The Prince Pretends to Be Poor for Love1
My boyfriend, Jonathan Davis, who I had been in love with for five years, had stomach cancer.
In order to pay for Jonathan's treatment, I sold the house my mother left me and worked three jobs on my own.
I heard Jonathan talking to someone about me while I was working part-time job at the bar. “Vivian is just a toy for me when I'm bored, and I give her hope and push her into the abyss. Isn't that fun?”
I didn't cry, complain, or rush in to ask him, and I packed my things and took a plane back to my hometown.
I was told that Jonathan, the young master in Hampton, who cried and searched the whole of Hampton afterwards, could not find me.
The second before I pushed open the door to the private room, I was still secretly delighted that I would get a tip of several hundred dollars for this order.
As a result, I was suddenly stunned when I saw Jonathan surrounded by several rich men in the center of the booth.
At that moment, Jonathan was dressed in a suit and exuded an innate nobility.
He was nothing like the poor boyfriend who was pestering me to sleep with me before.
I looked over uncertainly several times as I heard the coquettish giggle of the flirtatious woman lying in his arms.
“Mr. Davis, haven't you had enough of Cinderella falling in love with Prince Charming?”
“What is so special about Vivian that is worth all the years you've spent playing such a boring game?” The woman's tone sounded flirty and filled with disdain.
Jonathan didn't answer, his eyes hiding a faint smile. He lifted the woman's chin with his hand and lowered his head for a kiss.
It was unexpectedly quiet in the private room, making the kiss seem extra charming, gentle and ambiguous.
The woman's panting was even more like a tidal wave into my ears, and a tingling sensation like a dense pinprick of needles surged through my heart.
“Mr. Davis, someone's watching us. Why don't you come over to my place tonight? Play however you want.”
The desire in Jonathan's eyes disappeared. He cupped the woman's face and teased, “That's the biggest difference between you and her. She's well-behaved, unlike a woman as flirtatious as you, who can't survive without a man.”
Instead of feeling offended, the woman laughed with joy.
“Hey, you can't talk about me like that.”
I felt upset and hurriedly looked down, swallowing the loss that surged up.