Seven-Year Betrayal: I'm the Sugar Mama

There's an unspoken rule among the elite.

A kept lover must turn a blind eye when their patron takes other lovers.

I used to think that was simply a matter of conscience.

Until Lucas's side piece showed up at my door.

She stood before me with a doe-eyed look, as if she'd summoned every ounce of courage just to speak.

"I know what we're doing is wrong, but Lucas says he loves me, and I love him too."

"I know this sounds like a lot to ask, but it's for your dignity too. Please divorce him, and Lucas will give you a generous settlement."

She dipped her head with what looked like genuine remorse, bowing slightly.

I almost laughed. "Do you even know how things work between Lucas and me? I'm his patron."

"Did Lucas ever mention that the villa you're living in, the car you're driving—they all belong to me?"

Ella's lips parted, but nothing came out. That brave-girl-in-love act she'd been putting on crumbled in an instant,

leaving nothing but panic and disbelief.

"Clearly not." I stirred my coffee lazily. "If Lucas and I divorce, everything he owns—and everything he's given you—gets clawed back. Still think your love conquers all?"

By the time Lucas came back, the girl's face was flushed red from my words.

He immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her behind him, his eyes sharp with a wariness I'd never seen before.

I asked him what this was about.

He just took Ella's hand and said, "She's not like the people in your world. Don't give her a hard time."

My hand trembled around the coffee cup. I swallowed the sting rising in my chest and looked up at him. "And what if I do?"

His gaze drifted to the table behind me.

I followed his eyes and saw it—a box of pearls, sitting right there.

Groomed from birth as the heir to an elite family, I've never been short of quality men.

And my own abilities let me steady a massive business empire without needing a strategic marriage.

Back then, I was carefree—always keeping a flock of pretty boys around me.

Lucas was just one of them.

When I first met him, he was still in college—different from the others who only ever talked money with me.

He was always asking, again and again, whether I truly loved him.

After my late-night events, he'd make me a warm bowl of congee to settle my stomach.

I'm prone to low blood sugar, and he always kept a piece of chocolate on him—just for me.

The year I had a car accident, he went to church every single day to pray for me. He even managed to get a small bottle of holy water, insisting that sprinkling it on me would speed up my recovery.

Looking at his bruised forehead and knees rubbed raw, I asked him, "Why are you so good to me?"

It wasn't like I was giving him much money back then.

He said, "I love you. I just want you to be okay."

"And if you could love me just a little more... that'd be even better."

Maybe it was his sincerity that got to me. I sent all the other men away and gave him an official title.

On our wedding day, he gave me a box of pearls—nothing exquisite, really.

He said, "I don't have much. I dove for these pearls myself in Hallstätter See. Each one represents a piece of my heart."

"Now that you've chosen me, you can't let me down. Every time you make me sad, I'll take one pearl away. And when they're all gone—I'll leave, and I won't come back."

Back then, I just found his earnest innocence endearing. And to honor his feelings—

I promised I would never make him sad.

So after all these years, that box of pearls stayed full.

Not a single one missing.

Lucas walked over and scooped a handful of pearls from the box.

Just like that, a third of them—gone.

The shock on my face must have been obvious, because he seemed to think his little power play had worked.

"You hurt me today. Think about that."

After they left,

I sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the box of pearls.

The cheap pearls had long lost their luster, faded to a dull, sickly yellow after years of neglect.

Just like Lucas's tarnished devotion.

Before he walked out, Lucas said, "Don't take it out on younger, prettier girls just because you've gotten old."