1 I was in my third month of playing the part of Sabrina Sinclair’s trophy boyfriend when she wrapped her Porsche around a guardrail and ended up in a medically induced coma. Just as I was about to pack my designer luggage and slip out the back door like any sensible gold digger, a stream of neon-blue text floated across my vision, looking exactly like the live chat on a Twitch stream. [These boy toys have absolutely no vision. She’s just in a coma, not dead. She’ll wake up in three years.] I froze. I rubbed my eyes hard, but another line of text scrolled past immediately: [Sabrina Sinclair is going to be Chicago’s wealthiest tech mogul. When these freeloaders realize what a massive cash cow they walked away from, they’re going to die of regret.] I didn’t hesitate. I flung my cashmere coat onto the chair, turned on my heel, and threw myself over Sabrina’s ICU bed, weeping hysterically. “Sabrina! Oh my god, Sabrina! Don’t worry, even if the whole world gives up on you, I never will!” [Wait, Reid isn’t leaving? Whatever, even if he plays the devoted nurse, she’s still going to choose Tristan in the end. Tristan looks ninety percent like her late husband, Thomas. Tristan is the destined male lead here.] [Besides, Tristan is too smart to show up now. Taking care of a vegetable is exhausting. The suffering belongs to the side character; the sweet fruits of victory belong to the male lead. Classic.] My throat hitched, and my sobbing faltered into a pathetic squeak. My ticket to the high life was going to run off with some look-alike? So what? I was here for the money, not the romance. Before she could dump me, I was going to scrape enough gold off this relationship to set myself up for life. As a top-tier kept man, I only played high-stakes games. I looked around the sterile, empty private suite and let out a soft laugh. A trophy boyfriend is paid to look pretty, not to empty bedpans. I pulled out my phone and dialed Vivian Ross, Sabrina’s executive assistant. “Mr. Carter?” Vivian’s voice was clipped, professional, and entirely cold. “Ms. Sinclair is hospitalized. Your contract is officially void. Please do not contact this office again—” “Vivian,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “Is Sabrina dead?” “What? Of course not. She’s in critical condition, but—” “Then why the hell is she lying in a hospital bed alone, with not a single person here to look after her?” I snapped, not giving her a chance to breathe. “Or did her most trusted advisor decide to jump ship the moment she went under, just to suck up to the next CEO in line? Are you really that certain she’s never waking up?” Silence stretched over the line. When Vivian spoke again, the dismissive edge was gone, replaced by her usual guarded respect. “My apologies, Mr. Carter. It was an oversight. I will be at the hospital shortly.” The moment the call ended, my vision erupted in a flurry of scrolling comments. [How is Reid so arrogant? He’s literally a paid plaything. How does he dare talk to an executive assistant like that?] [Does he not know his place? He’s embarrassing himself.] [I can’t wait for Vivian to show up and put him in his place.] When Vivian arrived forty minutes later, I met her with an icy, disappointed glare. “I know the contract is legally void, Vivian,” I said, preempting her. “But I’m not leaving. Sabrina paid for my father’s heart surgery. Now that she’s the one fighting for her life, I’m staying by her side until she opens her eyes.” Vivian looked at me, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of a bluff. “The doctors aren’t optimistic, Mr. Carter. She might not wake up for three years, five years… or ever. If that’s the case—” “If she never wakes up, then I’ll stay for the rest of my life.” I met her skeptical gaze with absolute candor. “Look, I come from nothing. I don’t have a pedigree, I don’t have a safety net, and I certainly don’t have a trust fund. This is my one shot at changing my destiny. I’m betting everything on Sabrina. If she stays under, I accept my loss. But if she wakes up, my life changes forever.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You’re a smart woman, Vivian. You can keep climbing the corporate ladder at Sinclair Enterprises, but leave a line open here. When the tide turns, keeping a foot in Sabrina’s camp might just be your ticket back to the top.” The floating comments blurred into a chaotic mess. [What a calculating snake! Reid is literally admitting he’s using her as a ladder.] [He’s so shameless. Vivian, kick him out! Don’t let his silver tongue fool you.] Vivian stood quietly for two long minutes, her gaze searching mine. Finally, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “Is there anything you need me to coordinate, Mr. Carter?” I smiled back. “First, I want a job at Sinclair Enterprises. Any