Chapter 1

In the CEO's office of Farrow Group, the air still carried the heat of a couple's passionate encounter in the adjoining lounge.

Maisie Stafford lay limp in Jameson Farrow's arms. With a trace of impatience, he pushed her away and headed straight for the shower.

She seemed used to it. Rising from the bed, she slipped on a robe and opened the wardrobe to pick out a clean suit for him.

Jameson returned from his shower. His towel was wrapped around his waist, water droplets trickling down the muscled lines of his upper body. It was a fine sight, like a scene straight out of a classic movie.

Maisie held the suit while helping Jameson dress and tie his tie. At more than six feet tall, he towered over her. She had to stand on tiptoes, straining her outstretched arms.

Noticing her effort, Jameson leaned down slightly. His dark, cold eyes scanned her flushed face as he reminded her. "Don't forget your pills."

"Got it. I won't." She nodded.

The idea of breaking up had been on Jameson's mind these days. A pregnancy at this point would complicate things, so he had been extra cautious with contraception.

Once he was dressed in a clean suit, he glanced at her calm face and said lightly, "You've done well these years. Name whatever you want as compensation for our breakup."

"Got it." Maisie nodded obediently.

Jameson narrowed his eyes. Any other woman might have cried and begged to stay at the mention of a breakup, but not Maisie.

That was the reason he had kept her by his side for five years and never wanted a different woman. She was smart, reasonable, and easily appeased with money.

Their first night had been an accident. After getting drunk in a hotel from an alcoholic business meeting, Jameson stumbled into Maisie's room. He had a vivid impression of that night, so he brought her back as his secretary the next day.

He drew her in, circling his arms around his waist.

They might be breaking up soon, but he never rejected the idea of getting close to her body. If anything, he enjoyed it far more than he admitted.

As Jameson held her close, she felt slightly dazed, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat. After a moment, she gently pushed him away and put some distance between them.

Dependence was dangerous, especially with Jameson.

"So when are you planning to kick me out, Mr. Farrow?" she asked, looking up with a faint smile.

He leaned in and playfully nipped her nose. "Before our official breakup, you could try a little harder."

"What for?" She tugged at his tie, feigning ignorance and treating his words as nothing more than flirtation.

They both knew the reason for the breakup. His first love was back, and it was time for Maisie, her stand-in for five years with a similar face, to step away.

Jameson's eyes fell on her pink lips. His desire sparked again with just one glance. It wasn't long before he pulled her back under.

After some time, Maisie got up. She put on her secretary uniform after picking it up from the floor.

Meanwhile, Jameson leaned back, propped on an elbow. His gaze lingered on the curves of her sexy back. Even the plain office wear clung to her in a way that distracted him.

No wonder CEOs from other companies couldn't stop glancing her way during their business negotiations earlier that morning. Their distraction caused Jameson to cut the conversation short.

They stepped out of the lounge and into the massive CEO's office. The main workspace alone covered more than two thousand square feet.

Switching to work mode, Maisie handed over the contract. "Today's negotiation went well, Mr. Farrow. They agreed to a price of a billion dollars over our target.

"Here's the finalized contract. Your signature, please."

Jameson scoffed and tossed the signed contract aside. "Consider it mercy I didn't bleed them dry. Don't wear this outfit next time. Get a bigger size and something a janitor should wear."

"Of course, Mr. Farrow. I'll be ready whenever you need me." Maisie smiled politely like the perfect secretary, but a hint of distance lingered beneath.

With that, she turned and walked away.

Jameson's gaze followed her as she left, and he fell into deep thought. She was like a perfect robot, sharp and disciplined at work, alluring and sultry in bed. She was so perfect in all aspects that he couldn't help but keep her by his side for five years.

For the past five years, Maisie had never once asked to be his wife. Was that generosity or calculation?

After leaving the CEO's office, Maisie returned to her desk, her body aching. She leaned over the surface to catch her breath before sitting up.

Nearby, her colleagues started gossiping in hushed tones. "Have you heard? Mr. Farrow is crazy about our new CFO, Lauren Eastwood. He's been scandal-free and stayed away from women these days, just for her."

