The Sugar Baby's Rules: Faking It with the Billionaire

Single. The official state database flashed on my laptop screen, clear as day. I stared at the word, a cold smirk pulling at my lips.

Years ago, my "husband," Callum, hired a full production crew to build a 1:1 replica of City Hall. On the surface, the whole setup looked exactly like the real thing.

The fake wedding charade played out flawlessly, right up until the final step.

That actor playing the priest couldn't even memorize his lines, and then he actually had the nerve to ask us for a fiftydollar cash fee on the spot.

A marriage license fee that was already automatically deducted through the state's municipal system. I saw through the scam in a heartbeat.

I just kept my face blank and paid the cash. Call him out? Please. I wasn't that stupid. Living in a megamansion. Driving luxury sports cars.

Dining on toptier delicacies every single day, swiping an unlimited black card loaded with endless pocket money. No slaving away at a 9to5 corporate job.

No pressure to push out heirs for the family. Even when it came to our time in the bedroom.

Callum had the gorgeous face, the ripped body, and the flawless technique—all backed by relentless stamina.

Every time we hit the sheets, he was like a tireless perpetual motion machine, giving me mindblanking orgasms. But the absolute best part of it all?

There was no legal piece of paper tying me down. The second I got bored, I could pack my bags and vanish.

Chapter 1 Today was the third anniversary of the day Callum and I signed that "fake marriage contract" and threw that hypocritical wedding of the century.

Right now, that astronomical prenup was displayed right in the middle of a twentyfootlong dining table.

It was surrounded by tens of thousands of toptier red roses flown in directly from Ecuador, bathed in flickering candlelight.

At opposite ends of the long table sat a custom sevencourse haute cuisine menu crafted by a Michelin threestar chef, complete with an extravagant caviar tower.

It perfectly matched the pop diva's revenge single I had playing on loop: Blank Space. "Got a long list of exlovers, they'll tell you I'm insane, but I've got a blank space, baby, and I'll write your name…" Swaying to the intoxicating rhythm, I couldn't help but shake my little tail.

A realistic, fluffy bunny tail. The soft, adorable bunny ears pinned to my hair bounced right along with the beat. The maids surrounding me stared like I had lost my damn mind.

In this megamansion, from the head butler down to the lowest maid, everyone knew the marriage certificate I flaunted so proudly was a prop.

Back then, if Callum's astrologyobsessed grandmother hadn't brought in her personal psychic to read my natal chart, claiming I was the only woman who could secure his business empire… If Callum hadn't pursued me so relentlessly… How else would an ordinary girl with zero background like me end up as the mistress of this estate?

So, to my face, they played the part of respectful servants, "Madam" this, "Ma'am" that. But the second my back was turned, their expressions morphed into pure disgust.

Behind closed doors, I was just the "kept bunny." Too bad for them, I didn't feel a shred of shame.

I wore the title like a badge of honor. "Sloane, I heard that when you and the boss got your marriage license, there was a fiftydollar cash fee?" Florence stared at the framed prenup on the table, hesitating, but finally she couldn't hold it in.

Making sure no one was listening, she leaned in and whispered, desperately trying to wake up my critical thinking skills. But you can't wake someone who's pretending to be asleep.

Nobody was going to ruin my perfectly lazy, sugarbaby lifestyle! Not even if they meant well. "Yep, exactly! Fifty bucks, super cheap. Plus, they were so polite and efficient.

That City Hall clerk was absolutely amazing!" I flashed a bright thumbsup. My train of thought sped off in the exact opposite direction Florence was hoping for, never to return.

She opened her mouth to try another dose of reality, but I ignored her.

My bunny tail wiggled even harder as I belted out my battle anthem: "I can make the bad guys good for a weekend!" This entire provocative display landed perfectly in Callum's line of sight.

As I shimmied closer—radiating an intoxicating mix of cute, soft, and dropdead sexy—I saw the ice in Callum's cold eyes shatter, instantly replaced by a sudden flare of heat.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he dismissed the staff and stalked toward me. Nobody could resist a bunny girl who was equal parts sweet and lethal.

Especially not Callum; the man had a borderline obsession with pet bunnies. The second he was in range, I threw a handful of fiery red rose petals into the air. "Surprise!

Happy third anniversary, hubby!" The heat in his gaze visibly cooled, a subtle tightening in his jaw giving away his shift in mood.

I knew he didn't give a damn about things like anniversaries. Because in his mind, the position of his actual wife was vacant.

It had always been reserved for his untouchable muse, Celine.

