looking like a thief caught dead to rights.

The loud chatter of the second wave of Gideon's employees echoed from the stairwell. Seeing us blocking the exit, they instantly stopped talking, the tension suffocating.

Nevaeh nervously dug her fingernails into her palms, staring at Gideon, terrified he was about to publicly humiliate her further.

I gave Gideon a barely perceptible shake of my head. He turned on his heel and strode toward his parking spot.

I followed, but purposefully let my pace drag half a beat slower than Nevaeh, who immediately scrambled after him.

To anyone watching, it looked like I was the desperate one clinging to a taken man.

Listening to those idiotic whispers branding me a homewrecker, I didn't even have the desire to defend myself.

I threw a condescending glance down at Nevaeh, who was still aggressively playing the victim card. Let her have her moment.

Once the building cleared out at midnight, I couldn't wait to see how she planned to trudge to the bus stop miles away in those agonizing, cheap stilettos.

Back at my penthouse, I scrubbed my makeup off, grabbed a glass of vintage Pinot, and sank deep into the velvet sofa.

I halfwatched some trashy reality TV show where desperate people tore each other apart for cash, occasionally tapping out replies to Gideon's texts.

Thinking back to Nevaeh trapped outside the Maserati, pitifully slapping her palms against the tinted bulletproof glass as we drove off, my mood instantly skyrocketed.

Suddenly, the manufactured drama on my screen didn't seem so braindead anymore. My phone screen lit up with a photo from Gideon.

His purebred Ragdoll cat—every single strand of fur practically oozing oldmoney arrogance—was perched elegantly on its custom tower.

The backdrop was his penthouse's floortoceiling windows overlooking the dazzling, billiondollar skyline.

Completely captivated by the feline's sheer beauty, I held down the microphone icon. "Smoking out the corporate spy desperately trying to slip a plant into your bed?

You're making a killing on this deal.

I want a strict three percent cut of the project's net profits." Maybe the pivot from cute cat pictures to cutthroat corporate extortion was a bit too aggressive.

Gideon's chat bubble flashed typing… over and over again. After a solid minute, he just sent a single question mark.

Another text popped up. [What if we're overthinking it, and she's just genuinely unhinged?] I stared at the glowing pixels, tapped my manicured nail against the glass, and fired back. [Then I get a five percent cut.] Another familiar question mark appeared.

I elaborated. [The extra two percent is compensation for emotional damages and my ruined reputation as a homewrecker.] A few seconds later, a voice memo popped into the chat.

I hit play. Gideon's low, magnetic voice practically vibrated through the phone speaker. "I didn't realize my virtue was worth a five percent margin to you.

How about you just acquire me directly? You can have my entire net worth, no strings attached." Chapter 7 My breath hitched. Damn! That is an insane amount of money.

But as a highly ambitious capitalist, I couldn't just admit that out loud. I stubbornly typed back: Not interested.

I didn't get a single reply from Gideon for the rest of the night.

Early the next morning, Gideon texted me that he had to fly out of town on a sudden business trip, leaving me to drive to the office alone—a rare occurrence.

I felt inexplicably annoyed for no good reason. The second I stepped off the private elevator, my assistant Stella jogged up to me in her stilettos, practically glowing.

She leaned in and whispered, "Ms. Blair, Mr. Gideon had a 'love letter' delivered to your desk first thing this morning." I raised an eyebrow.

I'd heard of romantic breakfast deliveries, but what the hell was a romantic document?

Pushing open the double doors, I saw an M&A contract involving tens of millions of dollars in net profits, arrogantly arranged into the shape of a heart, lying quietly on my marble executive desk.

Heh, this kind of romance reeking of filthy corporate money? I absolutely loved it. I resigned myself to gathering the incredibly expensive pages one by one.

I didn't dare ask Stella to do it. Don't ask why. Even a billionaire heiress has to save face sometimes. A knock echoed on the glass. "Come in!" I called out.

It was the intern from the parking garage yesterday. She carefully clicked the door shut and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ms.

Blair, Nevaeh is trying to organize a mandatory teambuilding retreat for the entire division right now." She specifically put heavy emphasis on the word entire.

I instantly understood the play. With the alpha CEO out of town, Nevaeh was trying to flex her imaginary authority as the boss's girlfriend.

It was the perfect opportunity for her to pull a stunt. Still, suddenly pulling an entire Wall Streetlevel division off the floor during market hours?

I could only hope Gideon's executives had kept their guard up. Otherwise, some highly lucrative, lowhanging fruit would end up sliding right into a rival's pocket