"How do you know he's had no women? If he's that devoted, why hasn't he married her already? I don't think he likes her that much."

"He'll marry her. Not many women would risk their lives to save the man they love, but Lauren did."

Maisie listened quietly as she switched on her computer. As she typed out a resignation letter, Jameson's words echoed in her mind.

"You could try a little harder."

All these years, she had always been clear that their relationship was a transaction, and all she wanted was money. She had fought through hardship, living in poverty, and nearly lost her life for it, so she would never go back.

As for Jameson, he was never someone she could ever handle or hold onto.

At 6:00 pm, Maisie left the office. After walking for five minutes, she stopped outside a kindergarten.

Chapter 2

Maisie's son, Noah Stafford, attended a nearby kindergarten.

As an unregistered child, public schools refused to accept him. The private kindergarten close to Farrow Group was the only option. It was expensive, but otherwise fine.

Fortunately, Jameson had always been generous with money. Otherwise, on her salary alone, she could barely keep the two of them afloat.

At first, Maisie was worried that with the kindergarten being so close to Farrow Group, Jameson might discover her school runs. But he never once cared about her private life, nor did he realize that her personal details on her onboarding form were falsified.

Maisie just stepped through the gates when she saw Noah surrounded by a group.

"Why did you hit my boy, you illegitimate kid?" Dwayne Boone, a pot-bellied man dressed like a nouveau riche, asked sharply while pointing at Noah.

Noah's face was flushed with rage. "I'm not an illegitimate kid! I have a mommy!" he shouted before landing a sharp kick on Dwayne's shin.

Dwayne howled in pain. "See? As I said, he's just an illegitimate brat with a mother and no father to teach him manners!"

Noah clenched his fists as tears welled up in his eyes. Glaring at the man, he stubbornly repeated. "I'm not an illegitimate kid! I have a mommy!"

"One of the parents in my circle works at the same company as your mother, and he knows everything. Your mother might look all pure and clean, but everyone knows she's just the boss' mistress selling herself on the side."

The crack of a sharp slap rang through the air. Maisie had rushed up to Dwayne and slapped him.

Clutching his red, swollen cheek, Dwayne glared at Maisie in disbelief. His expression twisted instantly with rage.

At nearly six feet tall and weighing over 275 pounds, he loomed over her like a gigantic mountain and closed in on her. Then, he rammed into her and gripped her collar.

Forced to step back, Maisie stumbled. At more than 5.5 feet tall, she was no match against brute force. She lost her balance and collapsed onto the ground.

"Mommy!" Noah ran to her and threw his body in front of hers, his arms spread wide to protect her. "Don't be afraid, Mommy. I'll protect you."

Dwayne's fury intensified. He grabbed them both, one in each hand, and glared at them so hard they flinched.

His spit flew as he roared at Maisie. "How dare you lay a hand on me?"

His grip on her wrist was so tight that it felt like he could crush her bones. Steadying herself, Maisie pulled Noah to her side and stood protectively in front of him before facing Dwayne.

Her hair was disheveled, her clothes smeared with dust, while the torn collar exposed her skin and collarbones underneath. She looked utterly wretched while onlookers fixed their gazes on her and Noah.

Maisie lifted her chin, still looking beautiful in her disheveled state.

Though panic ran wild in her chest, she forced a steady voice and replied, "There are cameras here. Apologize to us and withdraw your son from this school. Otherwise, I'll call the cops."

"Fuck an apology!"

Dwayne ripped a wad of cash from his wallet and tossed it into the air. Banknotes scattered like rain as he continued, "How many nights would you have to work to make this much, huh? Fuck! I'm warning you. Try calling the cops, and I'll kill you!"

Dwayne yanked his son along, climbed into a luxury car, and drove off.

Maisie trembled slightly as she remained rooted to the spot. Noah clung to her leg and looked up at her with solemn, steady eyes.

"Don't be afraid, Mommy. Call the cops."

The teacher rushed out and tried to smooth things over. "Ms. Stafford, maybe it's best not to involve the cops. Your son beat Chunk up so hard that he had a nosebleed, and his father is on the school's board of directors."

