The Billionaire’s Reluctant Mistress

Daphne gripped the seatbelt tightly, her knuckles turning white. The tension in the car was thick, suffocating.

Out of nowhere, Logan’s calm, measured voice broke the silence. “Madison hasn’t been feeling well lately. You’re moving into Belleview Manor to take care of her.”

Though his tone was flat, there was no mistaking the commanding edge beneath it. The words made Daphne’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew there was no room for argument.

Belleview Manor.

The place Logan called home.

The place Madison, his fiancée, lived.

How much did Logan hate her to humiliate her like this?

But refusing wasn’t an option. After everything that had happened, Daphne understood one thing: Logan’s cruelty wasn’t just for show. It was calculated, deliberate. She couldn’t risk her father’s life by defying him.

When they arrived, Madison greeted them at the door. Her smile faltered momentarily as she spotted Daphne standing just behind Logan. But then, she recovered quickly, her expression warm and friendly.

“Daphne!” she exclaimed, her voice sweet as honey. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Daphne felt her face heat up, her cheeks burning with shame. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Madison’s gaze.

How could she when the woman standing before her had once been her best friend?

The weight of the betrayal—and the lies—hung between them like an unspoken curse.

When Madison found out Logan had arranged for Daphne to take care of her, she seemed genuinely pleased.

“I’m so glad you’re here to keep me company,” she said brightly.

Daphne opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Before she could force anything out, Logan strode past her, scooping Madison into his arms with an ease that made Daphne’s chest tighten.

“Why are you barefoot again?” he scolded gently, his tone soft and affectionately. “Don’t you remember the last time you got sick?”

Madison’s cheeks flushed as she protested, her voice barely above a whisper. “Logan, don’t do this. Daphne’s right here.”

Daphne stared at her toes, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. She was trapped, standing there like an outsider in a home that had once been hers.

Logan turned, his gaze settling on Daphne like she was an inconvenience he wanted gone.

“The maid’s room by the spiral staircase,” he said curtly. “That’s where you’ll stay.”

Daphne swallowed hard and managed a quiet “Okay.”

Without looking back, she walked to the small room he’d mentioned and closed the door firmly behind her, shutting out the sickly sweetness that clung to the air.

The maid’s room was tiny, almost claustrophobic, but that didn’t bother her. What did was the memories.

This wasn’t her first time at Belleview Manor.

Once upon a time, every corner of this house had been filled with laughter, love, and moments she had shared with Logan. Back then, the walls had held secrets that only the two of them knew.

But those days were long gone.

Now, those memories were like ghosts—haunting and unwelcome.

...

Late into the night, Daphne was startled awake by a tickling sensation on her face. Half-asleep, she blinked groggily, only to freeze when she realized Logan’s face was mere inches from hers, his dark eyes watching her in the dim moonlight.

Her heart leaped into her throat.

“Logan?” she whispered, panic rising in her chest.

Before she could react, he moved quickly, pinning her beneath him.

His voice, low and hoarse, sent a shiver down her spine. “Have you forgotten your place, Daphne?”

Of course, she hadn’t.

How could she?

She was nothing more than a mistress, a tool he used whenever it pleased him.

Even through the fabric of her clothes, she could feel his intentions.

Her voice trembled as she pleaded, “We can’t... Madison is still here.”

“She’s asleep,” Logan muttered, his hand sliding up the hem of her shirt.

“Logan, please,” she choked out, tears filling her eyes. “Not here. We can’t—”

Logan paused, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Why not? We’ve done it here before.”

His words made her chest tighten painfully. So, he remembered.

Leaning closer, he bit her ear lightly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Be louder. Madison’s upstairs. Maybe she’ll come down and save you.”

Daphne’s eyes locked with his, and for a moment, she thought she saw something other than anger or desire—a flicker of something she couldn’t name.

But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes.

The last shred of beauty she had once clung to—the love she’d hidden deep in her heart—was torn to pieces.

...

The next morning, Madison greeted her in the kitchen, her voice as sweet and kind as ever. “Did you sleep okay last night?” she asked, tilting her head in concern.

Daphne’s cheeks burned with shame. She looked down, unable to meet Madison’s gaze.

How could she face her after what had happened?

After a moment, Madison hesitated, then handed her phone to Daphne. “I... I wasn’t sure if I should show you this, but...”

Daphne frowned and took the phone. The moment her eyes landed on the screen, all the blood drained from her face.

It was a photo. From the night before. Her, stripping in the private room at the bar. Logan’s cold, detached face was visible in the background, as was the jeering crowd of men and women who had watched.