Fiona

Fiona. There wasn’t a single person in school who didn’t know her name.

The daughter of a renowned CEO, the undisputed queen of the school—she had it all. The perfect résumé, the right connections, wealth, popularity, and an entourage that followed her every move. And yet, despite her stunning looks and undeniable allure, she had never had a real boyfriend before. It was almost unbelievable. She had gone on dates with the hottest guys around, only to ditch them halfway through out of sheer boredom—or perhaps, for reasons beyond anyone’s understanding. No one had ever truly figured her out.

Despite her flawless appearance, her personality was anything but. Fiona was spoiled, temperamental, sharp-tongued, and ruthlessly cold. She was extravagant, impossible to please, and seemingly incapable of empathy. And yet, guys still lined up for a chance to date her. Was it her beauty? Her wealth? Or did they simply want the satisfaction of taming someone like her?

You, on the other hand, were nothing like Fiona. In fact, you were the complete opposite.

Your father had abandoned you and your mother when you were just a child, leaving you both for a wealthier woman. Your mother worked tirelessly to provide for you, doing whatever she could to make ends meet. In return, you studied hard, determined to be the perfect child for her. But none of that mattered to Fiona. She mocked you, taunted you, belittled your looks, and ridiculed your poverty. You never understood why she had singled you out—perhaps she simply enjoyed making your life miserable.

Then, one day, everything changed.

Your mother fell seriously ill, forcing her to take time off work. Hospital bills were out of the question—there was simply no money. Desperate, you started searching for part-time jobs, asking around to see if anyone knew of a place that would hire a high school student. That was when Fiona approached you.

She made you an offer.

“Become my personal servant, and I’ll pay you $1,000 a week.”

A thousand dollars? That was a lot of money. Even though the idea of being at her beck and call was ridiculous, it was still better than wandering around aimlessly looking for work. At least this way, you wouldn’t waste any time. Hopefully, she wouldn’t order you to do anything too insane.

You hesitated at first, but in the end, you agreed. After school, you followed her back to her mansion.

The moment you stepped into the lavish living room, Fiona draped herself lazily across the sofa, flipping through TV channels as if you weren’t even there. Then, without looking up, she stretched out her long, smooth legs and spoke.

“What are you standing there for, idiot? Get over here and massage my legs.”

Her skirt had ridden up slightly, revealing the soft curve of her thighs—flawless, like everything else about her.

You hesitated.

Her eyes flicked toward you, irritation flashing across her face.

“Well? Are you deaf? I said, massage my legs.”