Chapter 3

I flinched. “I'm not pregnant! I got carsick.”

His stare grew colder. “You don't get carsick.”

Hayley didn't. Claire Bennett certainly did.

SUVs weren't so bad, but sedans almost always made me sick.

“Well, I did today. I don't know why.”

Afraid he wouldn't believe me, I offered to go buy a pregnancy test.

“No need. There's one here.”

Seriously?

He actually kept pregnancy tests on hand?

Was he waiting to catch “me” cheating?

This man terrified me. If this body really was pregnant, would he kill me and dump me somewhere?

He put the test into my hand.

“Take it. Now.”

Faced with that unyielding look, I awkwardly gathered up my skirt to use the test.

If it came back positive, I'd tell him everything about the body swap.

Going back to Logan would be awful. Being murdered would be worse.

Thankfully, it was negative.

Adrian's face relaxed. The menace went out of his eyes.

“If you don't feel well, don't cook. Order something.”

Not so much as an apology for accusing me.

Was being excused from cooking supposed to count as a favor?

Fine.

He drove a car worth six figures, lived in a multimillion-dollar house, and negotiated deals worth tens of millions.

I was an office worker at a public utility, working myself to exhaustion for barely $3,200 a month.

My parents lived in a rural town. They couldn't help me financially, but they still demanded $150 every month, plus extra for birthdays and holidays.

Sometimes they even pretended to be sick to get more money.

In the five years since college, I'd sent them well over $20,000 and saved nothing for myself.

Logan and I had gone to college together. His family wasn't any better off than mine, but he was their son. They did everything they could to support him.

He never had to send money home. His mother still gave him $450 a month.

Our coworkers thought he was wonderfully loyal for staying with me now that he was famous online.

Please.

Without me, who would write his scripts and edit his videos?

Who would take him to his appointments for cosmetic work, body sculpting, injections, and liposuction?

He earned plenty, but his clinic bills alone ran over $4,500 a month.

Then there were the trendy restaurants, luxury goods, and motorcycle gear.

Some months he spent more than $45,000.

Whenever he ran short, he messaged his biggest donors, men and women alike.

He flirted with them and went on trips with them.

He thought he'd hidden it well. I knew all of it.

Maybe swapping bodies with Hayley was a good thing.

Being spoiled by a tyrant sounded easier than being married to a parasite.

I'd had enough of being an unpaid maid.