Evicting My Billionaire Sugar Daddy

I got into a brawl with my benefactors golden girl at the gala. Julian hauled me out of the chaos. My hair was a wreck, but my gaze was ice cold.

Youre taking her side?

He didnt say a word. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it square in his face.

Were done. Im the one dumping you.

Chapter 1

Ive been Julian Prescotts kept woman for three years. Hes gorgeous, loaded, and incredible in bed. Hes also generous, with one non-negotiable rule: no kissing scenes on screen.

Sure, it cost me some high-profile roles, and people called me a holier-than-thou hypocrite for it. I didnt care. Ive always kept my head down, never causing him an ounce of trouble.

But I never expected the first time Id cause trouble, it would be this big.

I physically assaulted his golden girl.

Unsurprisingly, I ran into the people I wanted to avoid. I tried to steer clear, but they wouldn't let me leave. I was just in the small garden trying to catch a breath when Diana and Tiff cornered me.

Diana is Julians childhood sweetheart, the one who moved overseas with her family years ago and only recently returned. Tiff is my arch-nemesis, the kind of person who buys smear pieces and fake headlines just to drag my name through the mud. I had no idea they even knew each other.

I stayed on the bench, not wanting to engage. Tiff was picking at her nails, clearly trying to get a rise out of me. "Its Harrison Montgomerys engagement party tonight, isn't it? Im surprised theyre letting just anyone in these days."

Diana glanced at me, her tone flat. "Is this really all you had to say when you dragged me out here?"

Tiff gave her a sycophantic smile. "Don't be like that, Di. Its suffocating inside. Lets just walk and talk."

Diana didnt argue, leaning against the edge of the fountain.

"Di, are you and Julian planning on an engagement?" Tiff asked.

"Yeah, its pretty much settled," Diana replied.

"Thats amazing. You two are a power couple. Some people really need to learn when to get the hint and exit the stage."

Diana didnt answer. Tiff kept rambling, but I was tuning her out, ready to walk away.

Then, she dropped the line that made me freeze in my tracks.

"Some people are just trash, and their backgrounds are even worse. That construction accident? The one that cost so many people their jobs? Honestly, the project lead losing a leg was just karma."

I didnt even think.

I turned on my heel, marched over, and slapped her across the face. Twice.

Tiff clutched her cheek, eyes wide. "Sam, are you insane?"

I glared at her, voice dripping with ice. "Talking trash behind my back is one thing. But you really thought Id just stand there and take it?"

Diana frowned at me, looking down her nose. "Samantha, this is the Montgomery estate. Have you even thought about the consequences of acting like this?"

My gaze turned lethal. "Diana, if someone were poking fun at your parents tragedies, I hope you would also consider the consequences before opening your mouth."

Diana went silent, but Tiff lunged, grabbing my hair. We went down in a tangled mess.

I dont know how Diana actually jumped in, but by the time Julian and the others arrived, the three of us were brawling on the floor. Julians face was a mask of thunder as he hauled me out of the fray. I was a complete disaster, while Diana looked pristine.

I glared at him, questioning him coldly. "Youre taking her side?"

His jaw tightened. He didnt say a word.

I ripped the diamond ring off my finger and threw it square in his face.

"Were done. Im the one dumping you!"

I didn't wait for a reaction, turning and sprinting toward the exit, diving into the first taxi that pulled up.

Chapter 2

Tears I didn't even know I was holding back finally breached the surface. My chest convulsed, air scraping against my tight throat as a crushing wave of grievance pulled me under. I had wrapped my shoot just yesterday. I flew back completely consumed by how much I missed him.

Instead of a reunion, I got publicly humiliated while he defended the woman tearing me apart.

My phone vibrated against my palm, the screen flashing Julian's name. I answered, refusing to let him speak first. "The South Bay penthouse is in my name. You have exactly one week to get your things out!"

I ended the call before he could pull in a breath. I blocked his number, his socials, everything. That bastard. We were done.

I was probably the first kept woman in history to evict her billionaire benefactor. I had grown entirely too reckless with Julian, especially considering how terrifyingly docile I was when we first met.

