Chapter 6
My phone rang while I was driving. I glanced at the screen. Rachel.
I pulled over and smirked to myself. Of all the women I kept around for passing nights, Rachel was the one who lasted the longest. She was not special, not by any definition. But she had a way of making herself useful—listening when I felt like talking, silent when I didn't. She knew how to play my favorite games in bed. If women were toys, she was my favorite toy. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Hello, Rachel. Do you miss me already?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm.
"I want us to see," she said softly, almost pleading.
I thought about brushing her off. But then again, I had nothing better waiting at home. "Fine. I'm heading back. Come over."
I drove through the tall gates of my mansion and informed the gateman that Rachel would arrive shortly. Not that he needed the reminder—she'd been here often enough to recognize the patterns of her visits.
Minutes later, she walked in, dressed to entice. "Hello, Mich," she said, her tone laced with familiarity.
"Hello." I didn't bother with smiles.
She sat across from me, her face unusually tense. "I urgently need five hundred dollars. There are things I need to settle."
I didn't even ask what for. Her problems were irrelevant. I grabbed my checkbook, scribbled the amount, and slid it across the table. She took it quickly, her eyes flickering with relief.
"Now," I leaned back, my gaze sharp, "show me something I haven't seen before."
She smirked, and we moved to the bedroom. That night, she gave me a version of herself she had never shown me before. Her movements were desperate, almost frantic, as though she knew it would be her last time with me. I didn't question it. I took what she gave, used her the way I always did, and closed my eyes without guilt.
Afterwards, she lay beside me, breathless. "I'll be traveling to my mother's side," she murmured.
The words hit me harder than I expected. Traveling. Everyone who ever "traveled" in my life never returned. My mother. My nanny. Even Tessa, my childhood friend. Traveling was just another word for leaving.
I forced myself to laugh. "Travel, then. Do whatever you want. Just don't bother me with your drama."
But deep inside, a sharp unease gnawed at me.
"I'll call you tomorrow," I muttered, turning away from her.
"Okay," she whispered.
The next morning, I reached for my phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Still off. Rachel never turned off her phone. Not once, not since I'd known her.
A weight settled in my chest. I dressed quickly, intending to bury myself in work, but something on the dresser caught my attention. My customized necklace—untouched where I had left it. And just beneath it, folded neatly, a letter.
My pulse quickened as I unfolded the paper.
Dear Michael,
I'm sorry for not telling you in time, but I'm not coming back. Since there are no real feelings between us, it's best I go with someone who will love me. Take care of yourself,and pls try to treat women right,they deserve better, bitterness won't let you heal…..I am your childhood friend Tessa,but I noticed all these time —you didn't recognize me,take care and change.
—Rachel
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The words blurred before my eyes. My chest tightened, and the walls of my room seemed to close in.
Rachel had left.
She wasn't supposed to matter, not to me. She was a toy, a distraction, nothing more. Yet as I held the letter in my hand, the same old wound tore open inside me. The same wound that bled when my nanny Chloe packed her bags. When Tessa disappeared without a goodbye. When my mother walked out with her suitcase, leaving me begging at the door.
It was happening all over again.
The cruel cycle of women leaving me, proving me right every time I told myself not to trust them.
I sank into a chair, the paper crumpling in my fist. Weak. That's what I felt. Weak in a way I hated, in a way I could never show the world. I swallowed the ache, forcing it back down, but it lingered like poison in my veins.
By the time I left for the office, my body moved like a ghost. I greeted no one, answered no one. My workers bowed, offered smiles, but I passed them like shadows, my face an unreadable mask.
Inside, I was crumbling.
Rachel had joined the long list of women who abandoned me.
And I knew one thing for certain.
It would be the last time I let myself feel this kind of pain.