Tamed by Money

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After I went broke, a possessive, dark-haired guy started harassing me.

Sweetheart, I found the boba tea you threw away. There's still lipstick on the straw. I really want to kiss it

Me: Spot me for the tea, it was 0-02.

Sweetheart, I stole your jacket. It smells like you. I love it so much

Me: That one was $300. I can sell you my perfume secondhand.

The dark-haired guy was bewildered:

Sweetheart, aren't you scared of me? Does it mean anyone with money can pursue you?

I received a transfer of $52,000 from him.

I replied without hesitation:

Husband.

Dark-haired guy: ?

Messages from the dark-haired guy kept popping up.

Sweetheart, wrong person?

Are you dating? Was it that guy who chatted you up at the convenience store yesterday?

Why does he get to be your husband^^, I'm going to beat him black and blue

I typed a confused question mark.

And replied, all business:

Spend enough and you get a bonus. That husband is on the house.

You transferred me so much money, you earned it.

My family went bankrupt. I'd gone from a rich socialite to a broke socialite. Old business rivals were targeting me, and I couldn't find any decent jobs. To pay off debts, I was working three shady jobs a day.

Sure, this guy's messages were a little... clingy. And a tiny bit creepy. But for money, what was a little dignity?

The dark-haired guy didn't seem pleased:

If I find out you call anyone else husband for money, I'll kiss you till your lips are numb.

I thought for a moment, then replied:

Kissing comes with a separate price.

He sent a string of ellipses.

You'd be scared if you saw me. I'm ugly, not good enough for you. So, don't say things like that to tempt me, sweetheart.

Just then, the door opened.

A man in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit walked in. His sophisticated aura felt completely out of place in the dingy convenience store. He asked for a pack of cigarettes. I scanned the barcode, my voice flat.

Thatll be a hundred bucks.

He pulled a bill from his wallet. As I reached for it, he caught my hand in mid-air. Liam traced the palm of my hand with an almost desperate tenderness. He chuckled softly, his voice thick with a possessive obsession.

Finally, I have you.

A wave of disgust washed over me. I yanked my hand back. Liam didn't seem bothered. He glanced around the messy store, as if amused.

Halley, you've been avoiding me, and this is where you end up working?

He then added with a decisive tone.

Come back with me. You can still have your old life. Ill give you money, Ill give you love. Isnt that better?

I felt sick to my stomach. It reminded me of that saying in our circles: you don't call them girlfriends, you "keep" them. What was this? Become my ex-fianc's trophy?

I spoke coldly.

My family may be broke, but I haven't fallen so far that you can just insult me. The item's purchased, can you leave now?

Liam opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say more. But someone tapped his shoulder from behind. A guy wearing a mask, his bangs falling over his forehead, couldn't quite hide his beautiful brown eyes. Despite his clean, crisp white shirt, there was an indescribable gloom about him. He spoke softly.

Excuse me, I need to check out.

I'd been working at the convenience store for half a month and had seen him many times. He always bought the same thing: a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his intervention, and gave him a smile.

All set. See you next time.

When I turned back, Liam was gone. He'd left a note under a condom.

Think it over, then come find me.

After work, I couldn't hold back my anger. I angrily kicked a soda can down the street. Was Liam crazy? Think it over my ass! It truly felt like a tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by dogs. Not only did I have to endure the mockery of my old rivals, but now this humiliation from my ex-fianc. I would rather die broke than be his trophy!

My phone screen flashed. The dark-haired guy had sent me another message. It was a candid photo, taken from a hidden angle, of Liam buying cigarettes at the convenience store.

Sweetheart, who is he? He dared to touch you, should I break his hand?

Ill make all the bad men around you disappear. You belong only to me.

Oh, so he wasn't just sending me creepy messages. He was also stalking me in real life. Well, that was

Fantastic!

I promptly sent him all of Liam's social media accounts, personal information, and phone numbers. I even added, thoughtfully:

Honey, if you want more info on him, you can dig up his whole file. Oh, and one broken hand isnt enough, you absolutely have to break both!

The dark-haired guy was silent for a moment. Then he replied:

...Okay, I understand.

