My Boyfriend Of Six Years Asked Me To Sign A Mistress Contract

I had been with Ethan Whitmore for six years. One day, he handed me an agreement. I assumed it was a prenup. I had just picked up the pen to sign when I saw the title. Mistress Agreement Three-year term. He would decide when we met and whether to renew. My fingers trembled. “Ethan, what is this supposed to mean?” He lit a cigarette without even looking at me. “The company needs this marriage. My grandfather has already chosen someone for me. Her family has just as much money and status as ours. I have to get married.” “Then what about me?” My voice came out hoarse. He looked up, a smile at the corner of his mouth, as though he hadn’t heard the pain in my voice. “Babe, be fair to me.” “Your dad walked out on you and your mom, and you still pay for his care. Your ex used you and dumped you, and you still helped him pay off his debts.” “All I’m asking is for you to become my secret mistress. That’s not so unreasonable, is it?” So for six years, I had been nothing more than a pet to him. Something to play with when he felt like it. Something whose feelings he could ignore when he didn’t. But Ethan, if this is how you’re going to treat me, I’ll make you pay. **** Every clause was there in black and white. “When Ethan contacts you, you must meet him as requested. You may not ask about his schedule or private life.” “In public, you may not initiate hugs, kisses, or any other physical contact that could reveal your intimate relationship with Ethan.” “If you become pregnant during the term of this agreement, you must deal with it yourself…” I stared at the last clause. My hand moved instinctively to my lower abdomen, my fingertips cold. Ethan leaned back on the sofa, smoking. He glanced at me. “Sign it.” He flicked the ash from his cigarette. “What are you waiting for?” I set the agreement down. My voice shook with anger. “Ethan…we’ve been together for six years!” “And?” He laughed. “Six years, and you’re still not my wife, are you?” He knew I had been waiting for him to propose. Now he was using it to mock me. Yes. Six years. He had taken me to countless family dinners. He had never tried to hide me. But he always introduced me the same way. “My assistant.” Perhaps his mother had guessed what was going on between us. More than once, she had hinted, “You should think about getting married and having children. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to find the right person.” I had thought she wanted Ethan and me to get married. Now I understood. She simply didn’t want to say it outright. She was waiting for me to realize it was time to leave. “Then what did these six years mean?” I asked. Ethan stubbed out his cigarette, stood, and walked over to me. “We both wanted it.” He reached out and brushed his thumb over my lips. “Claire Bennett, you kept me company for six years. I supported you for six years. How many of your dad’s medical bills could you have paid with that little salary of yours? Those tens of thousands your ex owed? Didn’t you pay them off with my card?” He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting again. “Babe, be fair. You didn’t hesitate to spend my money. What I’m doing now is just a fair exchange.” My eyes burned, but not a single tear fell. He had never said these things before. That didn’t make them untrue. My father really had abandoned my mother and me. When he got old and sick, he came back asking for my help. I couldn’t bring myself to turn him away. Paying for his treatment had drained my savings. As for my ex… He was just a man I had dated for a month before we broke up because we weren’t compatible. I hadn’t known he had secretly used my Social Security number and personal information to take out loans until debt collectors showed up at my office. Ethan had stepped in and dealt with it. I knew I owed him. I just hadn’t imagined he was keeping track of every dollar. “So…” I pushed his hand away. “You’re saying you felt nothing for me these past six years? That I was just an investment?” Ethan laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. What could I possibly gain by investing in you?” He took out a bank card and placed it beside the agreement. “There’s seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the account. Sign, and it’s yours.” “Be my mistress for three years. After that, if you want to continue, we continue. If you don’t, the money is still yours.” I looked down at the card. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Enough to pay back everything I owed him. Not enough to buy me. I almost said it several times, but the words never left my mouth. Because I thought of the bills from my father’s private care facility. If I didn’t pay soon, they would send him home. Ethan knew I couldn’t afford it. That was why he could toss the card in front of me so casually. Like throwing a piece of bread to a beggar on the street. He knew I needed money. He was waiting for me to accept his terms. “Well?” When I still didn’t move, he lit another cigarette. “Not enough?” I said nothing. “Fair enough. After six years with me, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars isn’t much.” He blew smoke into my face, making my eyes sting. “But that’s what I pay a mistress, not a girlfriend. That’s what you’re worth now.” He paused and smiled at me. “Of course, you can refuse. But if you do, you can’t keep living in this apartment.” My chest tightened. For six years, I had thought of this place as home. I had tended every succulent on the balcony myself. The spice jars in the kitchen were arranged the way I liked them. Our photo had always stood on the nightstand. I had thought this was our home. In the end, I was just a tenant he could throw out whenever he wanted. “Ethan…” My voice was still shaking. “If you don’t love me anymore, we can break up peacefully. There’s