My mind drifted back to our first encounter at a wretched industry mixer. My agent had practically shoved me into the room, ordering me to play nice with the high-rolling directors and investors. I grew up in a comfortable home, shielded from this kind of sleaze. But my father's construction firm went under after a catastrophic accident.

He lost a leg, and my parents drained every cent of their life savings to compensate the injured workers.

Drowning in astronomical debt, my family was breaking apart. Desperate to help, I fell for a predatory contract from a talent scout. It yielded zero acting roles, only endless demands to play arm candy at shady banquets. I had no capital to breach the contract.

I faked being sick and played dumb to dodge the worst of it. But that night, I was out of excuses.

I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP room. It was filled with greasy, middle-aged men, but Julian sat at the center of the leather booth, an entirely different breed of predator.

Striking. Cold. Completely out of place. He was already standing up to leave as I walked in.

In a moment of blind panic, I chased after him into the hallway. "Boss, can I follow you?"

He towered over me, his dark eyes dropping to meet mine. "Why? Do I look like the easiest mark in there?"

He looked like the most dangerous man alive, but I swallowed that truth down. I shook my head, answering with naive sincerity. "You're the best looking."

Julian let out a low, mocking scoff. "I know."

I could read the creeping impatience in his posture. Desperation forced another sentence from my lips. "You look like a good guy."

A dry, cynical smile played on his mouth. "Then you have terrible judgment."

He turned and walked away.

Before I could follow, my agent's hand clamped down on my arm, dragging me back into the nightmare.

Inside the private room, they poured liquor down my throat until the room spun. Thomas, a director built like a sweating brick wall, slid his clammy hand high up my thigh. I thrashed wildly, knocking a crystal tumbler off the table. It shattered against the marble floor.

Thomas backhanded me across the face. He spat out vicious curses about my ungratefulness, his meaty fingers tearing at the collar of my dress.

Adrenaline hijacked my system.

I snatched a jagged shard of glass from the floor and drove it straight into his thigh.

Thomas shrieked. I backed against the wall, hyperventilating, convinced my life was over and I was heading straight to prison.

Then, the heavy doors swung open.

Julian stood in the doorway, an absolute void of emotion. His gaze swept the chaotic room. Thomas, who had been screaming like a slaughtered pig, instantly clamped his mouth shut, choking on his own agony. Julian's eyes found me in the corner.

"Didn't you want to come with me?" He didn't raise his voice, but the command sucked all the oxygen from the room. "Come here."

I dropped the bloody glass. I threw myself into his chest, my knees giving out the second I made contact. My entire body shook violently against him. He didn't say a word.

He just wrapped his arm securely around my waist, his solid heat anchoring me, and carried me out of hell.

Julian brought me back to the South Bay penthouse. Hours later, I was still hiding in the master bathroom, skin scrubbed raw from the shower. Through the heavy door, I heard the low cadence of his voice on a phone call. He was cleaning up my mess.

When the apartment fell dead silent, I finally stepped out, clutching a white towel around my trembling body.

He was leaning back against the velvet sofa, entirely relaxed. The top buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, exposing the sharp, tantalizing line of his collarbone. I walked over to him, my pulse roaring in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, gathered every ounce of courage I possessed, and let the towel drop to the floor.

I didn't dare look up.

I heard the rustle of fabric. He stood, picked up the discarded towel, and draped it securely over my bare shoulders. "You're a little young to be playing these kinds of games, don't you think?" His voice was laced with dark amusement.

Heat exploded across my cheeks, my face burning as I stammered over the words. "I I've never done this before. I don't know how this is supposed to work."

His knuckles brushed under my chin, tilting my face up. "Look up. Look at me."

Chapter 3

I gripped the edges of the towel so hard my knuckles turned white. I finally summoned the nerve to look at him.

Julians features were frustratingly calm, but a dark, predatory amusement swam in the depths of his eyes. "You trust me that much? Aren't you afraid I'm more twisted than the men in that room?"

My heart did a violent stutter against my ribs. Panic made me blurt out the first piece of flattery I could scrape together. "No. Good-looking people are always kind."

A low, rough laugh tore from his throat. His hand banded around my waist, yanking me flush against his hard chest. He lowered his head and devoured my mouth.

