Chapter 1
Everyone in my department knew how broke I was.
I stayed up all night taking notes for other students just to make fifty dollars. For money, I even swallowed every cruel humiliation Mason Blake, the spoiled heir of a wealthy family, threw my way.
Every day, he waved cash in my face and ordered me around. He had even crumpled bills into a ball, tossed them into the trash bin, and made me dig them out.
"Ella Reed, are you seriously that desperate for cash? Is there anything you won't do for money?"
My younger brother's dialysis bills left me no choice but to endure it. After midnight, I would sneak out to a seedy internet cafe, paint my face with so much makeup that even my own mother wouldn't recognize me, put on a wavy pink wig, and become a provocative livestreamer.
Then my top donor offered me fifteen thousand dollars just to meet me in person. The moment I saw that familiar figure sitting in an upscale restaurant, my smile froze.
Mason had no idea that the penniless class president he despised was the streamer he showered with money.
And I had no idea that the nemesis who humiliated me with cash by day was the shy, innocent top donor who blushed as he promised to take care of me at night.
*****
"Ella, pick up the money and get me an iced Americano. Keep the change as your tip."
Mason sat in the last row of the classroom, his long legs propped arrogantly on the desk as he casually tossed a twenty and a ten at my feet.
The students around us burst into laughter.
I was the class president, and everyone in the department knew how broke I was.
I wore the same faded school uniform every day and stayed up all night filling three notebooks just to earn a fifty-dollar scholarship.
I crouched down and calmly picked up the thirty dollars.
"Do you want sugar?" I asked.
Mason scoffed, his eyes full of contempt.
"Not even a dog would drink it with sugar. Hurry up."
I walked out of the classroom and slipped the money into my pocket.
My younger brother Lucas's dialysis was so expensive that running errands for coffee was nothing. If someone paid me to scrub toilets, I would do that too.
When I came back, I set the coffee on Mason's desk.
He touched the cup, frowned, and swept it straight onto the floor.
Brown liquid splashed all over my pants.
"It's not cold enough. Buy another one." He leaned back and watched me as if I were a clown.
I clenched my fists and took a deep breath.
"I don't have enough money, Mason."
He sneered, pulled out another 100 dollars, and slapped it onto the desk.
"That's enough for ten cups. Go."
I took the money and turned away again.
As long as he paid me, he could make things as difficult as he wanted.
At 11:00 p.m., my roommates were all asleep.
I quietly climbed out of bed and squeezed through the security bars in the first-floor window of the dorm.
Then I sprinted to a private booth at the seedy internet cafe behind the school.
I pulled out my cheap makeup kit and started painting my face.
False lashes, scarlet lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, and finally a wavy pink wig.
After changing into a skimpy spaghetti-strap dress, I forced a syrupy smile at the mirror.
I was no longer Ella Reed, the penniless student. I was Foxy Fairy, the seductive livestreamer.
I turned on the computer, logged in, and went live.
Within five minutes, dazzling effects exploded across the screen.
Eastridge's Truest Heart has entered the livestream.
He was my top donor—and the main source of my brother's medical expenses.
Eastridge's Truest Heart: [Foxy, why are you five minutes late today?]
I pitched my voice higher and pouted into the microphone.
"Babe, my part-time job wore me out today. Don't you feel sorry for me?"
Ten Super Rockets, worth three thousand dollars in total, immediately streaked across the screen.
Eastridge's Truest Heart: [Dance for me. You'll feel better.]
'p*****t,' I cursed silently, but my body obediently rose as I started swaying my hips.
I couldn't help it. He paid far too well.
By the end of the song, I was breathless.
My top donor sent another ten rockets.
Eastridge's Truest Heart: [Foxy, meet me this weekend. Is 15,000 dollars enough?]
Staring at the number on the screen, I swallowed hard.
Fifteen thousand dollars would cover Lucas's treatment for six months.
Foxy Fairy: [Of course, babe. See you this weekend.]
