One Look, for the Rest of My Life

The day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I used the last two dollars in my pocket to buy a lottery ticket and won twenty million dollars.

Overwhelmed by a mix of grief and joy, I got drunk at a bar and ended up sleeping with a man I'd just met.

When I woke up and saw his handsome face, I tossed twenty thousand dollars at him.

"I'm keeping you. Is one hundred thousand a month enough?"

He stared at me blankly for a moment, then nodded. "Miss, my name is Julian Rhodes. You can call me Jules."

I spent all my money on him.

In what I figured were the last three days of my life, I decided to buy myself a burial plot, only to find my pockets were completely empty.

I went to find Julian Rhodes to ask him to lend me fifty thousand dollars, but instead I found him at the city's most expensive club with a group of Rich Kids.

A woman was draped in his arms, laughing as she asked him, "Young Master Rhodes, aren't you going to end your little game of Truth or Dare?"

Julian Rhodes casually blew a smoke ring. "What's the rush? I haven't had my fun yet."

"That old hag is pretty stupid. She believes whatever I say and gives me whatever I want."

...

One of his buddies chimed in teasingly, "Don't tell me she's figured out who you are and is trying to latch onto you for good?"

Before he could answer, I pushed the door open and walked in. "That's right. I've known who you are for a while. Give me one hundred thousand dollars, and I'll disappear immediately."

Julian Rhodes stared straight at me. "My dad was right after all. You lower-class women only care about money."

"Wasting even an ounce of emotion on you is a complete loss."

I feigned a relaxed tone. "Of course. Why else would I have spent five million dollars on you?"

He just laughed, angered. He threw a Black Card on the table. "You want money? Fine. Be my dog for a month. Come whenever I call."

"Alright."

"Whatever you want to play at, Young Master Rhodes, I'm game."

'Julian Rhodes probably hadn't expected this reaction from me.'

'In the script he'd imagined, I probably would have cried, made a scene, and then hysterically demanded to know why he had lied to me.'

'But he didn't know that I was someone who wasn't even afraid of death. Why would I care about being a dog for a month?'

'Besides, the time I had left was probably just enough to play out this final game.'

Moira Vance, who was sitting beside him, gave him a playful shove, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Young Master Rhodes, look at her. She'll do anything for money. She has no shame at all."

Julian Rhodes's expression turned even darker.

"Now, get out. Kneel by the door and wait for me."

"You can get up when I'm in a better mood. Otherwise, don't even think about spending a single cent."

The private room instantly filled with the sound of suppressed, mocking laughter.

The same Rich Kids who had once politely called me "Saozi" were now sizing me up like a clown, not even bothering to hide their contempt and glee.

I bent down to pick up the card. I flicked its surface with a fingertip, making a sharp, crisp sound.

I looked up, meeting Julian Rhodes's eyes, which were searching my face for any trace of humiliation or resentment.

'He was bound to be disappointed.'

I even managed a smile, my tone breezy. "Of course, Young Master Rhodes."

"Elara Gardner, you really are cheap to the core," he said, his expression grim.

I tucked the Black Card into a close-fitting pocket and patted it, looking for all the world like a grasping materialist who was thrilled to have gotten her hands on a huge sum of money.

"What can I do? I'm terrified of being poor."

"And since Young Master Rhodes is so generous, forget kneeling. I'd be willing to lie there all night for you."

With that, I turned, and without the slightest hesitation, pulled open the door to the private room and walked out.

And under the gazes of the people behind me, I obediently knelt on the cold floor.

The second before the door closed, I heard the sound of a glass shattering, followed by Moira Vance's alarmed cry:

"Oh my god, Jules, your hand..."