department will do. If Sabrina doesn’t wake up, I still need to make a living. Second, I’ll oversee her daily care, but I need you to lease an apartment for me within walking distance of the hospital so I can be here every day.” [Is he serious? He’s a community college dropout, how does he expect to get hired at a Fortune 500 company?] [Entry-level salaries there start at eighty grand. Tell him to kick rocks, Vivian!] Vivian didn’t hesitate. “Consider it done.” The comments went wild. I just grinned. They were right—I was taking the scenic route. In this economy, a good career trajectory is hard to find, let alone one with rapid growth and high-paying opportunities. A kept man’s ultimate evolution isn’t to remain a pet. It’s to become the predator. 2 I immediately hired four elite private nurses, paying them top dollar to provide round-the-clock, meticulous care. It was hilarious to watch the comments complain about the cost. Why should I skimp on her care? The company was footing the bill anyway. Vivian assigned me to the sales department—the absolute most brutal, high-turnover division in the company. She was clearly still testing me, hoping the grueling pressure would make me quit. But she underestimated how badly I wanted to rewrite my life. Within a year, I was the top-performing sales representative in the regional division. My annual income, bolstered by heavy commissions, officially crossed into seven figures. Yet, I never let my performance at work overshadow my commitment to Sabrina. No matter how late I pulled overtime, I went to the hospital every single night. I sat by her bed, talking to her about my day. I walked the halls, building rapport with the doctors, consulting with specialists, and offering comforting words to other patients’ families. To the hospital staff and anyone looking on, I became the epitome of the devoted, grief-stricken boyfriend. Loyal. Incurably romantic. Selfless. When the opportunity for a promotion to Sales Manager came up, I turned it down. Instead, I requested a transfer to the Investment Department as a entry-level analyst. The comments watching my life play out were utterly baffled. [Is Reid out of his mind? He was about to be promoted to manager, and now he wants to start over from the bottom in investments?] [By the way, those two massive projects that eventually turn Sabrina into a billionaire are arriving in two weeks. It’s a shame the investment team is too blind to see their value and rejects them. Luckily, Sabrina discovers them herself after she wakes up.] I kept my face entirely blank, silently memorizing every scrap of information. I worked through a fever, refusing to take a single sick day, terrified I would miss the window. Finally, on a rainy Tuesday morning, the virtual chat lit up with excitement. [Here it is! The project that’s going to change everything. Who would have guessed Aegis Energy’s solid-state battery tech would completely disrupt the market?] [Quiet down, guys. The investment board is going to veto it anyway. They’re clueless.] During the pitch meeting, I sat quietly in the back, acting as a glorified shadow. When the board inevitably passed on the project, I volunteered to escort the founders to the parking garage. Once we reached the concrete basement, I stepped in front of them, blocking the elevator doors. “My company might have passed on your proposal,” I said, handing them my personal card. “But I believe in your technology. I want to invest in Aegis Energy under my own name. Money won’t be an issue.” Under their stunned gazes, we signed a preliminary contract right there on the hood of a sedan. The moment our hands met, the comments scrolled past so fast they were a blue smear. [What is this guy doing?! He’s literally stealing the female lead’s destiny! That’s a billion-dollar venture!] [Is he a regressor? How does he know about this?] [Whatever you do, don’t let him get his hands on tomorrow’s EcoLoop project!] The next morning, I executed the exact same maneuver with the green energy recycling start-up, EcoLoop. The virtual chat went entirely numb. There were curses, tears, and eventually, desperate pleas. [You’re just a man, why do you have to work so hard? If you just let Sabrina go, we can petition the collective consciousness to let her keep you as her exclusive kept lover.] [Being the man behind a powerful woman is so much easier. You get pampered, loved, bought luxury cars and expensive gifts. Why choose the hard road?] Why be a favorite concubine when I could build my own empire? I ignored the whining. Over the next few weeks, I picked up several quick-turnaround, mid-sized ventures, using their rapid returns to fund my two major acquisitions. And then, the day arrived for the “destined male lead” to enter the picture. [Tristan is finally on shift tomorrow! He’s assigned to Sabrina’s private wing.] [In a week, Sabrina is going to wake up. The very first thing she’ll see is Tristan working tirelessly by her bedside. It’s going to be love at first sight!] [She’ll think Tristan was the one who nursed her through those three years. The romantic tension is going to be insane. Ha! Reid worked himself to the bone for nothing!] 