Maisie's lips curled into a cold smile, and she shot the teacher a look of disdain. "In that case, this second-rate school is no place for my son. He'll be leaving."

That resolve settled deeper into her chest. She would leave Farrow Group and end the five-year secret love affair with Jameson. With the breakup compensation, she would have enough to start anew.

Maisie was determined not to let Noah live her life over again. She would make sure he grew up with dignity.

Taking his hand, she asked as they headed home, "Why'd you fight him, Noah?"

"He insulted you. No one gets to hurt my mommy, and I'll protect you with everything I have." His young face carried a rare austerity for his age.

Hearing that, her heart felt crushed by a heavy stone, and she could barely say a word.

Noah was only five, yet he had already seen too much of the world's cruelty. That was her failure as his mother.

Chapter 3

20 minutes later, Maisie and Noah arrived home on foot. It was a 600-square-foot run-down apartment in an aging residential block.

"Watch some TV, Noah. I'm going to change."

Maisie rushed into her bedroom, shut the door, and leaned heavily against it. Her body curled inward as she covered her face. At last, she could no longer hold back her emotions, and silent tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

Humiliation, fear, anger, and helplessness crashed over her, swallowing the fragile dignity she had fought so hard to maintain.

After crying all her emotions out, she headed for the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

"Mommy, why are your eyes red?"

"Something got into my eyes, and I rubbed a little too hard."

Noah didn't call her out and felt sorry for Maisie. He knew she was lying, but he also understood she preferred him to play dumb.

"Oh." He shifted his gaze back to the TV. On the finance channel, Jameson was giving an interview.

Staring at the face so much like his own, Noah rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Strange… The two of them looked really alike. Could this man on the TV be his daddy?

It would be great if Jameson were. No one would ever pick on Maisie again.

The thought took root in Noah's young mind like a seed. For the first time, he was eager to find out who his father was.

The phone on the table buzzed. Noah looked at the screen and saw the caller ID "Mr. Farrow".

"Mommy, it's your boss."

Maisie dried her hands, took the phone, and stepped onto the balcony. She shut the door behind her before answering the call.

"Where are you?" His deep voice hummed in her ear.

Maisie replied, "At home."

Jameson said curtly, "Send me your address."

"Why?"

"I want to see you."

She gave a small laugh, and a cold glint flashed in her eyes. That sounded more like Jameson wanted her body instead.

Maisie asked, "Why don't you pick me up?"

"Dress up and wear that red backless dress."

"Got it."

After getting changed, she walked out of the building, where a Maybach waited at the curb. It seemed vastly out of place against the stench of drains and cracked pavement.

When she got in, Jameson wore a deep frown as he looked out the window. "You live here?"

"Yeah, it's close to work. I'm waiting to move into a high-end apartment once I get your breakup compensation."

Jameson glanced sideways at her calm face, falling deep into thought.

Was Maisie really doing this just for money? Why wouldn't she try clinging to him for endless wealth? Why did she seem so eager to break up?

He didn't understand her, not that he wanted to. Soon, they would have nothing to do with each other. There was no point in wasting time guessing.

He handed her a file and started the car. "Read this. Your job tonight is to win over Mr. Westin."

Maisie looked momentarily caught off guard. She thought he was taking her out for fun. "You want me to stay with another man?"

"I'll be there. It'll just be drinks and some small talk."

"Got it." Her hand slipped into her purse and brushed against the canister of pepper spray she always carried. She figured Jameson was already tired of her and was passing her along like doing a favor.

His curious eyes flicked to her hands as she searched her bag and caught sight of the bruises on her wrist.

Suddenly, the tires screeched as he slammed the brakes and pulled to the side of the road.

Maisie lurched forward from the inertia, but his arm shot out to steady her, while his other hand caught her wrist.

She blinked confusedly, only to look up and meet his sharp glare before she could even process what was wrong.

"What happened to your wrist?" Jameson questioned.

"Oh, I got into a fight."

"Don't lie to me."

"A lady in the neighborhood accused me of stealing and grabbed me. Since I didn't steal anything, I fought back."

