After giving up being a billionaire's mistress

Sariah Allen’s life had been nothing but one hard knock after another, but this time? She’d lived to tell the tale. When she woke up, it was already the next morning.

"Bruised right arm, mild concussion, a few soft tissue injuries…" The doctor ticked off her injuries from the foot of the bed, watching as she blinked back into awareness. "Anything else hurting right now?"

Sariah just shook her head and reached for her phone. Emory Kelly hadn’t even bothered to check in. But weirdly enough—Emory, who never posted anything on social media—had just shared a new photo: a breathtaking shot of the snow-capped Alps, all grand and majestic.

Of course, the real center of attention wasn’t the mountains. It was Adelaide Patterson, glowing in a show-stopping Victorian gown. Her beauty outshone even that insane backdrop.

Sariah curled deeper under her hospital blankets, and the tears just came. Four years with Emory, and what was she to him, really?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Once they discharged her, she stumbled back to her tiny apartment, popped a couple ibuprofens, and crashed. The girl’s resilience was unreal—she slept straight through the whole next day before she felt even remotely ready to face the world again.

She slapping on a few pain relief patches, then headed into work. Gotta earn that intern paycheck, after all.

"Did you see Mr. Kelly’s post? Oh my god, he never posts anything, and he does this just for Miss Patterson?" a coworker gossiped the second Sariah walked through the door.

"Mr. Kelly’s such a gentleman, waiting all these years just for her. Ugh, it’s like a fairytale."

Sariah just snorted quietly as she dropped her bag at her desk. Fine, Emory actually loved Adelaide—she’d give him that. But this whole "man of integrity" act? Total garbage.

The irony of it all hit her hard. Most guys are like that, aren’t they? They can split love and sex into two totally separate boxes. He was head over heels for Adelaide emotionally, but that didn’t stop him from crawling into Sariah’s bed night after night.

"Ms. Allen? This is the work floor—Mr. Kelly said you aren’t allowed…"

A commotion blew up by the elevators. Sariah glanced over, and cold dread immediately coiled in her gut.

Amelia Kelly was here.

"Get the hell out of my way!" Amelia snapped, striding straight toward Sariah in her designer suit and stilettos, arrogance rolling off her in waves.

Sariah shrank into herself, hunching her shoulders like she could just disappear. The terror of that freshman year bullying never really went away, not even after all this time.

"Sariah. My brother’s back in town. He and Adelaide are getting married," Amelia purred into her ear, voice thick with poison.

She smirked, cold and cruel. "Four years ago I warned you—when my brother throws you away, your life’s over…"

Sariah froze. Her whole body went rigid.

Four years later, and Amelia still wouldn’t leave her the hell alone.

Smack!

Amelia slapped her right across the face, in front of the entire office. Everyone saw.

Sariah didn’t hit back. She didn’t even make a sound.

She’d own it: she was a coward. She couldn’t afford to mess with Amelia, not when she barely had enough to get by as it was.

She’d thought about fighting back a hundred times, but as long as she wanted to keep her head above water? She couldn’t act on it.

Maybe someday, if she really hit rock bottom, she’d drag Amelia right down to hell with her. But right now? She was just trying to survive, and that meant keeping her head down.

"You remember this slap? Four years ago, my brother hit me because of you. Sent me overseas to get me out of the way! He never laid a hand on me before that—never! And he did it for you!" Amelia laughed a bitter, broken laugh, then grabbed a full cup of coffee off the nearest desk and dumped it straight over Sariah’s head.

"You seriously think you’re something special just because you latched onto my brother? You’re nothing. Just a pathetic orphan. Who is my brother, anyway? You don’t actually think he’d marry you, do you?"

Amelia shoved Sariah’s head hard, disgust twisting her face. "Get out of Kelly Group, or I’ll post every last one of your dirty secrets to the company group chat."

Sariah stayed silent, head bowed so low her hair hid her face.

The "dirty secrets" Amelia was talking about? That humiliating freshman year incident—when Amelia and her friends stripped her and took photos. Or maybe it was the four-year affair with her brother. Either way, it was all ammunition to destroy her.

No one in the office dared say a word to defend Sariah. Amelia was the heiress, after all. Who was going to risk their job for the orphan intern?

After Amelia stormed out, one coworker leaned over and whispered, "Sariah, how’d you end up on the bad side of the Kelly heiress?"

Sariah forced a wobbly smile as she blotted coffee off her face with a napkin. "We were college roommates. Just… old history."

She headed to the restroom, cleaning herself up in the quiet back stall. She didn’t cry.

Back in freshman year, she’d cried her eyes out over how unfair life was. She’d cried until she couldn’t breathe.

Was it her fault she was an orphan?

Did not having rich family connections mean she deserved to be treated like garbage?

But now she knew the cold, hard truth: being an orphan made you an easy target. No connections meant no one would have your back. Bullies don’t care about fair. They just care about who they can push around.

Ding!

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced down. Emory had sent her five thousand dollars via WhatsApp.

The whole scene at the office had to be all over the office gossip by now. Emory definitely knew Amelia had come after her.

Five thousand dollars for a slap. Nice, neat little transaction.

"I talked to Amelia, told her off. Go treat yourself," Emory added in a voice note right after.

Same old line, every single time. Treat yourself.

"Thank you, Mr. Kelly."

Sariah accepted the money. She’d earned it, putting up with all this garbage.

Staring at the chat screen, she couldn’t even name what she’d been hoping for. A little concern, maybe? A question asking if she was hurt after everything that’d happened? But there was nothing like that. Nothing at all.

She locked her phone and walked straight to HR to hand in her resignation. As an intern, the process was quick and painless.

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. She was heading to Riverside Mansion to meet Mr. Sullivan.

If she could grab this opportunity, she could finally leave Georgetown for good.

She could finally escape Emory Kelly.