The Photograph in the Jewelry Box

I moved into the York residence.

The housekeeper, Clyde Hoffman, had already prepared silk pajamas, jewelry, and a full set of imported skincare products for me. After eating well and sleeping well, even my skin looked clearer.

Gone were the days of working until three in the morning, saving money by eating plain bread, being scolded by clients without daring to talk back, and thanking my boss for taking credit for my work. Goodbye, corporate slave life.

Kingston didn't come home for three days straight. But that didn't stop him from becoming, in my mind, a sugar daddy worthy of respect.

On the third night, my phone rang. "You can drive, right? Come pick me up."

It was Kingston. The background noise was loud.

When I walked into the private room wearing a long dress, several pairs of eyes turned toward me at once. Some were sizing me up, some were mocking, and some clearly had bad intentions.

Kingston sat in the middle, swirling a glass of alcohol in his hand.

"Kingston, this is the one your dad shoved onto you?" One guy grinned as he stared at me. "She's pretty obedient. You called and she came right away."

Kingston looked at me and raised a brow. "It's all an act. I've seen plenty of women like her. Pure on the outside, but who knows what they're plotting underneath?"

I pretended not to hear and walked up to him. "Are we going home?"

"What's the rush?" He leaned back lazily. "Sit over there and wait. We'll leave after I've had my fun."

I walked to the couch in the corner and sat down. I ordered a glass of orange juice and sipped it slowly.

The lights in the room flashed wildly. The music was deafening.

While talking with his friends, Kingston kept glancing toward me. Once. Twice. Three times.

I stayed quiet and well-behaved the whole time. My lashes casted shadows across my face, making me look like a soft woman anyone could bully.

"This is hilarious. Kingston got forced to get married out of nowhere. The more he thought about it these past two days, the angrier he probably got. Now, he called her out just to humiliate her."

"Is his way of humiliation just leaving Leah sitting there? She once worked an extra 20 hours to pay for her mom's medical bills. Her boss even threw a file in her face while yelling at her, and she didn't react at all. Sitting on a couch doing nothing is basically a reward for her."

"Meanwhile, Kingston noticed his friends secretly sneaking glances at Leah. He looks pissed."

It wasn't until one of the guys came over to talk to me that Kingston suddenly set down his drink and stood up. "Let's go," he said as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me outside.

In the car, I even thoughtfully helped him fasten his seatbelt. He turned and frowned at me. "Don't you have a temper at all?"

"I do," I replied. "But not with you."

Of course, I would not lose my temper at Kingston. To me, he was just a stranger. A stranger who randomly transferred 30 million dollars to me. Even if he slapped me across the face, I'd still ask if his hand hurt.

He suddenly fell silent. Maybe it was my imagination, but his ears looked a little red.

It was already 2:00 am by the time we got home. When I came out of the shower, Kingston was standing in the hallway, seemingly about to head to the kitchen.

When he saw me, he stopped in his tracks.

I was only wrapped in a bathrobe. My hair was still dripping wet.

Kingston's Adam's apple bobbed. He looked away, then looked back again. "You…" He cleared his throat. "Next time, put on some clothes before coming out."

"This is the doorway to my room," I said.

"This is my house." He frowned. "Stop trying to seduce me. I'm not interested in you. And don't think acting obedient will make me go easy on you. Just wait. I'll expose your true colors soon enough."

I was baffled.

After that day, Kingston seemed to have found a new form of entertainment. Every time he went drinking, he'd call me to pick him up. Occasionally, if he was in a good mood, he'd transfer me more money.

Looking at the growing balance in my account, I remained calm and went whenever he called.

One day, Kingston started bringing me to the racetrack. I stood by the side, watching the modified cars roar. Their tires screeched down the curved roads.

I frowned. I never understood why rich people always seemed to enjoy looking for ways to die.

Kingston drove the most aggressively. Every turn made it look like the car was about to fly off the track, only for him to pull it back at the very last second.

When Kingston finished his round, he took off his helmet, and his head was completely soaked. He walked toward me with twinkling eyes. "How was I?"

"Amazing," I answered.

He smiled. "Next time, I'll take you for a lap."

"No thanks." I shook my head. "I'm afraid of dying."

He chortled. "Coward."

The accident happened during another late-night mountain race in the rain.

I was waiting in the car at the foot of the mountain. Suddenly, a loud crash burst through the radio.

I couldn't reach Kingston. I immediately called emergency services and headed up the mountain to find him.

After walking for what felt like forever, I saw the broken guardrail and shattered pieces of headlights scattered across the ground. Kingston was covered in blood, trapped in the driver's seat, and unable to move.

I rushed forward, unbuckled his seatbelt, and tried to drag him out. But he suddenly grabbed my arm and weakly shook his head. "Just go. The car's going to explode."

"Stop talking nonsense." For the first time, I went against him. Gritting my teeth, I hoisted his arm over my shoulder and slowly dragged him out. Afraid the car might explode, I didn't dare stop and helped him down the mountain.

The rain poured harder and harder. The muddy mountain road made me slip three times. My elbows sustained scrapes, and blood oozed from the wounds.

Finally, I saw the rescue team's lights.

Only then did the last bit of my strength vanish, and I collapsed to the ground.