"You cried?" Jameson tilted her chin up. The swollen red rims of her eyes were nearly impossible to miss even under the heavy makeup.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. Throughout five years of having Maisie by his side, he had never seen her shed a tear, except in bed.

Could Maisie have cried until her eyes were swollen over some petty feud with a stranger? Like Jameson would ever believe her lie.

"Are you worried about me, Mr. Farrow? Thanks, I guess." Her gratitude came from her heart, and she really meant it.

"Can you even survive after leaving my side?"

Maisie laughed softly and offered no answer. Not only could she survive, but she could also raise a child on her own. He was too concerned about nothing, wasn't he?

Seeing her avoid his probing question, Jameson could feel his frustration simmer. The air in the car turned oppressively tense, and neither of them spoke again until they pulled up outside Jorvia's most luxurious club.

He led her into the largest private room. And once they entered, a plump, balding man waddled toward Maisie, his leering eyes fixed shamelessly on her.

Chapter 4

"Lauren, you're back!" The balding man, Lewis Westin, called out.

"Good evening, Mr. Westin." Maisie smiled politely and deftly stepped out of reach of his open arms. Having spent years at Jameson's side, she had seen enough of these occasions to know how to maneuver.

"You look stunning tonight, Lauren."

Lewis' ogling gaze scanned her body without restraint, yet she continued smiling. She and Lauren shared an uncanny resemblance in their facial features, so it wasn't a surprise that she would be mistaken for the latter.

"Mr. Westin, allow me to introduce the new CFO of Farrow Group, Lauren Eastwood."

The words rained on Maisie like ice water. So, that was it—she was the decoy tonight.

A beloved woman like Lauren had to be protected and should never be here under these lights. That work belonged to a stand-in.

Watching Jameson laugh and trade jokes with the men around him, she already knew how tonight would end. She would be a toy for either of them, or passed from one pair of hands to another.

When the group settled, Jameson claimed the seat at the head of the table, while Maisie was arranged to be seated between Lewis and several other men.

Lewis handed her a glass of red wine and grinned. "Drink with us, Lauren. The more you keep us company, the quicker I'd agree to sign any number on the dotted line."

She took the glass of wine and flashed a graceful smile. "Your generosity never fails to amaze me, Mr. Westin."

She tipped her head back and drained the wine in one go.

"Excellent!" Lewis gave her a thumbs-up, while his other hand slid under the table and brushed against her thigh.

Every hair on Maisie's body rose in alarm. Though she was greatly disgusted, her expression never wavered.

She had attended enough business dinners and met all sorts of men. That included men like Lewis, who eyed her with great interest but dared not go overboard, usually reined in by Jameson's presence.

But tonight, she could tell that Jameson was completely handing her over to some other man's arms. Sure enough, he had finally grown tired of her and was ready to discard her like trash.

Sitting at the head of the table, Jameson emanated an icy air as he toyed with his crystal glass, acting like an outsider through and through.

Maisie lowered her gaze, hiding the dread in her eyes. She had to accept the fact that she would have no one but herself to rely on tonight.

Raising her chin, her smile widened on her face, blooming like a scarlet rose in full fire.

Bewitched, the men leaned in and poured her glass after glass, determined to get her drunk tonight.

"Red wine's too mild. What about whiskey?"

Jameson's deep voice cut across the table and elegantly instructed the steward to switch the wine as he swirled his glass.

With his approval, the men grew more reckless. "Mr. Westin, about that plot of land, you'll hand it to Farrow Group now, eh?"

Maisie's charming smile remained as she raised her glass and drank again. But the liquid wasn't as sharp as she had expected.

That was when she realized that the steward had poured her water, not whiskey.

Her eyes flickered up at Jameson, startled. Across the room, he casually met her gaze, his cool stare laced with a trace of fury, almost like he was sulking.

What was Jameson even upset about? Maisie chuckled to herself. He had orchestrated this game, hadn't he?

He set his glass down and was ready to speak when his phone rang. After checking the screen, he got up and strode out of the room.

"Is your wife calling to check in, Mr. Farrow?"

