The Simp Cure

I just slapped my billionaire boss across the face. Hard.

Hes lying in a VIP hospital bed, paralyzed, heartbroken, and trying to starve himself to death over a woman who already married someone else. Pathetic.

The stock is plummeting, thousands of employees are waiting for their paychecks, and youre lying here trying to un-alive yourself over a breakup?

Hayes stares at me, stunned. His eyes are red, his cheek is swelling, and for the first time in weeks, he isnt looking at the window.

I grip his jaw, forcing him to look at me. I smile, but there is no warmth in it.

Listen to me carefully, Hayes. You better get up and start making money. If my paycheck bounces, I will strip you naked and sell your designer pants on eBay. Try me.

Chapter 1

Hayes lay in the VIP hospital suite, his face the color of wet chalk.

I needed this paycheck.

I waved a stack of urgent contracts in his face, practically begging. Hayes, the board needs a decision. If you don't want to read them, I can read them to you. Like a bedtime story.

Hayes stared at the ceiling. Neck in a brace. Eyes dead. He looked like a mannequin someone had thrown in a dumpster.

My blood boiled.

Three days ago, I was pulling an all-nighter when my actual boss called to scream at me. He trashed my proposal and threatened to dock my pay.

I hung up, fuming. I couldn't sleep.

I grabbed a trashy web novel to kill time.

The plot was a walking clich.

Rich heiress dumps her billionaire fianc for a broke bad boy. The fianc goes full villain, tries to ruin them, ends up paralyzed in a car crash. Company goes bankrupt. Villain starves himself to death. Hero and heroine live happily ever after.

The trashy plot made my blood boil.

I finally fell asleep and woke up inside the book. As the villain's assistant.

Hayes was sticking to the script. He was trying to starve himself.

I'd been here three days. He hadn't eaten a crumb.

I called the doctors. We hooked him up to IVs. Nutrients. Glucose. If he wouldn't eat, I'd force-feed him through a tube if I had to.

Starving wasn't working fast enough, so Hayes switched tactics. He wanted to jump.

The second the nurse looked away, he'd roll off the bed and drag himself toward the window.

Luckily, his legs were useless. He just crawled across the floor like a broken insect. He couldn't reach the sill.

The nurses quit. They couldn't handle the drama.

That left me on twenty-four-hour watch.

I went to the bathroom for two minutes. When I came back, he was at it again. Clawing his way up the wall.

Meredith, his mother, was clinging to his waist, sobbing. No! Hayes, don't!

A vein in my temple throbbed.

I snapped.

I marched over, yanked Meredith away, and wound up my arm.

SMACK. SMACK.

Two hard slaps across Hayes's face.

The stock is tanking! Thousands of employees are about to lose their livelihoods! And you're here trying to off yourself over a girl?

Hayes clutched his stinging cheek. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. You you hit me.

You bet your ass I did.

I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me. I gave him my coldest smile. You better get up and start making money. If my paycheck bounces, I will strip you naked and sell your designer pants on eBay.

Hayes didn't care. He tried to lunge for the window again.

That was it.

I grabbed his legs and hoisted him up onto the sill.

Hayes panicked. He gripped the frame, knuckles white. What are you doing?!

Meredith let out a banshee scream and lunged at me.

I blocked her with one arm, staring Hayes dead in the eye. Jump. Go ahead. If you don't jump, you're not a man.

Hayes was trapped. Humiliated. Furious.

He let go.

He fell.

Meredith shrieked, scrambling down the stairs like a madwoman.

By the time I walked down to the courtyard, Hayes was sprawled on a giant inflatable safety mat.

He was staring at the sky, arms trembling. Alive.

Rocco, the head of security, was explaining things to a hyperventilating Meredith. Ms. Greer had us set this up days ago. Don't worry, ma'am. Mr. Hayes is perfectly safe.

Meredith rushed over and grabbed my hands, tears streaming down her face. Greer. Thank you. Oh my god, thank you.

She looked me in the eye, desperate. If you can help Hayes get over this if you can fix him I'll give you thirty million dollars.

Chapter 2

Thirty million dollars.

My brain short-circuited.

I said yes before Meredith could blink.

This wasn't just a boss anymore. This was a walking, talking ATM.