3 Someone was trying to harvest my crops? I had guarded this billionaire for over a thousand days. No one was stealing my harvest. First thing the next morning, I initiated a transfer to move Sabrina to a standard, multi-patient general ward. The head nurse was horrified. Given Sabrina’s wealth, a general ward was practically an insult. “I feel like the private suite is too sterile, too isolating,” I lied smoothly, letting my eyes well up with performative tears. “Sabrina’s vitals are improving. A livelier environment with ambient noise might give her the sensory stimulation she needs to wake up. I want her to feel the warmth of the living world.” And just like that, before Tristan could even clock in for his first shift, I had Sabrina wheeled out of his assigned wing. As we crossed paths in the corridor, Tristan glanced toward the gurney, but I casually stepped into his line of sight, blocking his view entirely. Not knowing the exact moment she would wake, I took a two-week leave of absence from work. I lived in that hospital room, sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair, running to the bathroom only when absolutely necessary. On the seventh morning, the floating comments began to flicker wildly. She’s waking up! I leaped out of my chair, draped myself over the edge of her mattress, and buried my face in my arms right beside her hand, making sure my exhausted, pale profile was perfectly positioned toward her. I closed my eyes and pretended to be fast asleep. When Sabrina opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a handsome, deeply exhausted man holding her hand, sleeping fitfully by her side. I let my eyelashes flutter, slowly opening my eyes to look at her. “Sabrina? Oh my god… you’re awake? You’re really awake?” “One thousand, one hundred and eighty-four days,” I sobbed, letting the tears spill over. “You’re finally back.” Sabrina’s awakening threw the entire company into a frenzy. Executives and board members flooded the room, but I quietly withdrew to the corner, playing the part of the devoted, unassuming partner who only cared that she was safe. When the room finally cleared, Sabrina reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me close. “Reid,” she said, her voice raspy but fierce. “Vivian told me everything. You were the only one who didn’t leave. You’ve suffered so much for me.” Billionaires have a wonderfully practical way of showing gratitude. Within forty-eight hours, she gifted me a penthouse, a custom sports car, and wired a nine-figure sum to my personal account as “living expenses.” To ensure the longevity of my investment, I spent the next few weeks reinforcing my devoted persona. During her physical therapy, I walked alongside her, encouraging her to take slow laps around the hospital gardens. I even coaxed her to eat in the public cafeteria to “experience normal life again.” Every time we went out, it was a masterclass in public relations. “Oh, Reid! Your girlfriend is finally awake!” a nurse called out. “Your dedication paid off.” “Reid is a saint,” an elderly visitor whispered to his wife. “He was here every single day, rain or shine.” With every public interaction, Sabrina’s affection for me deepened. The gifts became a daily occurrence: designer watches, bespoke cufflinks, gold bullion, luxury SUVs, and cash. Even with my high expectations, the sheer volume of wealth was staggering. Striking while the iron was hot, I requested to work directly from her VIP suite so I could manage my investments while keeping her company. I fed her, kept her entertained with lighthearted gossip, and occasionally asked for her advice on business matters. We fell into a comfortable, domestic rhythm. One evening, as she held me close, her chin resting on my head, she murmured softly, “Reid, let’s make it official. Let’s get married and spend the rest of our lives together. What do you say?” I buried my face in her shoulder and nodded slowly. The trophy boyfriend was finally securing the crown. The next day, confident in our arrangement, I returned to the office full-time. To make her own work easier, Sabrina transferred back to the VVIP wing. For the first time in three years, the virtual comments celebrated as if they had won a war. [Oh my god, they’re finally going to meet! The legendary ‘glance of destiny’ is happening!] [Look! Tristan just tripped and fell right into Sabrina’s arms!] 4 I watched the screen of comments with