It was my first kiss. The oxygen evaporated from my brain, leaving me completely lightheaded. The rough pad of his thumb dragged slowly across my swollen bottom lip.

"Go to sleep," his voice was a dark, hypnotic rasp. "Are you brave enough to sleep alone?"

I nodded, completely dazed.

"Hmm?" The dangerous upward tilt of that single syllable sent a shiver down my spine. "Is this how you treat the man keeping you?"

I practically threw my arms around his neck. "No. I need you to hold me."

A smug hum vibrated in his chest. He deposited me into the center of the massive bed, tucking the heavy duvet around me before stepping out to make a call. Thirty minutes later, he slid under the covers, dragging me against his solid heat to sleep.

I spent the next few days obsessively checking the news. There was absolutely nothing about me online. A week later, my agency dissolved my predatory contract. Julian set me up with a top-tier talent firm and a ruthless new manager, Sandra.

As for Thomas? The director who tried to assault me vanished from the industry overnight.

On paper, everything looked flawless. But beneath the surface, it was a total disaster.

Because I was falling deeper and deeper into Julian.

He paid for my life, but my treacherous heart kept treating him like a lover. I couldn't even pinpoint when the lines blurred. Falling in love with Julian Prescott was the easiest, most terrifying thing in the world.

I woke up the next morning to a phone having a seizure. Hundreds of missed calls. Almost all of them came from Sandra. Panic spiked in my chest as I hit call back.

Sandra's roaring voice shattered the morning silence, instantly obliterating my sleep.

"Samantha, thank god. Do you have any idea the internet is literally on fire right now? What the hell did you do last night? Explain. Now."

I was still half-asleep as I pulled the phone away from my ear, switching over to my social feeds. The trending topics were an absolute bloodbath.

[Samantha Assaults Tiffany]

[Cancel Samantha]

[Samantha Leave The Industry]

Someone had recorded my altercation with Tiffany last night. They maliciously edited the clip, cutting out the entire buildup. It showed only a few seconds of me lunging forward and slapping her across the face.

I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing my pounding temples. I gave Sandra the entire rundown. I even included the part where I ended things with Julian. After all, I didn't have a billionaire backing my plays anymore.

The line went dead silent for a long moment. Sandra let out a heavy sigh. "Stay low for the next few days. Do not look at the news. I'll handle this."

After hanging up, I scrutinized the viral video. The camera angle was hidden, incredibly deliberate. It screamed premeditated. They had completely cropped Diana out of the frame, leaving only me and Tiffany.

The comment section was a one-sided slaughter.

[Samantha has always looked like a massive bitch. I can't believe she assaults people now.]

[Rumor has it some sugar daddy funds her. How else did her trash acting get so many roles?]

[Insider tea: she is just a cheap knockoff for some billionaire. The real girl came back, so he kicked her to the curb.]

I stared at those knockoff comments. Tiffany clearly bought bots to steer the narrative again. Honestly? I felt a flat line of nothing.

Let them drag me. It came with the paycheck. As long as they kept my family out of it, I genuinely did not care.

As for the cheap knockoff theory? Total garbage. When Julian and I first got together, he treated me flawlessly. But was all that terrifyingly perfect treatment just because I looked like someone else?

Chapter 4

I remembered a time he picked me up from an industry dinner. Liquid courage buzzing in my veins, I asked him if I was just a lookalike for someone from his past.

He pulled me flush against his chest and flicked my forehead. "Addicted to the drama, are we? A stand-in? I don't play those pathetic games."

I pushed my luck, asking if there was anyone else right now. He let out a dry scoff. "Do I look like I have that kind of free time?"

That single sentence kept me floating for months. Maybe Julian did not love me with some grand, earth-shattering passion. Maybe I was just a convenient habit he was too lazy to break. It did not matter.

While we were together, there was no third person.

I can survive not being loved. I can survive not being his first choice. But I absolutely refuse to be stripped of my last shred of dignity.

Thanks to the sudden PR nightmare, my upcoming reality show appearance was immediately axed. I spent every waking hour locked in my hotel room, legitimately terrified of unhinged stalkers. Two years ago, I played a beautifully psychotic villain. I bled into that role so perfectly that netizens swore I was not even acting.

But I never expected people to blur the lines between a fictional character and the actress playing her.