Faking this marriage with me three years ago was nothing but a calculated business move to seize control of the family empire. He had no other choice.

Three years under the same roof meant I knew his triggers perfectly. Any topic remotely connected to our "marriage" was a massive red flag that he immediately shut down.

Chapter 2 Making a massive spectacle out of our third anniversary obviously pissed him off. After all, I was still occupying the title of his wife.

Even if he fiercely denied it in his heart, to the rest of the world, I was legally his. Callum was miserable. Which meant I was thrilled.

He disgusted me once, so I made it my mission to make him gag every single year.

As long as this marriage existed on paper, I was going to throw a wildly extravagant anniversary bash. Not just anniversaries.

Valentine's Day, Sweetest Day, Memorial Day weekend, Christmas. Any holiday that forced him to swipe his black card for an expensive gift, I celebrated it.

I always savored watching Callum during these moments. The sheer cognitive dissonance of him choking down his disgust while being forced to play along was pure entertainment.

But the absolute best part came when he finally snapped. He would always throw a massive check or a heavy, luxury gift at me just to make me go away. Exactly.

Pissing Callum off was just a bonus. I was really just here for the cash and the prizes. But this time, things took a slight detour. "I'm tired.

I'm taking a shower," Callum tried to brush me off with a curt response. Like hell I'd let that happen. These lucrative holidays were numbered.

Who knew when Callum would finally seize total control of his empire and kick me to the curb? I blocked his path, deliberately shaking the fluffy bunny ears on my head.

Callum had a bizarre obsession with tugging on them. Sure enough, his footsteps halted.

I immediately spun around, wiggling that criminally cute fauxfur bunny tail right in his line of sight. It was like flipping a switch.

His hand shot out, gripping the plush tail without a second thought, and he couldn't bring himself to let go. "Hubby, I went through all this trouble for you.

Don't you like my surprise at all?" I spun back around, pouting my lips into a picture of total innocence.

Caught redhanded with his fingers buried in my fauxfur, he obviously couldn't deny it. "No, I like it…" he muttered, clearing his throat. "I got you a gift, too." He dug through his Italian leather briefcase, finally pulling something from the very bottom.

A cold, pristine proxy certificate for shares in an offshore trust fund.

He stiffly informed me that this was his corporation's flagship taxevasion wealth management product this year, and he had just grabbed an extra copy for me.

Luckily, the embossed gold seal on the document looked vaguely celebratory, allowing him to barely save face. "Thanks, hubby.

I love it," I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a scream of pure ecstasy, forcing a polite, lukewarm smile.

While Callum was hiding in the master bathroom, probably congratulating himself on his quick thinking, I was clutching that priceless trust certificate to my chest, squealing and rolling around on the massive California King bed.

But the dopamine high didn't fry my brain. I knew this little goldmine didn't legally belong to me yet.

So, the second the shower turned off, I grabbed a drafted document and knocked on his study door, just like always.

He was so engrossed in his phone, practically salivating over the screen, that he didn't even notice me walk in.

Which meant I got a crystalclear view of Celine's latest Instagram story. [Finally finished the Paris design shows and back in familiar Manhattan.

The air here still makes my heart flutter.] The untouchable muse was back in the States? No wonder the great CEO Callum was so distracted tonight.

I snapped my gaze away before he could catch me snooping, deliberately sliding the "Voluntary Gift Agreement" across his mahogany desk to divert his attention. "This again?

We're married. Is this really necessary?" He frowned at the paper. "What do you mean, hubby? Are you planning to demand half of my gift back later?" You cheap bastard, I thought.

But on the outside, my lips curled into a pout. Right on cue, his phone screen lit up. Celine was calling. Chapter 3 Every cloud has a silver lining.

Who would have thought the "rival's" phone call would be the exact push Callum needed to sign that paperwork without a second glance.

Clutching that multimilliondollar offshore trust certificate, my dopamine levels were off the charts. After hanging up the phone, Callum's mood skyrocketed too.

He instantly activated his "saving myself for my true love" mode. Starting that very night, he officially moved into the guest bedroom. His excuse?

He was swamped with work, pulling allnighters, and our schedules were clashing too much to share a bed. Oh my god, oh my god!

I squealed, burying my face in the silk pillows and rolling around the massive bed in pure ecstasy. Sure, Callum's bedroom skills were toptier.

But even a Michelinstar meal gets boring if you eat it every single day for three years straight. It was the perfect time to switch up my palate.

Try something fresh, young, and entirely uncomplicated. Of course, since I was still living under Callum's roof, I had to keep things strictly platonic for now.

