The Billionaire's Rejected Simp

Mila's face darkened instantly. The air turned heavy, charged with her fury.

Finn Mason froze, eyes wide with genuine shock. Clearly, he had no idea about our arrangement—that Mila paid me a salary to play her devoted admirer.

Her glare could have drawn blood.

I didn't flinch. I kept my expression pleasant and detached—the perfect mask of a contract employee finishing his shift.

"Liam," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea how many men are desperate for my attention? How many would kill to take your place?"

She stepped closer, voice dripping with disdain. "That contract? The monthly payments? That was charity. You should feel honored I let you breathe the same air as me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Even without a cent, standing by my side is the greatest privilege of your pathetic life. Yet here you are, talking about money?" She scoffed. "You've disappointed me, Liam."

She pointed at the door. "Get out. I never want to see your face again."

Her chest heaved with indignation. In her twisted logic, money was irrelevant—I was supposed to be captivated by her charm, a slave to her beauty, not a contractor demanding a final invoice in front of her new toy.

I met her murderous glare calmly. Forget it.

She had been prompt with payments for three years. I could write off this last month as a parting gift.

We were done. No debts, no ties.

I had saved enough for the orphanage and the elderly neighbors' medical bills. Greed had no place here.

I offered her one last polite nod. "Understood, Ms. Pruitt. I wish you wealth and health in the future. Goodbye."

I turned and walked away without waiting for a dismissal.

As I crossed the threshold, a flicker of panic cracked Mila's icy facade. She stepped forward, hand reaching out as if to stop me.

She likely didn't understand her own reaction. To her, I was just a paid admirer, a jester for her amusement. Yet three years of constant presence had etched me into her life deeper than she realized.

My sudden departure left a vacuum—a suffocating emptiness she hadn't anticipated.

Just as her lips parted to call me back, Finn scrambled up from the floor. He moved close, voice dripping with false sympathy. "Good riddance to that ungrateful dog."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be upset, Mila. I'm here now. I'll take care of you a thousand times better than he ever could."

Mila seemed dazed. She ignored Finn's intense stare, her eyes still fixed on the empty doorway where I had disappeared.

A flash of pure malice darkened Finn's eyes, but it vanished instantly, replaced by his mask of gentle concern.

By noon, the internet was ablaze with rumors about me.

Paid trolls flooded the forums, branding me a soulless gigolo who preyed on wealthy women. The stories were elaborate—claiming I scammed heiresses to fund a lavish lifestyle and manipulated their emotions for cash.

The harassment wasn't just digital.

Vandals tracked down my rental apartment, splashing red paint and filth across my front door.

Through it all, I remained silent.