Why didnt you listen to me and called me husband again?

I replied with starry eyes:

Because you protect me. It feels so safe.

He sent a helpless emoji.

I told you, you'd be scared if you met me in person.

I blinked, casually saying:

Then let's meet.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang sharply. My heart leaped. The dark-haired guy sent two short words:

Open up.

I wrestled with myself internally. Of course, I was scared. But curiosity won out over fear. I had to see who this dark-haired guy really was. The moment I cracked the door open, a hand with distinct knuckles pressed against the frame. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me forcefully into his embrace.

My rundown apartment. The hallway lights were out. And being trapped in his arms plunged my vision into complete darkness. Even with a voice changer, his tone was chilling and somber.

Sweetheart Even after I do this to you, do you still feel safe? Why dont you ever listen to me, why are you always so careless?

My mind was blank. My face was buried in the space between his pectoral muscles. The fresh scent of lemon fabric softener clung to him, and it felt strangely familiar. I instinctively blurted out.

I actually feel pretty safe. Youve got big pecs.

Dark-haired guy: ?

He whispered in my ear, a hint of gritted teeth in his voice.

Sweetheart, do you even realize how much I want to kiss your lips swollen right now?

The dark-haired guy chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. His voice then took on a profound sadness, laced with self-consciousness.

Why are you so unguarded? Why do you keep making me fall for you again and again? I knew we werent a good match, but I still gravitated towards you like a moth to a flame. Dont you arent you scared of me at all?

But he hadnt actually done anything to hurt me, had he? Just some verbal harassment. And he constantly "dropped coins." He even offered to beat up Liam for me. What wasnt to like? I replied candidly.

Not really scared. I think you're actually a pretty good person.

He paused. Then he took my hand and guided it to his face. My breath caughta raised, uneven scar. Even without seeing it, I could tell it was quite disfiguring, marring his otherwise smooth skin. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse.

And now?

Before I could answer, he suddenly pushed me away. He thrust several shopping bags into my hands. His voice trembled.

See, I knew this would happen. You can use the things I bought for you. Im leaving now.

His footsteps were unusually hurried as he left. I stood there for a long time. When I returned to my room and turned on the light, I saw it was a boba tea and a pile of new clothes. Jasmine milk tea, three-quarters sweet, light ice. Just like the one hed picked up that day. The jacket he'd stolen, he'd bought a new one to replace it.

Why hadn't he let me finish speaking? I flexed my fingers, remembering the touch. What I really wanted to ask was:

It must have hurt a lot when you got that injury, didnt it?

I changed jobs. I started working at a bar. The environment was a bit noisy, but the pay was excellent. Someone sat down at the bar. I asked professionally.

What can I get for you?

Whiskey Sour.

Hearing that familiar, cool voice, I instantly looked up. It was the customer who often bought gummy bears at the convenience store. Still dressed the same: long bangs, a mask, a white shirt. But he seemed even more melancholic. I smiled at him.

What a coincidence.

He lowered his gaze, giving a soft Mmm. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke.

Why arent you at the convenience store anymore?

I sighed.

Because I didnt want to be found so I changed jobs.

His eyelashes fluttered, and a flicker of hurt and disappointment, almost imperceptible, crossed his face. I handed him the Whiskey Sour and a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears.

The gummies are on me. I saw you always bought them, so I tried them myself and they're pretty good.

He stared absently at the glass. I was a little curious.

Are you very introverted? You're at a bar but still wearing a mask, how do you drink like that?

He remained silent for a long time. Just when I thought he wouldn't answer, he suddenly looked up at me, his eyes swirling with an indescribable emotion. He spoke softly.

I have a scar on my face. I'm afraid Ill scare you if I take it off, sis.

My heart pounded. The dark-haired guy also had a scar on his face. I gazed at him, about to speak, when my phone suddenly buzzed. The dark-haired guy had disappeared for days but had finally sent a message:

Sweetheart, there are so many bad men around you. I want to lock you up at home, so youll only have me. Even if we go out, Ill put a leash on your wrist. To keep you securely by my side, so no other man will ever covet you

He'd even sent a candid photo of me smiling and handing him the Whiskey Sour. My breath hitched. I instinctively scanned the area, but the crowd was too dense to find him.

