Addicted To His Fake Sugar Baby

The apartment smelled like lemon cleaner and fresh air. Giselle stood in the middle of the living room, a rag in one hand and a bottle of Windex in the other. She was wearing a pair of old jeans and a faded Columbia t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

She had spent the last four hours scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom. It wasn't just about cleanliness. It was about control. Her life was a chaotic mess of lies and debt, but this small square footage was hers. She could make it safe.

She sank into the armchair, her muscles aching but her mind at ease. She had meant to hide the encrypted phone inside a hollowed-out fluid dynamics textbook, but its battery had dipped to the red zone. It was currently plugged into the wall charger on her nightstand. Despite the risk, she felt a fleeting sense of peace.

A sudden noise made her jump. The sound of a key turning in the lock.

Her heart rate spiked, but she forced herself to relax. Her roommates were back from the Hamptons.

The door swung open, and Carleigh Ramsey and Megan Cooper stumbled in. Carleigh was wearing a silk slip dress that probably cost more than Giselle's tuition. Megan was in a designer tracksuit, carrying three shopping bags.

"Oh my God, I need a bed," Carleigh groaned, dropping her bags on the floor.

She reached back to toss her Hermès Birkin bag onto the couch, but her hand stopped mid-air. She stared at the living room, her eyes wide.

Megan bumped into her from behind. "Why are you standing there? Move-" She stopped too.

The living room was spotless. The coffee table was clear. The rug was vacuumed. It looked like a showroom.

Carleigh's gaze swept the room, finally landing on Giselle in the armchair. "Giselle? Did you do this?"

Giselle nodded, keeping her face neutral. "Welcome back. I thought the place could use a clean."

Carleigh walked further into the room, her heels clicking on the freshly mopped floor. "Well, look at you, playing Cinderella," Carleigh said, a hint of mockery in her voice. "What's the occasion?"

Before Giselle could answer, Carleigh's own phone buzzed and she glanced at it. "Ugh, battery died. Hey, can I borrow your charger? Mine's buried at the bottom of my bag."

Giselle's stomach tightened into a painful knot. The encrypted phone was plugged in right there on her nightstand. "Yeah, just give me a second, I'll go grab it for you-"

But Carleigh was already moving, too exhausted and impatient to wait. She breezed past Giselle, heading straight for the open door of the small bedroom. "Don't worry about it, I'll just plug it in myself. I'm too tired to stand."

"Wait, Carleigh-" Giselle started, stepping forward, her heart hammering against her ribs.

It was too late. A moment later, Carleigh's voice called out from the bedroom, laced with a strange curiosity. "Hey, G? Since when do you have two phones?"

Giselle's blood ran cold. She walked to the doorway. Carleigh was standing by the bed, her own dead phone in one hand. With the other, she was pointing at the sleek, black smartphone plugged into the wall charger.

"That's just a loaner," Giselle said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Mine cracked, and I needed something with better processing power for a simulation project."

Carleigh picked it up, feeling its weight. "A loaner? From who? The engineering department's secret agent division?" She laughed, but her eyes were sharp. "This thing looks like it could survive a bomb blast. Seriously, what kind of project is this?"

Giselle met her gaze, her smile never wavering, even as her pulse throbbed in her throat. "Something like that," she said softly.

The phone sat in Carleigh's manicured hand, a silent, ticking bomb. One wrong move, one notification from "Daddy," and Giselle's entire world would detonate.