Jameson responded with a faint smile. Instead of denying the question, he turned to talk gently into the phone.

"I'm with Mr. Westin discussing a project. You don't have to come over. Don't worry, I'll handle it. Just get some rest…"

As he left through the door, Maisie's heart sank. She could tell that the caller on the other end of the line must be Lauren.

"Lauren, I booked a presidential suite upstairs. Don't go home tonight, and let's have some fun." Lewis' hot breath with the smell of alcohol grazed her cheek as he leaned in.

His arm clamped around her waist, and his hand slid brazenly into the collar of her dress, heading for her chest.

With a shudder, Maisie shoved him hard. "Don't touch me!"

"Playing hard to get, huh? If you want my signature, let me taste you." A lecherous grin widened on Lewis' face as he dragged her into his arms and groped her chest. While struggling, she stomped her heels into his foot with all her strength.

"Fuck! You're no fun!" he yelped in pain and shoved her away in irritation.

She staggered back and could have steadied herself. But instead, she let herself fall and knocked her head hard against the edge of a table.

Pain drilled into her skull, and her vision was instantly bathed in a pool of red. Blood trickled down her jawline and pooled on the floor.

In a daze, the metallic tang snapped her back to when she was sixteen and selling drinks in a bar. She had gotten into a fight and had been kicked to the floor for refusing to play nice with wandering hands. Their boots had ground her ribs until she spat blood.

Maisie had survived worse. These fools had no idea they were underestimating her.

Taking a deep breath, she fought back the pain and got up, bracing herself against a chair. Staring wide-eyed at her bloodied face and vicious eyes, the men shifted uneasily.

"Mr. Westin, look closely. I'm not Lauren."

Lewis froze. He knew it was true. The pampered Lauren would never stand here, bleeding so profusely yet not yell a word of pain.

"Who are you then?"

"Just a secretary."

"Figures." He sneered, his face twisting in a look of disdain. "You might be prettier than Lauren, but dirtier and more stubborn. Any man with taste wouldn't touch you."

Maisie let out a cold laugh. "Are you refusing to honor the contract? With such an obvious wound, calling the cops would…"

"You did that to yourself! Don't you dare pin this on me!" Lewis snapped, gritting his teeth. He hadn't expected her to act so shamelessly.

She took a deep breath and evenly replied, "If we make a commotion out of this, and the cops walk in, they'll see half of the city's business elite with a bleeding woman. The headlines will ruin you, distinguished people, won't they?"

Lewis' eyes flared wide as he stubbornly insisted. "Stop it! I'm not signing anything! Now, get out!"

Maisie lowered her gaze and exhaled slowly.

She hadn't come expecting to close the deal either. At this point, walking away alive and safe was her best retreat…

With that, she swiftly grabbed her bag and turned toward the door.

Chapter 5

Maisie stumbled out of the private room, her vision blurred from the blood clinging to her lashes.

With unsteady steps, she turned the corner and ran into Jameson, who was speaking into his phone.

"Don't worry, I didn't drink. Women? I only brought Ms. Stafford along."

Maisie rarely heard him speak with such patience and realized that this rare softness was reserved only for Lauren.

She turned on her heel and walked the other way. Right now, the gash on her forehead throbbed so much that she didn't even have the energy to entertain him. All she wanted was to keep her distance.

When Jameson hung up the call and returned to the room, the scene had fallen into chaos. Several men were sprawled on couches, holding onto scantily clad ladies.

He scanned the room, and his brows furrowed when he saw no sign of Maisie.

"Where is she?" His voice cut through, sharp and cold.

Lewis lifted his head from a woman's chest, and his lustful grin vanished after seeing Jameson. "No one would dare touch your woman, Mr. Farrow. That lady's got claws, and I should be thanking the heavens that I got out alive."

The faintest trace of surprise flickered in Jameson's gaze. He listened in silence as Lewis recounted the earlier scene and respectfully handed over a signed contract.

A smirk tugged at Jameson's lips. Maisie had grown up now after years by his side.