I fired the nurses. I took over everything.

I fetched his water. I massaged his dead legs.

Dr. Webber said the paralysis was temporary. With aggressive rehab, Hayes could walk again.

When Hayes heard that, a flicker of light returned to his eyes.

Then it died.

Genevieve doesn't want me, he whispered. What's the point of walking if she's gone?

The point? I scoffed. The point is you can go to the bathroom without me holding your hand. The point is I don't have to wipe your ass.

Hayes's face crumbled. Get the nurses back, he snarled. I don't want you doing that.

You scared them all away with your creepy crawling routine.

I don't care! I don't want you touching me!

I smirked. Fine. If you can hold it.

Two IV bags later, Hayes was squirming.

He used his two working fingers to adjust the bed. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Nothing helped.

I sat on the couch, scrolling through TikTok, ignoring the daggers he was staring into the side of my head.

Thirty minutes passed.

Hey.

I didn't look up. Who's Hey?

Hayes looked like he was swallowing glass. Greer.

Yeah?

I I need to go.

I got up, grabbed the plastic urinal from the bathroom, and marched over.

I ripped the blanket off.

I yanked his pajama pants down.

I grabbed himhis equipmentand shoved it into the plastic bottle.

Silence. Then the sound of liquid hitting plastic.

Hayes let out a shaky breath.

I looked up. He had turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. His ears were burning red. He looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

Like I was the one violating him.

Please. I was the one dealing with his bodily fluids.

I ignored his drama. I pulled his pants up, efficient as a robot.

I took the jug to the bathroom and dumped it.

When I came back, Hayes was staring at the wall, jaw set. I'm doing the rehab, he announced. Starting now.

I texted Meredith.

Ding.

Five million hit my account.

I stared at the zeros.

Suddenly, I wasn't mad about the overtime anymore.

I ordered a Michelin-star lunch. Hayes ate like a starving wolf.

When he was done, I dropped a mountain of paperwork onto his lap.

Thud.

Work.

We fell into a routine. Work. Rehab. Repeat.

The Webber team was top-tier. My job was simple: be the jailer. Make sure he did the exercises. Then make him sign the contracts.

The motivation of peeing alone was powerful.

Hayes attacked his rehab like a man possessed. He fell. Over and over. But he kept getting up.

I had to admit, the guy had grit.

A month later.

I was wiping his face with a warm towel. Routine. I went to grab the urinal.

Time to go, I said, reaching for the blanket.

Hayes clamped his good arm down on the duvet. No.

I paused. His ears were pink. Are you serious? You're shy now?

Get out.

We have rehab in ten minutes. I don't have time for this.

I yanked the blanket back.

Hayes panicked. He slammed his hand over his crotch. I said get out!

I froze.

My eyes locked onto his hand.

Hayes was paralyzed from the waist down.

Which meant

If he could feel that

If he was trying to hide that

Chapter 3

I stared at him, wide-eyed.

Pure, unadulterated shock.

I looked up. Hayes was glaring at me, his face burning with a mix of fury and humiliation. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Just then, Dr. Webber and his team breezed in for rounds.

Hayes yanked the duvet up to his chin, shrinking into the mattress.

Good morning, Dr. Webber said, his voice smooth and professional. Any progress today? Any sensation below the waist?

Hayes hesitated. His Adam's apple bobbed. No.

No? I snapped. What do you mean, no?

I marched over and ripped the blanket off. I pointed directly at the evidence. Then what do you call that?

The medical team leaned in. Eyes widened. Murmurs of surprise.

The doctors huddled, whispering furiously. Dr. Webber turned back to us, beaming. This is a major breakthrough. Mr. Hayes, you'll be walking sooner than we thought.

APPLAUSE broke out.

Actual applause.

The nurses were clapping. The residents were giving him thumbs-ups.

Incredible willpower, sir, one of them gushed. We've never seen a recovery this fast. Truly inspiring.

Hayes stared straight ahead, his face a mask of stone. Thanks, he ground out.

We'll go adjust your treatment plan immediately. Let's get you back on your feet.

The team filed out, practically skipping with excitement.

I closed the door, grinning like I'd just won the lottery.

I turned around.

Hayes was looking at me like he wanted to strangle me. Greer!

