Done Being the Billionaire's Caged Bird

I was the perfect billionaire's mistress.

A tiny waist, a sweet voice, a pretty face, and just enough brains to know when to keep my mouth shut.

For four years, I'd been living like a princess under the protection of Alexander Whitmore, one of the most powerful men in New York.

Until one afternoon, I overheard him talking to his friends.

"Alexander, Vivian's coming back to the States soon. What are you going to do about the little bird you've been keeping?"

Alexander's answer was casual, almost dismissive.

"She's just a pretty little thing I keep around for entertainment."

He took a sip of his drink before adding, "Now that Vivian's coming home, it's time to get rid of her."

That was when I finally understood.

I wasn't his girlfriend. I was just a replacement for the woman he'd never gotten over.

And his one true love was finally coming home.

My days as a kept woman were numbered.

But what Alexander and his friends didn't know was that I'd never been in this relationship for love.

I'd only ever wanted his money.

——

Their conversation kept replaying in my head.

My heart was still pounding, but not because I'd been heartbroken.

It was because I'd finally realized that all those years of affection from Alexander had been nothing but an elaborate performance.

In his eyes, I was nothing more than a possession. Something he could discard, replace, or even share with his friends whenever he pleased.

I slipped back into the walk-in closet.

A wall of Hermès handbags greeted me.

I stared at the collection and couldn't help grinning.

"Well, well. Four years of collecting Birkins, and now it's time to cash them in."

I immediately contacted a luxury resale dealer and arranged to have the entire collection appraised.

Those handbags were about to become cold, hard cash.

You see, I hadn't always been a pampered socialite.

I was an art student who had specialized in classical piano. I'd grown up poor, but I had a natural gift for music. Thanks to a special admissions program, I'd earned a place at a prestigious university.

Unfortunately, shortly after I started college, my grandmother—the woman who had raised me—became seriously ill.

I borrowed money from anyone willing to lend it, desperate to pay for her treatment.

But despite everything I did, she eventually passed away.

With the debts piling up, I nearly dropped out of school.

Then I met Alexander Whitmore.

I needed money. He wanted a beautiful woman who would flatter his ego and never ask too many questions.

It was a perfect arrangement.

I reinvented myself into exactly what he wanted: a gorgeous, shallow, materialistic girl who couldn't survive without his money or affection.

I learned how to pout, how to flirt, how to play helpless, and how to make a man like Alexander feel like the center of my universe.

And just like that, four years passed.

Now, I'd finally saved enough money for tuition and living expenses abroad.

My dream was within reach.

All I had to do was keep playing my part for three more months.

That evening, Alexander came home smelling strongly of whiskey.

Out of habit, I immediately went to greet him, letting my body soften as I slipped into the sweet, affectionate persona I'd perfected over the years.

"You're home, darling. Did you have a long day?"

For four years, I'd been his little sanctuary, the pretty woman waiting to soothe his frustrations whenever he returned from the outside world.

Alexander's eyes were slightly unfocused from drinking. He reached out, pulled me into his arms, and mumbled an order.

"Kiss me."

I obediently tilted my face toward his.

But just as his lips brushed mine, he murmured another woman's name.

"Vivian..."

My body stiffened for half a second.

I quickly lowered my lashes, hiding the disgust that flashed through my eyes.

For four years, Alexander had always called me Vivian.

I'd once corrected him, telling him my name was Claire Bennett. If he wanted a pet name, he should at least call me Claire.

He'd merely stroked my hair and smiled.

"Everyone else calls you Claire. Vivian is what I'll call you. It's something special between us."

Back then, I'd actually believed him.

I'd thought it was his way of making our relationship unique.

Now, looking back, it was almost laughable.

The realization made my stomach turn, but I still wrapped my arms around his neck and played along.

Until I was safely on that plane to Vienna, I couldn't afford to upset my most generous benefactor.

The night passed in a haze of passion and exhaustion.

The next morning, I woke up with an aching waist.

Alexander was already standing beside the bed, adjusting his cufflinks.

Something about him seemed different.

His expression was cold and distant. There was even a trace of disgust in his eyes.

I nearly rolled my eyes.

As if I were the one who should be feeling disgusted.

His tie was crooked, so I got out of bed and reached up to straighten it.

He recoiled as if I'd touched a hot stove.

"Don't touch me."

My hand froze in midair.

I immediately let my expression fall, putting on the wounded look of a spoiled girlfriend.

"Alexander, why are you being so mean to me?"

He seemed to realize he'd been unnecessarily harsh.

Without another word, he pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it onto the floor.

"Last night's payment."

It had been a long time since he'd been so blunt about the financial nature of our arrangement.

For a brief moment, something unpleasant stirred in my chest.

But I quickly swallowed it and put on my best greedy smile.

"Thank you, sweetheart!"

Alexander let out a mocking laugh before turning toward the door.

"Come with me somewhere this afternoon. My driver will pick you up."

I stared at the black card lying on the floor.

How stingy.

He could've just written me a check. Now I'd have to figure out how to turn this card into actual money.

The moment he left, I contacted the professor in Vienna who had been encouraging me to apply to his music program for months.

I told him I wanted to enroll in the fall semester.

His reply arrived almost immediately, and he sounded delighted.

Three months.

I repeated the words silently to myself.

Just three more months, Claire.

Then you're free.