My Sugar Daddy Has No Idea I Rule the Markets

Evelyn’s POV

For three years, I was Adrian Vale's kept woman.

Pretty, useless, and so thoroughly spoiled that even his sister said I wouldn't survive three days without the Vales. I didn't bother arguing. Before I met Adrian, I'd been chair of the Global Financial Order Council. That job had nearly worked me to death. Now I didn't have to set an alarm or use my brain, and my monthly allowance ran to eight figures. Who in her right mind would give that up?

Then twelve overseas funds joined forces to short Vale Group. Adrian's father was forced out. His two older brothers were taken into custody. And Adrian, who had always been able to fix anything, found himself at a negotiating table with a pen pressed into his hand and a demand to surrender every share he owned.

One of the fund managers across the table looked me over and smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Vale. Once your family’s bankrupt, we’ll take good care of your little songbird."

I was quiet for a long moment. If the Vales went under, where was I supposed to find another man this generous?

So just as Adrian was about to sign, I took the seat at the head of the table and called a number I hadn't used in ten years.

"Halt trading across the European markets. And tell the heads of these twelve funds to get here within thirty minutes and explain themselves—on their knees."

——

The day Vale Group fell apart, I was in a mall, where a sales associate in white gloves was presenting a crocodile-leather bag—the only one released worldwide that quarter. I didn't ask the price. I handed her the black card Adrian had given me.

The terminal let out a harsh beep. Payment declined. Account frozen.

"Ms. Hart, it might be an issue on the bank’s end," the associate said, her smile flickering before she put it back in place.

I stared at the screen. In three years, that card had paid for yachts, jewelry, and a seaside villa whose address I'd promptly forgotten. It had never failed me once.

I called Adrian. No answer. Normally, whether he was in a board meeting or on a plane, he picked up before the third ring. I was about to try again when a commotion broke out in the concourse—running footsteps, shouting.

Reporters crowded around the Vale-owned jewelry store, photographing its sign as workers took it down. On a giant screen, Vale Group stock plunged. Nearly 100 billion dollars in market value vanished in half an hour. The headlines came faster than I could read them: Adrian’s father Rohan Vale, Vale Group’s chairman, had resigned amid allegations of falsified financial statements; Adrian's two older brothers, Kael Vale and Joren Vale, had been detained in a cross-border financial investigation; twelve overseas funds had announced a coordinated campaign to short Vale Group shares.

The associate quietly slid the bag out of my reach. When I looked up, she lowered her eyes. Minutes earlier, she'd been offering to show me the new high-jewelry collection. Now she'd decided I couldn't afford a handbag.

Fair enough. I went home empty-handed.

The Vale house was bedlam. Lawyers, accountants, and executives filled the living room, each speaking urgently into a phone. Adrian's father Rohan sat in the middle of it all, looking ten years older. His mother, Sorrel Vale, eyes raw from crying, kept asking for news of her sons.

Clara, Adrian's sister, spotted me. "The Vales are about to go bankrupt, and you went shopping?" Her eyes dropped to my empty hands. "Evelyn Hart, do you even have a heart?"

I sighed. "There was a bag I really liked, but the card wouldn't go through."

She looked ready to cry from sheer fury. "How could my brother spend three years keeping someone this selfish?"

"Clara."

Adrian stood in the doorway. His jacket hung over one arm, his white shirt was badly creased, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. But the moment he saw me, he stopped and looked me over from head to toe.

"Don't listen to them," he said.

I smiled up at him. "See? You're always good to me, darling."

Clara turned and marched out. Adrian didn't scold me. Instead, he took a fresh bank card from his wallet and pressed it into my palm.

"This one still works."

"How much is on it?"

"Fifty million dollars."

I frowned. The cards he usually handed me held at least nine figures. Adrian saw my face. After a moment, he stroked my hair.

"Make do for now."

No one else in the house ate dinner. I sat alone in the dining room and finished all six dishes the chef had prepared. By six that evening, Adrian still hadn’t come out of his study. I went upstairs to ask when the black card might start working again.

Before I reached the door, I heard a lawyer speaking in a low voice. "Mr. Vale, the twelve funds have gotten every one of our overseas accounts frozen. If we can't raise the money before the market opens tomorrow, Vale Group is finished."

For a long time, Adrian said nothing. Then: "Liquidate all my personal assets. And get a plane ready."

"You're leaving?" the lawyer asked.

"Not me."

The study door opened. Adrian paused when he saw me, then handed me a passport and a plane ticket.

"Pack your things. I’m sending you abroad first thing tomorrow."