Boyfriend for Sale

My girlfriend's name was Tricia Robinson. She was fair-skinned, beautiful, with long legs, and stood at 170 cm tall.

Her waist-length wavy hair and her year-round style of white blouses paired with charcoal gray skirts gave her a unique charm.

Tricia worked in real estate sales. Three years ago, her company held a sales event, and a colleague somehow got me to go as they were looking to buy a house.

While my colleague was interested in the property, I was captivated by her.

Under my persistent pursuit, we naturally started dating.

Tricia was the top saleswoman in her company, often outperformed the entire team combined and earning significantly more than me.

However, she never flaunted her success at home. Instead, she took great care of me, cooking up various nutritious soups daily, truly a rare gem who was as competent in the boardroom as she was in the kitchen.

Though Tricia and I had been in a stable relationship for three years and have shared intimate moments, she never stayed overnight at my place, always returning to her rented apartment.

She maintained her integrity wherever she goes, except for one thing.

This was our little secret, she liked to record our intimate moments, claiming it was to preserve our sweetest memories.

Her reliant expression made me feel happy, adding to her innocent charm.

Tricia was not only beautiful but also kind-hearted, attracting many admirers.

However, she maintained her integrity, and her close friends were all women.

To reassure me, she even introduced her female friends to me.

Through them, I witnessed the fragile nature of female friendships.

Some of these women, even at their age, insisted on adding me on Whatsapp after meeting me, openly making suggestive comments without considering Tricia's feelings.

To protect her innocence, I decisively blocked them and gently advised her to distance herself from them.

Tricia listened to me, and those women never appeared again.

Her obedience greatly satisfied my vanity, making me love her even more.

Strangely, despite earning so much, Tricia didn't own property in the city and frequently moves. In three years, she was moved six or seven times, citing various reasons like noise, ghosts, or harassment.

Since she was always been good to me, I never questioned her reasons.

As a writer who rarely concerned himself with worldly matters, having such an exceptional girlfriend made my friends and family said that I hit the jackpot.

I believed it too, until a recent incident made me question her.

That night, after dinner and some sex, it was already 11 PM. It was raining heavily outside. I was drenched in sweat, lazily lying in bed.

Tricia took a shower and came out wearing only my white shirt, her hair still wet.

"I need to go back," she said, calmly drying her hair with a towel.

"It's pouring outside. Why not stay the night?"

I pulled her into my arms.

She pushed me away coldly, "Did you forget our agreement?"

One of our rules was that she would never stay overnight at my place. I used to think it was because of her self-discipline, but after three years, why did she still insist on leaving?

Was she hiding something from me?

Sensing my displeasure, Tricia softly explained, "My family is conservative. My parents video call every night to check if I'm home, so I must go back. Darling, since I've decided to marry you, I need to be a virtuous girl. Otherwise, your family might not accept me, right?"

I thought about it and agreed with her reasoning.

Knowing her for so long, she truly was a virtuous girl.

So, I stretched and said, "I'll drive you back. It's late and raining, it's not safe for you to walk alone."

Tricia hesitated, wanting to say something but swallowed her words, nodding obediently.

I drove her to her apartment, and she insisted I not accompany her up.

I had a deadline to meet, so I didn't insist.

But on the way back, I noticed her work badge left in the car.

Knowing she would need it for work, I decided to return it.

As I parked near her building, I saw a familiar figure emerge from the hallway.

The woman wore a revealing black mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, heavy makeup, and had a cigarette in her hand, with a provocative aura.

This woman, with her seductive aura, was none other than my girlfriend, Tricia.

I thought I was seeing things, rubbed my eyes, but the woman before me, apart from looking exactly like Tricia, had nothing else in common.

If I hadn't known her so well over the past three years, I might have thought she had a twin sister.

I considered driving over to ask her why she was dressed like that so late.

But then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her.

The car had tinted windows, hiding the occupants.

Yet, Tricia clearly recognized it, swaying her hips as she happily got in.

My mind went blank as I realized why she never stayed over. She had another man outside, and I was the fool all along!

Furious, I opened the car door, ready to confront her.

What did I do wrong?

But as I stepped out, the car sped off like lightning, vanishing into the night.

I clenched my teeth, took deep breaths, trying to control my emotions.

Even if I had been betrayed, I needed to know who I had lost to.

Even though the man was driving a luxury car and worth millions, my ego wouldn't let me back down. I wanted to see what else he had over me besides money.

Driven by this impulse, I slammed the car door shut and floored the gas pedal, racing madly in the direction the car had disappeared.