The Billionaire's Rejected Simp

I fixed a cold stare on him.

I'd already suspected he was behind the two bikers who jumped me last night. Hearing him confess it so brazenly lit a fresh spark of rage in my chest.

Finn didn't flinch. A smirk curled his lip.

"You really think your pretty face is enough to keep your job as Mila's lapdog?" He stepped closer, voice dripping with malice. "If I ruin that face, think she'll still keep you around?"

He reached out to pat my cheek—pure, dripping condescension.

Before his skin could graze mine, I snatched his wrist.

His eyes widened. He tried to yank free, but my grip was iron. Shock flickered across his face—clearly he hadn't expected the 'simp' to have any strength.

"My face isn't for you to touch," I said quietly.

His expression twisted. He raised his free hand to strike, cursing, "You ungrateful little—"

I didn't let him finish. My foot drove into his stomach, sending him flying backward.

The kick connected solid. He hit the floor hard, rolling and clutching his abdomen, curling into a ball as he groaned.

In the past, I would've endured his insults. Played the punching bag.

But after last night's ambush, I was done being the victim. Watching him writhe felt like releasing a breath I'd held for three years.

The commotion drew Mila from the bedroom.

She froze, staring at the scene, before her face contorted. "Liam! Have you lost your mind?"

"How dare you touch him? Have you forgotten who you are?" She pointed a trembling finger at the floor. "On your knees. Now. Apologize to Finn."

Seeing her rush to defend him confirmed it. They were definitely together.

Well, my career as a professional doormat was officially over anyway.

I ignored her command, walked over, and placed the thermos on the dining table. "Ms. Pruitt," I said, tone polite but distant. "Here's the millet porridge you asked for. Drink it while it's hot."

"Don't play dumb with me!" she screamed. "I said get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness! Did you hear me?"

On the floor, Finn peeked up, a gleam of malicious triumph in his eyes despite his pain. He loved seeing her defend him. Loved watching me get put in my place.

I looked at Mila and shook my head.

She gaped at me. For three years, I'd been her obedient dog. My defiance short-circuited her brain. Shock quickly morphed into blind rage.

She lashed out, swinging her hand toward my face.

I stepped back calmly, letting her hand slice through empty air.

"You dare dodge me?" she hissed, eyes burning. "Liam, you—"

"Ms. Pruitt," I interrupted, voice cool. "Read the contract. No hitting the face."

I straightened, meeting her eyes dead-on.

"Besides, our three-year agreement ended yesterday. You still owe me my final month's salary. I waited all night for the transfer. It never came."

I added dryly, "Maybe you were too drunk to remember. If it's not too much trouble, please settle the bill."