Chapter 6: The Mistress Contract

A week later, the company had a team-building event. The dread started as soon as the email landed in my inbox.

The email was cheerful, full of exclamation points. I knew what it really meant: forced fun, awkward small talk, too much alcohol. I braced myself for the worst.

As the newbie, I got pressured into drinking way too much. My stomach churned just thinking about it.

Every toast was for the new girl. I tried to pace myself, but the glasses kept coming, the laughter getting louder, sloppier.

“Hey Julia, if you don’t drink, we’ll dock your pay.” Someone grinned, raising their glass in challenge. The others whooped, egging me on.

“Don’t worry, if you get drunk, we’ll take you home. We’re all women—what’s there to be afraid of?” The manager winked, trying to sound reassuring. I forced a smile, but a prickle of unease crept up my spine.

The manager smiled, encouraging me. Egged on by everyone, I downed my last drink of the night and collapsed on the table, completely out.

The room spun, the noise fading into a distant buzz. My head hit the table, and everything went black.

The next morning, I woke up in a big bed. For a moment, I didn’t recognize anything around me.

The sheets were crisp, the mattress too soft to be my own. I blinked, disoriented, heart pounding.

Sunlight streamed in, so bright I couldn’t open my eyes. I groaned, wishing I could hide under the covers.

I squinted, shielding my face with my hand. The light was merciless, exposing everything.

I sat up, the blanket sliding off, revealing a soft hotel bathrobe wrapped around me. I froze, panic rising.

The fabric was plush, expensive. I glanced around, panic rising in my chest. My mind raced, trying to remember.

Stunned, I got up and walked out. My legs felt like jelly.

My legs felt shaky, my head pounding. I stumbled toward the door, desperate for answers.

In the bright living room, Adam sat reading the morning paper, legs crossed, also wearing a hotel bathrobe. My heart dropped into my stomach.

He looked up, calm and composed, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The sight of him there, so at ease, made my stomach twist.

When he saw me, he glanced up indifferently. “You’re awake. Breakfast is on the table. Eat, then go back to sleep if you want.”

His tone was casual, almost bored. He didn’t look at me as he spoke, just flipped another page of the newspaper.

A chill swept through me. My face went pale. “Did we…?” The question felt like glass in my throat.

I could barely get the words out, my voice shaking. My mind raced, trying to piece together the night before.

Adam tossed the newspaper on the coffee table, pulling his collar open to reveal faint marks. “Unfortunately, you were the one who made the first move last night.”

He leaned back, exposing a line of bruises along his collarbone. His eyes glittered with something I couldn’t name. My heart hammered in my chest.

It felt like a bolt of lightning. I had no memory of the night before. Panic set in.

Panic clawed at my throat. I tried to remember—anything, a flash, a feeling. Nothing.

“No way.” The words slipped out, desperate. I shook my head, refusing to believe it.

Adam placed a contract in front of me, signed by me. The general gist: I’d be his mistress, and he’d pay me ten grand a month.

The paper was heavy, the ink still fresh. My signature glared up at me, undeniable. My stomach dropped.

“There’s no way I signed this…” I reached for the contract, hands trembling. My voice was a whisper, disbelief thick in every syllable.

“Really?” Adam chuckled. “You sure?”

He leaned forward, his smile cold. I felt trapped, cornered.

Faced with his steady, direct gaze, I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word. Shame burned in my cheeks.

His eyes bore into mine, daring me to deny it. My throat closed up, the words dying on my tongue.

Ignoring my discomfort, he pulled out his phone. “I accidentally recorded your little monologue last night. Miss Tang, want to hear how dirty your thoughts were?”

He waved the recorder in front of me, his voice mocking. I flinched, the shame washing over me in waves.

I shuddered, feeling like I’d fallen into an ice-cold pit. My hands shook.

My skin prickled, a cold sweat breaking out along my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold it together.

A wave of shame crashed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could vanish.

I wanted to disappear, to crawl out of my own skin. The humiliation was suffocating.

Those thoughts were shameful enough when hidden—now, spoken aloud and used as evidence, it felt like a crime.

I remembered every secret wish, every lonely night, and hated myself for all of it. Now he held them in his hands, weapons to use against me.

Adam’s eyes were lowered, his expression unreadable. “Going after an engaged man… tsk. Julia, what if I let them hear this recording?”

His words were soft, almost gentle, but the threat was clear. I felt my hands clench, nails digging into my palms.

I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. “Is this your revenge?”

My voice was low, shaking with anger. I met his gaze, refusing to look away.

“Yes,” he replied lightly. “You didn’t want me to be happy back then—why should I let you be happy now?”

His smile was cruel, the words twisting the knife. I felt the old pain flare up, raw and fresh.

“Two choices.” He leaned back, folding his arms. The room felt smaller, the air heavier.

“Either you honor the contract, or I make the recording public.” His tone was final, no room for negotiation. My heart pounded, fear and rage warring inside me.

The clock in the corner ticked, matching my heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

Each second stretched into eternity, the sound deafening.

My lips were dry as I looked up numbly. “Then go ahead. Make it public.”

The words surprised even me. I stared at him, daring him to do it.

Under his cold stare, I felt emptied out, exhausted.

“Adam, I won’t be the other woman.” I forced the words out, my voice flat. I refused to let him see me break.

He stared at me, then smiled. “Julia, who do you think you are?”

His smile was cold, almost pitying. I felt my cheeks burn with shame.

“You think you still get to choose?” He leaned in, his voice a whisper. I held my ground, refusing to flinch.

I found my own disheveled clothes in the bathroom. Adam’s clothes were neatly hung on the rack outside the door, perfectly separated. The difference made my chest ache.

The contrast was stark—my dress wrinkled and stained, his suit immaculate. The sight made my chest ache.

The sight stung my eyes. I sighed, quietly changed, and left the hotel. My heart felt heavy in my chest.

I slipped out without a word, the hallway echoing with my footsteps. The city felt colder, emptier than ever.