His voice was a low, dangerous growl. Did you do that on purpose?

I blinked. Do what?

Yank the covers off! You knew you just wanted to humiliate me!

Telling your doctors about a medical miracle isn't humiliation, I said, grabbing the morning paper from the nightstand.

I tossed it onto his lap. This. This is humiliation.

Front page.

Genevieve's wedding.

A full-page spread gushing about her fairytale romance that defied social class.

And at the bottom? A tiny, grainy photo of Hayes. Bloody. Broken. Being loaded onto a stretcher after his crash.

The caption: The Ex-Fianc Who Couldn't Let Go.

The contrast was brutal. The radiant bride versus the broken stalker.

Even I felt a twinge of pity.

Hayes stared at the photo. His jaw tightened until I thought his teeth would crack.

That was the fuel he needed.

He attacked his rehab with a terrifying intensity.

Two months later, he was walking with a cane.

Meredith wired me another ten million. She gripped my hands, tears in her eyes. Greer, we owe you everything. You saved him.

Oh, no, Meredith. It was a mother's love that saved him. That's the real miracle.

We smiled at each other, the picture of mutual admiration.

When she left, Hayes scoffed. A mother's love? Or the love of cold, hard cash?

I checked my bank balance on my phone. The numbers were beautiful. I decided to ignore the petty man.

Hayes was a villain for a reason. He was a machine.

Once he was discharged, he closed three massive deals in a week.

Clients saw himlimping but determined, a titan refusing to falland they ate it up. They signed lifetime contracts on the spot.

The employees saw their boss grinding through the pain, and morale skyrocketed.

Six months later, profits had tripled. And Hayes's leg was fully healed.

To celebrate, the company rented out a massive ballroom at the Ritz.

After work, I drove Hayes to one of his family's department stores to pick out a suit.

We walked in.

And froze.

Genevieve.

The heroine. The ex-fiance. The reason for the crash.

She was standing right there.

Chapter 4

Misty, the sales clerk, looked pained. Ms. Genevieve, your card has been declined. Frozen. Maybe you could come back for these later?

Can't I just put it on my tab?

I'm afraid not.

Why not? I always put it on my tab.

You could put it on your tab because Mr. Hayes authorized it. He always settled the bill, Misty said, her voice dripping with polite venom. Under the current circumstances that doesn't seem appropriate.

Genevieve's face flushed a deep, ugly red.

Misty twisted the knife. Perhaps your husband could cover it?

Everyone knew the story. Genevieve dumped her billionaire fianc for true love, got disowned by her family, and was cut off from the money tap.

Hayes cracked.

I'll pay for it.

Genevieve spun around. Hayes?

Her face crumbled. She looked like a lost child who just spotted her daddy. Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes filled with instant, weaponized tears.

Hayes's icy demeanor shattered. Don't cry. Tell me what's wrong.

He was frantic. He reached out, using his expensive sleeve to dab at her tears.

I stared.

This was it. The final boss of simps.

I wanted to kick him in the shins.

Genevieve sniffled, forcing a brave, watery smile through the tears. I'm just so happy to see you're okay.

Oh, please, I stepped between them. If you were so worried, where were you when he was in the hospital?

I I

Genevieve's brows furrowed. The tears started flowing again.

Hayes shot me a look that could kill. He turned back to her, voice soft. I know he wouldn't let you come. I don't blame you.

Genevieve beamed through her tears. Really?

Really.

I gagged. Physically gagged.

They stood there, lost in their own little soap opera.

Genevieve looked up at him, doe-eyed and fragile. My dad cut me off. But you know me I can't wear cheap clothes. My skin is too sensitive.

Hayes was drunk on her attention. He pulled out a sleek black card. Here. Take it. Buy whatever you want.

I stood there, arms crossed, waiting for the crash.

Genevieve didn't hesitate. She grabbed the card and went on a rampage. Dresses. Bags. Shoes. She practically cleared the racks.

At the register, she handed the card over with a smug little smirk.

Misty forced a smile and swiped.

Beep.

She frowned. Swiped again.

Beep.

Misty's smile vanished. It's declined.

Hayes frowned. He took the card, inspected it, and pulled out another one. Platinum this time. Try this one.

One minute later