While I was on crutches recovering from an on-set injury, a deranged hater literally hurled a live hornet's nest at me, trying to destroy my face. Thank god Julian arrived when he did. He ripped off his bespoke suit jacket, set the fabric on fire, and used the flames to beat the swarm back.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars, reduced to ashes on the pavement without him blinking an eye.

I shook my head hard, trying to dislodge the memory. Why was my brain constantly circling back to him? I snatched up my phone, scrolling through my notifications. It was an endless wall of encouragement and sympathy from industry friends.

Nothing from Julian.

Then the reality crashed over me.

I had blocked his number and wiped him from all my socials. I tossed the phone onto the mattress, furious with my own hypocrisy. He was a billionaire with limitless resources. If he actually wanted to find me, a block button would not stop him.

He just did not care enough to try.

Sitting by the window, I felt incredibly pathetic. I knew it was over, but my treacherous subconscious still clung to this toxic sliver of hope. I always felt like, deep down, he had to care about me at least a fraction as much as I cared for him. After all, he was the man who once crossed the city in the middle of a blizzard just to hold me.

It was our first New Year's together. My shooting schedule was brutally packed, so I could not fly home to my parents. I stayed alone at the South Bay penthouse. I was drifting in and out of sleep on New Year's Eve when the metallic click of the front door unlocking jolted me awake.

Panic seized my throat. I grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the nightstand and crept out into the hallway.

Julian was standing in the foyer, fresh snow melting across his broad shoulders. He looked at the makeshift weapon in my hands, a slow, dangerous smirk curving his lips. "Is this how you greet me for the holidays?"

I dropped the lamp and launched myself into his arms. I wanted to ask why he had come all this way, but I knew he hated sentimental probing.

So I swallowed the question, replacing it with a flirtatious murmur. "How is it that the exact second I start missing you, you appear?"

His large hands gripped my thighs, hoisting me up as he carried me straight toward the bedroom. "Let's see exactly how much you missed me," his voice was a dark, gravelly rasp against my ear.

The winter storm raged outside the glass, but the bedroom was suffocatingly hot. By the time he stepped out of the shower, my muscles were completely liquefied into the mattress. I was fading into sleep when I felt his hand slide a thick red envelope under my pillow. His lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my damp forehead.

"Happy New Year, Sam."

It was my first holiday away from my family, but wrapped in his heat, I was not lonely for a single second.

I survived three days in that hotel isolation. I was just about to mask up and run out for basic supplies when a barrage of texts from Sandra stopped me dead. The footage of me slapping Tiffany had not just refused to die down. A massive new scandal had just detonated.

Thomas.

The sleazy director I had stabbed years ago just crawled out of the woodwork to bury me. He posted a public statement claiming I had tried to seduce him for a role, and when he rejected me, I hooked a bigger billionaire fish. He was too cowardly to name Julian, but he played the ultimate victim. He claimed he had been systematically blacklisted and silenced for years, dumping a pile of heavily manipulated evidence onto the internet.

Chapter 5

Sandra was completely out of her depth. A scandal of this magnitude was impossible for her to suppress alone.

"Sam, you have to call him. Can't you just swallow your pride and contact Mr. Prescott? This is literally a snap of his fingers. He could make this disappear."

The line went silent. A sharp, stinging pressure clamped down on the bridge of my nose. My throat tightened so fast it physically ached. In the past, rumors like this were suffocated before they even caught a spark.

Now, the fire was consuming everything in its path.

"He won't help me anymore," my voice was a hollow rasp. "He's getting married. Me ending things is exactly what he wants."

Sandra let out a heavy, defeated sigh. "If we can't spin this, you aren't going to see a script for a very long time."

"It's fine, Sandy. I'll post a statement. They can believe whatever they want. I'm done twisting myself into knots trying to prove my innocence."

"Thank you for everything these past few years. I'm sorry I dragged you down."

Sandra offered a few more hollow words of comfort, promising to find a way out. We both knew it was a lie.

I opened the trending feeds. The timeline was a complete bloodbath.

[How is this toxic trash not canceled yet? Disgusting.]

[We all knew she had a sugar daddy. Her acting is a joke.]

