Addicted To His Fake Sugar Baby

throb behind her eyes that matched the rhythm of her racing heart. The room wa

lt like sandpaper. And then she saw it. The black phone was lyin

calls. Al

e new

getting

ing her completely alert. She sat up, her head swimming for a moment before settling. Panic was

en from her nightstand, her ha

m the s

o is da

expose my r

th. She picked up the phone again, her thumb hovering over the chat history. She scrolled up, past

ee months ago. The sender field didn't say Oero. It

ting to a labyrinth of shell corporations. This wasn't a company; it was a ghost, designed to be untraceable. But her engineering mind didn't give up. She cross-referen

but one of the most aggressive, ruthless firms on Wall Street. A

andful of deleted photos. Most were nothing, but one caught her eye. It was a close-up of a man's hand on the steering wheel of a luxury ca

he piece detailed his rise to power, his complete lack of empathy, and his brutal takedowns of rival firms. And there, on his wrist, was the watch. T

who attempted to embezzle funds was never seen again after a contentiou

error. Oero was Dereck Campos. She had been catfishing one

tment felt like they were crushing her. She was a dead girl walk

on the screen. She had to reply. Silence was an admission of gui

t. No, too formal. MoonCookie was a sugar bab

y. I caught a terrible flu, I can barely get out o

wrong on her tongue. But it was the language of the

e stared at the screen, her breath held

e faster than

Prov

d command. He didn't believe her. Of course he di

were sick to a man who was thousands of miles away, without showing h