Big Win, Bitter Truth: I Was Her Practice Partner

I have just secured a massive ten-million-dollar deal during the Black Friday Sales. I have endured several days of hectic work, yet I still find myself unable to turn down my girlfriend, Charlotte Ward.

We spend the night in passionate abandon and finally fall into a heavy, restful sleep.

The next morning, a loud thud jolts me awake. When I open my eyes, I realize that it's my luggage.

Charlotte suddenly says, "This is the end for us, Robert. It's time for you to move out. I've already wired the money for your past services, along with your salary. So get going."

I find myself caught in a daze and about to move to question her, but she stops me dead, jabbing her fingers into my chest.

"Know your place, Robert. You're nothing but a gigolo to me. I might, maybe, let you keep your job in Ward Group if you beg."

I almost reach out to grab her wrist but stop myself. Instead, I smile broadly and say, "You've got it all wrong. Your company wouldn't survive without me, Charlotte."

I had drunk way too much with Charlotte Ward, CEO of Ward Group, during our company's retreat last month.

The next morning, I woke up to find us both naked in the same bed. I was about to address the catastrophe when Charlotte—before I could say a single word—silenced me with a kiss and dragged me into round two.

For the past month, Charlotte had been glued to my side. Whenever she had a moment to spare, she would drag me to the bedroom.

I hadn't slept properly for days because I was working hard preparing my team for the Black Friday Sales, but the moment I walked through the door last night, I still needed to meet her needs.

I had believed that physical attraction was more reliable than emotional attachment, and I had assumed that we were already in a relationship without needing to say it aloud.

But when I woke up, I learned that I was nothing more than a warm body to her.

Charlotte was getting dressed while stating coldly, "Never contact me again, Robert. You and I live in different worlds—we should never have been involved."

I stared at her, forcing myself to stay calm. "Is that your way of telling me I am beneath you?"

Charlotte turned sharply, her gaze dripping with pure disdain. "Exactly! You were just someone I used to take care of my physical needs. I'm through with you now, and frankly, I've grown tired of this arrangement, Robert."

I froze for a moment, still unwilling to discard the tenderness of the past month. "Can you at least tell me why?"

Charlotte let out a cold, dismissive chuckle. "Why should I waste my breath explaining anything to you, a kept man who depends on women for your living?"

I scowled as I clamped my hand tightly around her wrist. "You're not going anywhere until you explain everything."

Charlotte yanked her arm away, unlocked her phone, and shoved the screen inches from my face. "Take a good look. Only an elite man like him deserves to be my husband. You don't even come close."

I looked at the screen and noticed that it was Steven Zimmerman, Charlotte's assistant, dressed immaculately in a suit. He had been dispatched to Barovia a month prior for crucial business negotiations. He was slated to return this very day.

Charlotte mistook my silence as a sign of weakness and pressed her advantage, her tone turning utterly ruthless. "I had made an agreement with Mr. Zimmerman. I told him that I would give myself to him the moment he finalized the Barovia deal."

So that was what this was about—the ten-million-dollar deal.

I slowly lifted my head, giving her a long, steady look. "Do you honestly believe that your assistant was the one who closed that deal, Charlotte?"

Her expression shifted drastically, a look of outrage spreading across her features. "Of course he did! Steven had worked tirelessly for the company, returning only now after being away for so long. Who else but him could have done it? Certainly not a useless kept man like you!"

I nearly burst into laughter. Charlotte was right about Steven spending a long time in Barovia. He had wasted the company's money, partied every night without ever meeting the client, and even bragged about it on social media the whole time.

I couldn't stand it, especially since my "girlfriend" worried so much about the deal. I made one phone call, and the client accepted the cooperation with Ward Group out of respect for me.

But in the end, in Charlotte's self-serving narrative, Steven received all the credit, while I—the person who actually secured the contract—was cast aside, entirely useless.