Im sorry, should I not have been so direct? Are you very scared?

His cool voice, tinged with self-mockery, brought me back. The person in front of me seemed very insecure, his head bowed even lower. Ah, he was still worried about his scar scaring me I put a straw in his Whiskey Sour and smiled at him.

No, not at all. I have a friend who also got hurt on their face. But that doesnt change the fact that theyre a really good person. Use the straw, you can drink even with your mask on.

He murmured softly.

A friend?

He paused, then asked.

Can we be friends?

His brown eyes truly were beautiful. Exceptionally clear and bright, reflecting little points of light like stars.

Sure, Im Halley. Nice to meet you.

He seemed shy, his earlobes turning a little red.

Sawyer.

I had a vague feeling that name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it right away. Sawyer looked up at me, then seemed to drop his gaze in disappointment. My thoughts were interrupted again by another message.

Now he wants to be friends with you, next hell want to be your boyfriend, right? Why does he get your tenderness? Hmm I broke the other guys left hand last time, how about this one gets his right hand?

This was endless. After Sawyer left, I finally had a moment to myself. I replied to the dark-haired guy with a blank expression.

Dont you dare hurt him. Stop hiding, come out. Im off work, youre allowed to walk me home.

Stepping out of the bar, I saw a black Kawasaki motorcycle parked outside. The dim streetlamp cast a yellow halo around a man's tall silhouette. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, great physique. He was wearing a helmet, so I couldn't see his face. I climbed onto the back seat. The wind howled; neither of us spoke the whole way. I was still angry, so I gripped the dark-haired guys waist, provocatively squeezing a few times. His abs were so well-defined, wasn't it all just to tempt me? Hmph, a bad, muscle-bound man with no self-control!

The motorcycle slowly stopped. His voice, distorted by the voice changer, was exceptionally deep.

Were home. You should go up.

I scoffed coldly.

Dont you have anything to say to me?

He seemed puzzled, tilting his head sluggishly. I angrily got off the bike. Finally, I let out what had been building up inside me for a long time.

Why did you run away that day without letting me finish? Why did you block me without a word? You leave when you want, come back when you want, and now youre stalking and harassing me again. I really dont understand you, what do you even want?

The dark-haired guys head drooped. His hands tightened on the handlebars. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice dry.

Its my fault.

He continued slowly.

After that day, you changed jobs. I thought my face scared you. I thought about it for a long time and decided I shouldnt bother you anymore. I tried to stay away, but I found I couldnt. The moment I saw another man near you, I couldnt control my jealousy. So mmm, I sent you those messages again. Im sorry, sweetheart.

I almost laughed in exasperation. Hey, you talk a big game, but at least be consistent!

All this time, the trash I left outside magically disappeared by morning. My accidentally lost work badge was quietly found and put back in my pocket. And several of my dresses hanging on the balcony had gone missing. These were designer clothes I bought before I went broke, and they were expensive! Why didn't he pay for them (T.T)!! Several times I tried to message the dark-haired guy, only to see a red exclamation mark. I was at my wit's end.

I said honestly.

Why are you overthinking things? I dont dislike your scar. And Im not scared.

The dark-haired guy's Adam's apple bobbed. He seemed a little taken aback. I stroked my chin.

But your recent performance hasnt been great. I really need to punish you.

Hearing the word "punishment," I felt like he got even more excited His voice was trembling.

What kind of punishment?

I calculated the money for the dresses he'd stolen. Righteously, I said:

Ill fine you $52,000, just like last time. Oh, and remember to mark it as a voluntary gift. Also, Ill punish you by making you bury me.

The dark-haired guy said blankly.

Huh?

I couldn't be bothered to explain further. I just buried my face in his chest. Ugh, soft and still so big. Even if I suffocated, it would be a blessed death! All the subtle hints of death from a day's work vanished. Daddy, we love you~ We were so close. The scent of him hadn't changed, still lemon.

He sighed softly, his voice softening.

Hey, how is this a punishment for me? Its clearly a reward, isnt it?