I was known in certain Manhattan circles as the most cost-effective sugar baby on the market, which sounded glamorous until you learned that my greatest financial demand from a billionaire had been a $14.99 group lunch order and a pink bicycle.
Chapter 4
Six months later, I married Liam in a small garden outside the city.
Arthur complained that our folding chairs looked cheap, then spent twenty minutes negotiating with the rental company over an incorrect delivery fee.
I had created a monster.
Our taco truck cost less than one arrangement at the Hayes Foundation Gala would have cost, and guests talked about the food for months. My wedding gown came from a consignment store, the flowers came from a wholesale market, and Liam proudly told anyone who asked that his ring had been purchased during a seasonal promotion.
Arthur gave us an envelope.
Inside was not a check.
It was a contract offering me a permanent position overseeing cost analysis and procurement at Hayes Global.
I read the salary.
Then I looked at him.
“This is too high.”
Arthur nearly dropped his cane.
Liam laughed so hard he had to sit down.
I took the job.
Not because I had married into the Hayes family, but because during my consulting work I had already saved the company several million dollars by consolidating fuel contracts and eliminating redundant vendors.
Arthur never again called me a gold digger.
He called me terrifying.
From him, that was affection.
Audrey disappeared from our social orbit. I heard she eventually sold the apartment building at a substantial loss after completing the required repairs. For all the trouble she caused, those repairs gave forty families safer homes, which seemed like a better ending than revenge.
Richard, my former manager, challenged his dismissal and received a settlement. The company finally paid my severance too.
Five thousand dollars.
I framed the check stub.
Liam thought that was ridiculous.
I reminded him that sentimental value was free.
A year after our wedding, we were eating takeout in our kitchen when he placed a glossy brochure on the table.
I looked down.
A yacht.
I slowly raised my eyes.
“Liam Alexander Hayes.”
“Before you get angry, it’s not for us.”
I waited.
“Grandfather wants to replace the Odyssey.”
I closed the brochure.
“No.”
“He told me to ask.”
“No.”
“He says the new one uses less fuel.”
“No.”
“He offered to name it after you.”
I stared at him.
“That makes it worse.”
Liam started laughing.
He came around the table and wrapped his arms around me from behind.
My pink Schwinn leaned against the garage wall outside.
Yes, we had a garage now.
No, I still had not let him throw away the bicycle.
Some things reminded you where you came from.
When I signed up for that companion website, I thought I needed money.
Liam thought he needed rebellion.
Instead, he learned that spending was not the same as living, and I learned that refusing every gift was not the same as independence.
Love was not a transaction.
It was not a five-million-dollar check.
It was not a yacht, a penthouse, a couture dress, or a diamond large enough to blind a waiter across a ballroom.
Sometimes love was a man who remembered to bring reusable containers.
Sometimes it was a woman who told a billionaire he was wasting money.
Sometimes it was two people changing each other without trying to own each other.
People still occasionally joked that I had started out as the cheapest sugar baby in Manhattan and somehow married the billionaire anyway.
They were wrong about one thing.
I never got the best deal because Liam was rich.
I got the best deal because somewhere between the flea markets, subway rides, coupons, and deli sandwiches, a man who could afford almost anything learned what actually had value.
And so did I.
THE END.⚠️ All characters and events are fictional. Do not imitate or apply them in real life. 😌😌😌