no need to humiliate me like this.” “Love?” He repeated the word as though it amused him. “Claire, does your father care about you?” “Did your ex love you?” “When you gave those people everything you had, did any of them care about you?” He kept pushing. Kept trying to make me admit that the people I had worked so hard to keep in my life could leave whenever they wanted. “I suppose they did,” he answered himself, his voice suddenly quieter. “At least at one point.” My tears finally fell. Not because his words were cruel. But because, for a moment, I thought he was right. “Are you signing or not?” He held out the pen, unwilling to wait any longer. I took it. I turned to page two, clause five. If you become pregnant during the term of this agreement, you must deal with it yourself… My hand paused. Ethan added, in the same tone he had used for every other clause, “Don’t worry. I won’t get you pregnant. My fiancée’s family is very traditional. I can’t have a child with another woman before we’re married.” Fiancée. The word I had wanted for so long. It had never once belonged to me. “Ethan, what if I told you I’m already…” I stopped before I could finish. Forget it. What difference would it make? I lowered my eyes and spoke quietly. “What if I told you my mother and I have already chosen a wedding date for me early next month? Would you still make me sign this?” “Your mother?” He laughed. “Your useless mother drowned herself. Who exactly have you been talking to?” He exhaled slowly. Through the smoke, I couldn’t make out his expression. “Even without any of this, I wasn’t planning to get married so soon.” “Early next month? You really do live in a fantasy.” I closed my eyes. Six years. We were both almost thirty. Getting married at our age was hardly rushing things. The wedding would never happen because he had never intended to marry me. When I opened my eyes, my fingers had stopped trembling. I signed the last page. “Good girl.” Ethan picked up the agreement, checked my signature, and smiled. “Everything stays the same. The only difference is that, from now on, you’ll call me ‘sir.’” He leaned down and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead. “That’s my girl.” Then he left. The door closed softly. I looked down at the bank card. Slowly, I crouched and buried my face in my knees. Outside, it began to rain. As hard as it had the night he brought me in from the rain six years ago. Back then, he had held an umbrella over me and brought me home. Now he wanted to throw me out of that home. I didn’t know how long I stayed there. My legs went numb. My tears ran dry. I slowly stood, went to the bathroom, and turned on the faucet. I splashed cold water on my face until I looked calm again. Then I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Mom, you were right. I lost.” “That thing you mentioned before…there’s no need to wait anymore. I’m ready.” There was a pause on the other end. “Are you sure? Once we start, there’s no going back.” I looked out the window. “I’m sure.”

Early the next morning, I went to the private care facility. A caregiver was wheeling my father into the courtyard to sit in the sun. He had aged so much. His hair was completely white, and he was so thin his clothes hung loose on him. I handed him the bank card. “There’s seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the account. Enough for the best facility and the best care. From now on, I won’t be coming back.” “She wants me to settle all of this before I go to see her.” His lips trembled as though he had so much to ask. I didn’t give him the chance. There were things I didn’t want to remember. But as I turned to leave, I thought of what had happened that year. The year he went bankrupt, he knelt in front of me and asked whether I could forgive him. I suddenly found it absurd. My mother had tried so hard to hold on to a man that it had cost her her life. And he thought saying he was sorry should be enough for me to forgive him. That was why I had sworn I would never be like her. I wouldn’t cry, cling to someone, and lose everything. Just as I was about to tell him I didn’t forgive him, headlights flashed at the edge of my vision. An out-of-control delivery truck was heading straight for me. The next second, someone shoved me out of the way. I hit the ground hard. When I turned back, he was lying in a pool of blood. The truck’s bumper had driven into the left side of his body. He had been badly injured saving me. That was why he needed long-term care. The seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars wasn’t for being my father. It was for saving my life. After that, I went to work as usual. I was sorting files when Ethan walked into the office. He glanced at me, his face expressionless. “Claire, bring this quarter’s financial report to my office.” “Yes, sir.” I answered without hesitation. He was the one who paused. “You’ve adjusted quickly,” he said under his breath. As he passed, his fingers deliberately brushed the back of my hand. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t respond. Our relationship wasn’t much of a secret at work. Over the past six years, he had picked me up after work and taken me to a few business dinners. Our coworkers already knew. They just never said anything. But we had never publicly acknowledged our relationship. Now he called me “Claire,” and I called him “sir.” To everyone else, it simply looked as though we were keeping things professional. That evening, he sent me a location. I took a cab there. I opened the suite door to find rose petals scattered across the floor and a silk nightgown hanging on a rack. She was gone. Her perfume wasn’t. Ethan spoke from behind me. “Seen enough?” I turned. He leaned against the doorframe, a cigarette in his hand and a faint smile on his face, watching for my reaction. “Help out at the engagement party next week.”