While Callum was drowning in the joy of reuniting with his untouchable muse, I was quietly sinking into a lowkey, flirty situationship with a hot college gamer.

Every time we hopped on Discord to run ranked matches together, our synergy was practically telepathic. I used to be pretty casual about gaming.

But ever since I met this younger guy, it had officially become my second favorite hobby. Right behind making money, stacking money, and hoarding money.

Since I was gaming day and night, the estate staff constantly saw me glued to my screens. A brand new rumor started circulating through the mansion.

The gossip was that my "husband's" cold shoulder had finally broken my spirit, forcing me to escape reality through video games. "Sloane, I heard that in our county, only City Hall can issue a legal marriage license, right?" Florence hesitated to speak up a dozen times.

Finally, late one night, she couldn't hold back her second reality check. I caught her drift immediately. Florence was trying to use the "only City Hall" fact to wake me up.

Hard to argue with, but I had my counterspin ready. "True, but the County can authorize temporary satellite locations for private VIP ceremonies." In reality, Callum had hired a crew to build a fake satellite office, not the actual City Hall.

Florence wasn't ready to give up. She opened her mouth to dissect my logic, but I just slipped my gaming headset back on and returned to my Discord call.

Still, I appreciated her relentless good intentions. So, on Christmas Day, when I handed out the annual bonus checks to the estate staff, I made sure Florence got the thickest one.

The entire house was thrilled. Florence couldn't stop smiling.

Right in the middle of this festive, highenergy atmosphere, Callum made a grand entrance—with Celine practically glued to his side. The air in the mansion instantly froze.

I was the only one whose pulse didn't even skip a beat.

I strolled right up to them, slapping on my sweetest, most cloying smile. "Hubby, you're back!" I practically chirped. "Oh, and who is this gorgeous lady?" Chapter 4 Finding out Celine had become the Chief Designer for the Callum family's jewelry empire didn't surprise me in the slightest.

On the outside, though, I slapped on a mask of wideeyed awe, showering the woman with relentless, overthetop praise.

I hyped her up like she was a goddess descending from the heavens until even Callum couldn't stomach it anymore. "Celine and I grew up together.

Her artistic talent is truly extraordinary." He held up a hand to cut me off. "That's right.

We're childhood sweethearts in every sense of the word." Celine shifted closer, intimately resting her head against Callum's shoulder.

Every single pair of eyes in the room instantly locked onto me. They were all waiting for the fallout.

How would the "lady of the house" react when the mistress showed up at her front door to flex? My reaction? A blank, unbothered stare. "That is so amazing!

Hubby's childhood sweetheart is my childhood sweetheart." I reached out and looped my arm firmly through Celine's, leaning my head onto her other shoulder.

If you can't beat them, join them. "Celine, you have to come visit us all the time!" I beamed at her. Silence dropped over the room. My reaction shortcircuited everyone.

Except for Florence, the rest of the staff stared at me with looks that clearly screamed she was a lost cause.

Florence looked like she was about to pull her hair out, practically vibrating with the urge to morph into a fly, buzz into my ear, and scream that the pair standing in front of me were a cheating bastard and a homewrecker, not childhood sweethearts.

To Celine, I was the annoying fly. She instinctively shrank back toward Callum, looking like she wanted to slap me across the face.

Callum's jaw tightened, caught between a rock and a hard place. The slight shift in his stance showed he wanted nothing more than to pull Celine closer.

But on paper, I was still his legal wife. He couldn't openly flaunt another woman right in front of me.

If word of this reached his grandmother before he fully secured the board… The realization clearly hit him.

Callum abruptly stepped back, forcing Celine's head off his shoulder, and muttered a stiff excuse about needing the restroom. Celine's face flushed red with irritation.

Muttering a cold excuse about an urgent design crisis at the company, she shoved my head off her shoulder.

I acted oblivious to her hostility, waving enthusiastically as she stormed out. The butler and the maids collectively closed their eyes. It was too painful to watch.

And it was exactly this "painful to watch" wife who made her final move.

That very night, I methodically swept through the walkin closet, stripping the estate bare of every limitededition Birkin bag, Patek Philippe watch, and piece of haute couture jewelry.

I walked out the front doors. I never looked back. Over the past three years, I had squeezed out every drop of luxury and siphoned enough cash to last a lifetime.

Now that the untouchable muse had officially crossed the threshold, my lazy, sugarbaby days were over. It was time to cash out.

My original plan was to wait until Callum fully secured his grip on the empire, lay my cards on the table, and exit with grace