My husband dragged a weeping, pregnant damsel through our front door and called it true love.
I didn't see a homewrecker. I looked at that face—the absolute peak of the "innocent-but-seductive" aesthetic—and my occupational instincts kicked in.
I slapped an S-tier contract on the table with a backhand flick. "Base salary twenty thousand. Full benefits, social insurance, and housing fund. Sign or walk?"
The damsel froze. My husband looked like he'd swallowed a fly.
Eventually, his entire harem became my cash cows.
Mistress Number One, the manipulator? She became the top livestream sales queen. Number Two, the tough older sister type? My best corporate spy. Number Three, the tragic white lotus? My personal executive secretary.
The day Christian Delgado went bankrupt, he knelt in the street, begging me for a handout.
I sat in the back of my Rolls-Royce, watching the revenue charts climb on my tablet.
"Husband," I murmured, rolling down the window just an inch. "Thank you for recruiting such high-quality talent for me."
——
When Christian pushed open the front door, I was in the living room reconciling the quarterly accounts.
Trailing behind him was a girl shrinking into herself, dressed in white cotton, eyes wide and watery.
"Mia, this is Candy."
Christian tossed his coat onto the armrest with casual arrogance.
"She's pregnant. She'll be living here from now on. Put some thought into taking care of her."
I looked up from the spreadsheets. My gaze swept over the girl—forehead to chin, collarbone to ankle.
Tsk.
That bone structure was a gift from God.
The market was starving for exactly this face: natural, fragile, with an innate sense of brokenness. A little packaging and she'd be the poster child for "Tragic Beauty."
"How far along?" My voice stayed flat.
Christian frowned. My lack of hysteria unsettled him.
"Two months. Mia, I know you're upset, but the Delgado line needs an heir." He straightened his tie, trying to look authoritative. "Be the bigger person. You're still Mrs. Delgado. Your position is secure."
I ignored him. Stood up. Closed the distance to the girl.
She recoiled, hiding behind Christian, her small hand clutching the hem of his jacket. Tears spilled the exact moment I looked at her.
That timing. That explosive emotional control.
Wasting this talent on a domestic drama was criminal. She belonged in a livestream booth, guilt-tripping viewers into buying skincare products.
"Candy White, correct?"
I pulled a document from my briefcase.
"S-tier rookie contract. Base salary twenty thousand dollars. Thirty-seventy commission split. Full insurance and housing fund."
I held the paper out. "Stick with me. Three months, you'll have five million followers. Six months, your sales break ten million."
"Breach fee is five million," I added. "Sign, and you'll make more in a single day than whatever allowance Christian gives you in a month."
Candy froze.
Her large, tear-filled eyes blinked twice, radiating pure innocence.
"Big sister... you... aren't you going to hit me?"
I laughed softly.
"Why would I? If I scratch your face, I have to pay to fix it." I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Men are consumables, honey. Money is a necessity."
I shot a look of disgust at Christian. "What can he actually give you? A shameful title? Last season's discounted handbags?" I turned back to Candy. "Work for me, and in six months you won't need a man like him. You can buy your own."
Christian finally snapped out of his stupor. He snatched the contract and ripped it in half.
"Mia! Are you insane? She's here to carry my son, not to be your money-making tool!"
I looked down at the shredded paper with genuine regret.
"Christian. That was imported archival paper. Fifty dollars a pack."
I met his eyes coldly. "You wasted three sheets. I'm deducting it from your allowance this month."
His face turned red. He pointed a trembling finger at my nose.
"Is there anything in your head besides money? You cold-blooded witch!" He scoffed. "I have my own money."
Calmly, I pulled a fresh copy from my bag.
"The money is what I earn. The credit card bills are what I pay."
I nodded at the girl's neck. "Even that necklace you bought for Candy? Charged to my supplementary card."