I kept my voice steady. “Help with what?” They had hired a top event-planning team for the engagement party. They didn’t need his ex-girlfriend helping out. “Greet the guests. You know the people from the company. Help me welcome them.” He exhaled a stream of smoke. “Vivian Sinclair thinks you should be there, too. She wants you to see how happy we are.” I gave a short laugh. That last sentence was the real reason he wanted me there. “All right.” I took out my phone to make a note. “I’ll confirm the details with you at the office tomorrow. If there’s nothing else, may I leave?” His fiancée had just left. He probably didn’t need me to stay overnight. After all, a mistress was only there when he wanted sex. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not upset?” “Do you want me to be, sir?” He said nothing. He put out his cigarette, walked over, and gripped my chin. “Claire, honestly, you’ve changed a lot lately.” His fingers tightened. “This attitude of yours is really pissing me off.” I kept my eyes lowered. “How would you like me to act, sir? I can change.” This was exactly what had attracted him to me in the first place. I worked beside him. I had plenty of opportunities to get close to him, but I never asked him for anything. Back then, he said he liked my self-respect. Now he didn’t like my attitude. I had always been this way. He was the one who had changed. “Forget it.” He stared into my eyes for a long time before letting go. “Go home.” I turned to leave, but he wrapped his arms around me from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder. His voice grew quieter. “Do you know why I won’t let you leave me?” He meant the Mistress Agreement that kept me there. I didn’t know either. I had thought that, at the very least, two people could break up peacefully when they no longer loved each other. “Because you’re so obedient. You never make things difficult for me. You never cause a scene or ask where I’ve been or who I’ve seen. Unlike her. She’s always asking where I am and who I’m with.” His arms tightened. “Sometimes I think, if you came from a family with money and status, I wouldn’t have to marry someone else.” I almost laughed. In the end, he blamed me for not coming from a better family. But he had forgotten something. He was the one who had pursued me. He had known what my family was like from the beginning. “Sir…” I gently pulled his hands away. “What color should I wear to the engagement party? I’ll need time to get something.” His hands stopped in midair. Perhaps he was tired after sleeping with her and didn’t want to keep arguing with me. In the end, he let me leave. Outside the hotel, I realized my nails had dug into my palm hard enough to draw blood. On the day of the engagement party, I stood by the ballroom entrance, checking in guests. I held a glass of champagne. But I couldn’t stop looking at the couple surrounded by people congratulating them. Watching them, I remembered the day I signed the Mistress Agreement. I had quietly left the medical report confirming my pregnancy in his study drawer. I thought that once he found it, he would propose. So when he brought out the agreement, my heart had jumped. I thought it was a prenup. He came from a wealthy family. Signing one before getting married was perfectly normal. I was willing to sign. Because all I wanted was him. I had never imagined that, after six years, this was what he would offer me. I had gone from being his girlfriend to a mistress no one could know about. Near the end of the party, Vivian stopped in front of me. She smiled. “You must be Claire?” I paused, then nodded. “Ethan’s mentioned you. He says you’ve worked at the company for years and you’re very good at your job.” I gave a few polite replies. She smoothed back her hair. “Oh, by the way, I won’t be letting him stay at that apartment after next week. We’ve already chosen a place to live once we’re married.” “It wouldn’t really work for you to stay there, either. You should start looking for somewhere else.” My fingers trembled. I almost cried. I lowered my head and straightened the guest list, waiting until I could speak without crying. “All right…I’ll make arrangements.” I had barely finished speaking when she picked up the glass of champagne beside me. Before I could react, she screamed. “Oh!” “You…why did you throw your drink on me?” Then she slapped me hard across the face. I pressed a hand to my cheek and looked up. All I saw was her champagne-soaked dress and her reddened eyes. People across the ballroom turned to look. Ethan approached, frowning. “What happened?” Vivian immediately threw herself into his arms. “Ethan, I was only trying to help. I told her you wouldn’t be staying at the apartment anymore and suggested she find another place. Then she threw her drink on me…” “Claire!” “I didn’t…” My voice was strained. “What, she poured it on herself and then slapped you?” He had already decided Vivian couldn’t have done it. No one would believe a bride-to-be had poured a drink on herself at her own engagement party. And he had already decided I didn’t want to give up the apartment. “Apologize,” he said coldly. I didn’t move. “Don’t make this difficult for me. You know what today is. Making a scene won’t do you any favors. Apologize, or don’t come to work tomorrow.” I looked at him. Six years ago, he had brought me in from the rain and said, “No one will ever dare hurt you again.” Six years later, he held the woman who had just hit me and demanded that I apologize to her. I thought I had accepted that he didn’t love me anymore. But right then, my chest hurt so much I could barely speak. I lowered my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown my drink on you.” Ethan still didn’t look entirely satisfied. But he turned to the people watching and told them to move along. “It’s fine. Just a misunderstanding. Please, enjoy the party.” Before leaving, he looked at me one last time. “Go clean yourself up in the restroom. Don’t embarrass yourself here.” I touched my swollen cheek, then the hair that had come loose when she slapped me. Yes, it was humiliating. But the most humiliating part was that the man I had loved for six years had decided I was guilty in front of everyone without even checking what had happened. I took out my phone and sent a message. I want to move up our plan. Then I laughed through my tears.