a detached calm, then quietly called my broker to liquidate several of the luxury watches and cars Sabrina had given me, funneling the cash straight into Aegis and EcoLoop. The projects were already beginning to yield massive returns. When I arrived at the hospital that evening, Tristan was indeed draped across Sabrina’s lap, looking flustered and delicate, though he showed no rush to get up. “What… what is going on here?” My voice trembled. I stepped back, my eyes wide with hurt, my hand flying to my mouth as if to stifle a sob. Sabrina panicked instantly, shoving Tristan away so hard he nearly hit the bedside table. “Reid! It’s not what it looks like. Tristan’s blood sugar dropped suddenly, and I was just holding him up—” Tristan hit the floor, staring up at Sabrina with wide, tear-filled eyes, but she didn’t even look at him. He shot me a venomous glare, scrambled to his feet, and pushed past me, deliberately clipping my shoulder as he stormed out. I forgave Sabrina with a display of quiet, magnanimous grace. She, consumed by guilt, immediately wired another massive sum to my account to “make things right.” [The second lead is so shallow. All he cares about is money. Our Tristan is so pure; he only cares about true love.] [Sabrina doesn’t even realize she’s falling for Tristan yet. She’s hurting him just to placate this gold digger. She’s going to regret this so much.] Over the next three months, the comments were filled with romantic developments between them. Sabrina “accidentally” brushing Tristan’s hand; Tristan “accidentally” falling onto her lap during a reflex test. I caught them in these intimate, lingering moments regularly. Every time, I played my part: I cried, I made a scene, I demanded answers. And every time, Sabrina explained, comforted me, and bought my silence with more assets. But I could feel the routine wearing thin. Her apologies were becoming perfunctory, and the look in her eyes when she watched Tristan was growing increasingly intense with curiosity and a strange, lingering familiarity. The plot was pulling them together, and no amount of my interference could stop it. The day after Sabrina gifted me a massive countryside estate, Tristan blocked my path on my way to the office. “Reid, are you blind?” he sneered, his delicate face twisting with arrogance. “She doesn’t love you anymore. She loves me. How do you still have the nerve to cling to her?” I rolled my eyes. “She calls me her fiancé, Tristan. I don’t care who she looks at; I’m the one who’s getting married to her. You’re just a side piece she keeps in the dark.” Tristan raised his hand as if to strike me, but he froze, his fingers trembling in the air before he dropped his arm. What a coward. “Don’t act so high and mighty,” he hissed. “I know you started out as her kept plaything. You only got promoted because of those three years. You won’t win. Just wait—in a few days, I’ll make sure you’re out of her life for good.” He turned and strutted away, his shoulders high. I watched him go, completely unbothered. Honestly, I had accumulated more than enough wealth, and my investment portfolio was becoming too demanding for me to keep playing this exhausting game of domestic jealousy. I just needed Tristan to be competent enough to give me a clean exit. A week later, I received a text from an unknown number. The trap was set. It was time to leave. When I arrived at the VVIP wing, the corridor was already packed with reporters, their cameras flashing. I smiled to myself—this was going to be spectacular. Under the harsh glare of the media lights, the door to Sabrina’s suite was wide open. Inside, Sabrina and Tristan were caught in a state of clear disarray, her coat hastily draped over her bare shoulders. A reporter spotted me and shoved a microphone into my face. “Mr. Carter! Ms. Sinclair has been caught in a compromising position with her private nurse, despite your three years of loyal devotion. As her fiancé, what is your response to this betrayal?” I let my eyes redden, casting one final, lingering look of deep sorrow at Sabrina before putting on a brave face for the cameras. “Ms. Sinclair and I actually ended our romantic relationship amicably some time ago,” I said, my voice steady but thick with emotion. “We are currently just close friends and business partners. Since both Ms. Sinclair and Mr. Tristan are single, it is entirely natural for them to explore their feelings. Please refrain from using terms like ‘infidelity’ or ‘betrayal’ to tarnish her reputation. Sinclair Enterprises will not hesitate to pursue legal action against any defamatory press.” Behind me, I heard Sabrina let out a choked, devastated cry of disbelief. I turned away, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across my face.
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