He remembered her first time at a business dinner years ago, when she would whisper timidly if she might embarrass him. Back then, he even had to pick out a gown and jewelry for the young and innocent Maisie.

No way he would let these smooth-talking assholes ruin her, the flower he had nurtured from a seedling. If she were to leave him one day, he would at least make sure she was matched with someone worthy.

…

Maisie didn't go home right away after leaving the hotel. The wound was so severe that if Noah saw it, he would lecture her with adult-like seriousness before sulking alone. The poor kid had grown up way too fast.

Instead, she rang her best friend's doorbell. Haley Hedgeworth opened the door, and when she caught sight of Maisie's blood-streaked face, she shrieked in horror. "Ghost!"

"Coward." Maisie brushed past her into the living room and headed straight for the TV cabinet, searching for the medical kit with practiced ease.

"Mae, what happened?" Haley settled onto the couch and handled her wound.

"My boss dragged me along to a drinking event, and one handsy jerk got too bold."

"Jameson's gone too far. How dare he treat you this way?"

"Ouch… It hurts."

Haley got too carried away with fury and accidentally jabbed her cotton bud into Maisie's wound. Snapping out of it, she apologetically cupped the latter's face.

"Sorry for hurting you, babe. I just can't help feeling sorry for you. You've been with him for five years, and he still won't make you his wife?"

Maisie froze. "What made you think of it that way?"

For her, it had always been a voluntary transaction between her and Jameson—her youth and body in exchange for his monetary support for her and Noah. With no feelings involved, she should never expect anything more.

"Come on. Countless women throw themselves at a man like Jameson, sitting at the very top of the social hierarchy pyramid.

"How could he have willingly stuck with you for five years? Tell me what your secret is. What spell did you cast to keep him addicted?"

"Don't talk nonsense. I'm quitting, so don't bring him up again." Maisie smiled.

"Quitting? That's sudden."

"Yeah. For a man like him with unpredictable mood swings, keeping or discarding someone is just a matter of mood."

Haley sighed. "What about you? Don't you feel reluctant to leave?"

They said a woman's heart always followed where her body had given itself. Five years wasn't five days, so how could Maisie feel nothing toward Jameson?

"What's there to feel reluctant about? He's given enough." She lowered her gaze, her expression calm and emotionless.

Most people would call Maisie greedy and jeer at her for selling herself for money. But after knowing her for ten years, Haley had seen the hardships and humiliations that Maisie had gone through. Anyone else forced to endure that path would have long broken down.

"I'm with you no matter what you decide, Mae." Haley's eyes welled up with tears as she pulled her in for a hug.

Maisie's heart warmed. She patted Haley's shoulder and reassured her. "Enough with the tears. I need to get going now. Noah's waiting for me."

"Stay safe. Call me when you're home."

Maisie changed out of her sultry red backless dress and slipped into Haley's casual sweats. A car she had ordered was already waiting, and the ride back to her neighborhood was smooth.

Just as she stepped out of the cab, she saw Jameson's assistant, Sheldon Hayes, walking over. "Ms. Stafford, Mr. Farrow has sent me here to take you to Golden Shores."

Golden Shores was Jameson's private beachfront villa, which he had built, and it was never for sale.

The place existed because Jameson and Maisie were in the area for a business negotiation once, and she had offhandedly said the sunrise at the beach had to be breathtakingly beautiful. So, he bought the place and built a villa just for the sunrise view.

"I'm not feeling well tonight, and I might need some rest." She pointed at her injury on her forehead and said, "Sheldon, please explain to him for me."

Like always, Sheldon's robotic expression betrayed no emotion. "Ms. Farrow said if you come tonight, Golden Shores is yours."

Maisie froze, wondering if she had misheard.

"Ms. Stafford, are you coming?"

This time, she didn't hesitate. "Yes! Give me ten minutes, and I'll dress up."

Turning around, she called Haley and quickly explained the situation. Then, she requested her help in coming over to keep an eye on Noah before following Sheldon to Golden Shores.

On the way, one thought lingered in her mind. Jameson would most certainly propose a breakup tonight.

She would take Golden Shores as the breakup compensation and gracefully vanish from his world.