He Treated Me As Her, I Left For Good

Chapter 2

I'd skipped work the entire previous day, and my academic advisor, Arnold Jacobs, caught up with me in the lab first thing. "Brenda, how's that research project we talked about coming along?"

I gave some vague answers and offered a few empty promises. Arnold sighed at me with a disappointed look—but finally, he let me off the hook, and I thought I was free to leave.

Right as I was about to head out, someone blocked my path. It was Elliot Kemp, Charles' assistant.

My heart, which I'd finally calmed down, turned chaotic all over again. I'd already let that night go, so why was he still reaching out to me?

His face popped back into my mind instantly. That was the moment I decided to accept his arrangement.

From Elliot, I finally learned his name was Charles—the young heir of the Gibson Group. It all made sense now why he'd offered me a sugar baby contract out of nowhere.

Aside from the weekly intimate meetings at the hotel and the steady monthly deposits hitting my bank card, my life stayed the same monotonous routine—home, the lab, and the hospital.

I also had to deal with Charles' drunk outbursts every now and then. I'd picked him up from bars more times than I could count.

I still remembered the shocked looks and quiet whispers from his friends the first time they met me. After countless encounters, though, their gazes turned subtle and loaded with unspoken meaning.

A week later, I got a text from Charles as usual. It was short and plain.

Charles: Old spot. Come get me.

I couldn't stop thinking about his face—the one I'd been craving day and night—and ended up speeding on the drive over.

But the second I stepped into the private booth, I realized I'd been tricked.

"Come sit here." Charles sat boldly in the middle of the sofa and waved me over.

I glanced around the room at all the people there, hesitated for a few seconds, then walked over and sat down beside him.

"What do you do for work, Brenda?" a man asked.

"She's a medical PhD student," Charles answered for me before I could speak.

More questions followed from the others, and Charles responded to every single one on my behalf.

They drank and chatted about trivial, boring stuff. I sat quietly eating my food, feeling fairly at peace—if only his large hand wasn't resting on my waist.

I leaned in close to Charles' ear. "I need to head to the bathroom." He patted my head in response, giving me permission to leave. Instead of heading straight for the restroom, I stepped into an empty corner and took a deep breath.

That casual head pat had thrown me off for a second. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, pulled myself together, and slowly walked back to the booth.

One of his friends asked, "Charles, be honest with us—are you still hung up on Daisy Quade?"

Another pressed. "Are you and Brenda actually dating?"

Charles said, "No way. She's just a replacement."

I never cared to pry into other people's private business. I pushed the door open, walked straight in, and sat down next to Charles. Everyone in the room looked tense, and Charles kept holding back whatever he wanted to say.

Before I left that night, Charles stepped out for a minute. One of his friends stopped me, his tone sharp and warning. "Listen, Brenda. Know your place. Don't embarrass yourself."

I let out a long, quiet sigh and said nothing at all, keeping my demeanor calm and docile—no fights, no tears, no complaints.