When I sold my dignity to become Mila Pruitt's lapdog, I knew what I was signing up for. The cold shoulders, the disdain, the looks of absolute disgust—I'd mentally prepared for all of it.
The online witch hunt had Finn Mason's fingerprints all over it.
I didn't have the energy to waste on him. Once I finished my final arrangements, I was leaving this city. And I wasn't planning on coming back.
Over the next few days, Mila's number kept flashing on my screen.
When I finally answered, her tone was the same as always—imperious, demanding. She wanted her emotional punching bag back. She wanted me at her feet, soothing her ego just like before.
Service without the paycheck?
Not a chance.
I blocked her number and deleted the contact.
Word was that Mila had been spiraling at the office, throwing tantrums and publicly dressing down Finn. I wondered if he could handle her twisted temperament.
Not that it mattered to me anymore.
On the fifth day of the online crusade, Finn and Mila showed up at the urban village. They found my rental.
Red paint splattered the walls of the dilapidated building. Insults scrawled in jagged letters screamed my name.
Finn smirked. "I heard Liam hasn't been back for days. Who knows where he's hiding? A gigolo living off women tends to make enemies. He's probably already latched onto his next sugar mommy."
Mila stared at the crumbling facade, her expression unreadable. "He lived here? The whole time?"
She murmured, "I gave him a fortune. Why didn't he take better care of himself?"
Sensing her pity, Finn's expression darkened. A flash of malice crossed his eyes before he masked it with concern. "Don't be fooled, Mila. I've seen the posts. Liam frequents high-end clubs with different girls. That kind of lifestyle burns through cash fast. The money you gave him is long gone."
He shook his head theatrically. "Thank god you woke up and kicked him out. Otherwise, that leech would still be clinging to you. Rumor has it he knocked up a few girls and ghosted them. They're out for blood."
As he spoke, Finn signaled to a spot nearby.
On cue, a group of women with caked-on makeup marched over, carrying paint buckets and shouting obscenities. They reached my door and splashed fresh paint against the wood.
"Liam Gilbert, you scumbag! I was blind to trust you!"
"You promised to marry me! You stole my savings and vanished!"
"I know you're in there! I'm pregnant! Take responsibility!"
"Open the door! Stop playing dead!"
As the women screamed and cursed, Mila frowned, her face twisting in distaste.
Finn shot the women an encouraging look. Emboldened, they screamed louder, hurling the filthiest curses at my door.
Mila sighed, disappointment etched into her features. She turned and walked away.
