I Paid For His Body, He Stole My Heart

Victoria's POV

I fired three lovers before midnight—by morning, I was stalking number four.

I'm standing at the floor-to-ceiling window of my penthouse, champagne in hand, staring out at the San Francisco Bay. Behind me, a gathering is happening. Though calling it a "gathering" feels ridiculous when there are only four people here.

Three young men and me.

Jake is rummaging through the kitchen, probably trying to show off how thoughtful he is. He's my personal trainer, twenty-five, perfect abs, empty head.

Damien leans against the piano pretending to be casual. He calls himself an artist. I've been funding his gallery show for two months now. He hasn't finished a single piece.

Marco sits on the couch, the youngest at twenty-three, always looking at me like I'm some kind of life guru. Law school student. Still has that puppy dog worship in his eyes.

"Victoria, I got you sparkling water. You said you don't drink much alcohol at night." Jake walks over with a glass, flashing his bright smile.

"Thanks." I take it, rolling my eyes internally. He remembers my preferences the same way he remembers every move in a workout routine. Mechanical. Precise. Soulless.

Damien speaks up. "Vic, I'm thinking we should go to Napa this weekend. You mentioned wanting to see the vineyards."

"Did I?" I turn to look at him.

He freezes, clearly realizing he's mixed me up with someone else's sponsor.

"Or... somewhere else?" He tries to recover.

Marco cuts in. "I have a big exam next week, so I probably can't—"

"Nobody asked you." Damien's voice goes cold.

And there it is. The problem. Three people, three different needs, three separate contracts, but the tension between them keeps building. Like an over-diversified investment portfolio that needs rebalancing.

I set my champagne glass down on the marble counter. The sound rings out sharp. All three conversations stop. They're all looking at me now.

"I think we need to talk." Direct. No padding. First lesson I learned in business is don't waste time with preambles.

Jake's smile freezes. Damien raises an eyebrow. Marco nervously rubs his knee.

"I'm considering streamlining my personal investments." I use business terminology deliberately. Makes this conversation sound less like a breakup, more like portfolio adjustment. "The current arrangement clearly isn't efficient."

"You mean..." Marco asks carefully.

"I mean three people is too many. I want to focus on one person." I look at each of them. "Or maybe none at all."

Jake jumps up. "Vic, I can do better, I swear. You said I was—"

"I said you were dedicated." I cut him off. "But dedicated doesn't mean irreplaceable."

Damien tries to stay calm, but I see his grip tighten on his glass. "So this is an audition? We're supposed to compete?"

"No. This isn't a competition." I walk to the couch, looking down at them. "This is my decision. And I've already made it."

Marco's voice comes out almost pleading. "Vic, please, I really need—I mean, we get along well, don't we?"

Need. That word stings. He needs my checks, not me. They all do.

"You'll all receive generous termination packages." My voice stays level. "My assistant will handle the details. Now, I think you should leave."

Jake moves first. He stands up, face flushing red. "Fine. I'm sick of this arrangement anyway. You know how many people out there want to—"

"Want to be kept by a female CEO under forty?" I laugh coldly. "Plenty, I know. Door's that way."

He storms out, doesn't even grab his coat.

Damien is calmer. He rises slowly, adjusting his cuffs. "You know, Vic, you're going to end up alone. You push everyone away."

"Maybe." I shrug. "But I'll be alone on my own terms."

He shakes his head and leaves too.

Just Marco left. He looks like he's about to cry. Makes me soften slightly. Just slightly.

"Vic..."

"Marco, you're sweet, but you need a mentor, not a sponsor. Go ace your exam. Find someone who actually likes you."

He finally nods and stands. At the door, he turns back. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

The door closes. The penthouse falls silent.

I pour myself another drink, raising it to the empty room. "You all bore me now."

Next morning at Sterling Tech headquarters, my office.

Sophie knocks and enters. "Morning, Ms. Sterling. Your coffee and today's briefing. Also—" she pauses, "there's an email you might want to see."

"What email?"

"From someone named Ethan Cole. A technical proposal about our cloud security vulnerabilities."

I take the iPad, scanning the sender's name. Ethan Cole. Don't know him.

But when I open the attachment, I sit up straight.

This isn't some generic cold email. This is a detailed security audit report, pointing out three vulnerabilities in our system that we haven't even discovered yet. Complete with technical specifications for solutions.

"Run a background check on this person." I tell Sophie. "I want everything."

"Already did." Sophie places a printed file on my desk. "Ethan Cole, twenty-nine, Stanford computer science PhD dropout. Founded an AI startup called Nexus Labs, went under last year. Currently... appears to be job hunting."

I look at the resume. Stanford, MIT undergrad, three published papers in top journals, once made Forbes thirty under thirty.

Then everything vanished.

"Why did it fail?"

Sophie hesitates. "Reportedly his co-founder embezzled funds. Cole took on all the debt."

I stare at that name, my instinct telling me something.

This one is different.