[Looks like the billionaire finally got bored of his toy.]

[Who is the blind idiot funding her anyway?]

[Heard the guy's childhood sweetheart came back. Is Samantha the side piece?]

[Her dad is a scam contractor. The apple does not fall far.]

A few brave souls tried to defend me, but they were instantly drowned in the tidal wave of hate. I opened my socials and started typing.

[This is Samantha. I apologize for taking up public bandwidth, but I want the truth on the record.]

[First, there was absolutely no seduction with Thomas. When I entered the industry, I was naive and forced into a predatory contract. My agency forced me into escorting at dinners. Thomas tried to assault me.]

[I stabbed his leg with a glass shard in pure self-defense, fully prepared to go to prison. That is the only reason I escaped.]

[When he realized he could not touch me, he targeted other rookies. I do not know how many victims there are, but I personally pulled two girls out of his grasp. I am not saying this for sympathy. I just want you to know exactly what kind of predator he is.]

[To the girls I helped: do not speak up. You do not need to relive your trauma for my sake.]

[Second, aim your absolute worst at me. Leave my family out of this. They have not done anything to you. If you keep crossing that line, I genuinely pray the universe hands that karma right back to you.]

[Finally, I was never a homewrecker. I was never a stand-in. And as of right now, I am completely single.]

[Thanks for reading.]

I hit post and immediately powered down my phone. I curled my knees to my chest on the bay window. I had not physically moved all day, but my bones felt entirely crushed.

I slipped into a restless sleep. The dreams pulled me straight back into the past. My career had just started catching fire. A supporting movie role had blown up, earning me genuine critical praise.

Sandra capitalized on the momentum, booking me back-to-back variety shows and brand campaigns.

Then, at an investor dinner, I ran into a ghost. Thomas. He had rebranded. He dropped the director title, became a producer, and even changed his name.

I was walking past a private dining room when the heavy mahogany door slammed open. A young girl stumbled out, her dress torn, her makeup smeared across her terrified face. I grabbed her and shoved her behind my back. I pulled out my phone, hitting record with the camera aimed straight at the doorway.

She sobbed, her voice breaking as she told me there was another girl still inside.

I marched in and dragged them both out. Thomas just stood there, his face twisted in rage. He knew Julian Prescott was backing me. He did not dare lay a single finger on me.

Chapter 6

I knew interfering might drag Julian into a mess. If he refused to back me, I would be the one going down. But in that split second, I did not have the luxury of overthinking. If I had not seen it, I could have walked away.

But ignoring it? The guilt would have gnawed at me for the rest of my life.

The two girls vanished from the industry after that. No news, just gone. Later, I confessed the whole thing to Julian. I braced myself for a brutal lecture.

Instead, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He told me my temper was finally developing some teeth. He only gave me one warning: never play hero alone. A cornered animal bites the hardest.

I had been terrified in the aftermath, but a strange, quiet backbone had started to form inside me. And that backbone came entirely from Julian.

When I first started out, I was a nobody. My relationship with Julian was a tightly guarded secret. Getting pushed around on set by veteran crew members was just my daily routine. I kept my head down.

I figured a few harsh words would not kill me. Until Julian visited my set.

He overheard a production assistant trashing me. He dragged the guy over and ordered me to curse him out right there. I was mortified, unable to string a single sentence together. Julian fed me the first line.

I echoed it. Then the next. By the end, I was screaming at the guy with so much venom Julian actually had to grab my waist and haul me away.

He looked down at me that day, his eyes dancing with dark amusement. "You're going to swallow all that anger until it gives you a tumor? I can't be here to watch your back every second."

"If someone steps on you, you step back harder. If you can't, you come to me. I don't even let you suffer. Why the hell are you letting strangers treat you like trash?"

The sunlight had caught in his eyes that afternoon, making them impossibly bright. Something inside my chest cracked wide open.

All the love I had been trying to suppress just poured right through the fracture.

My phone vibrating violently against the mattress yanked me out of the memory. I blinked, the room blurry. The pillowcase beneath my cheek was soaked cold. I scrubbed the tears off my face and accepted the call.

Sandy's voice exploded through the speaker, vibrating with an unhinged level of excitement. "Did you completely misunderstand your relationship with Julian