What Happened to the Girl Who Was Kept by Someone at a Young Age? Chapter 1

I'm Lucy, 23 years old. A few days ago, I told Mr. Thompson, "Let's break up."

When I said "break up," I felt unsure because I knew I wasn't really his "girlfriend."

My "ex" Mr. Thompson is thirty-one years older than me. He has a family abroad, but during our three years together, I never felt mistreated.

On my 23rd birthday, Mr. Thompson couldn't accompany me. He sent me a generous cash gift. He left a voice message saying he'd be home at 10 PM.

That meant I needed to be at his villa before then, showered, dressed, and ready to do whatever he liked.

But that night, I was distracted.

He noticed and asked if something was bothering me.

I nodded and said, "I want to get married."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded again and said we should break up.

He fell silent. I knew he was angry. In the past, I would have cuddled up to him, softly saying, "Don't be mad."

But this time, I didn't.

He stood up in his robe, poured half a glass of whiskey, and downed it in one gulp.

"What do you have without me?" he asked, his voice soft but authoritative.

It's true. Without Mr. Thompson, I wouldn't be where I am today.

I'm from a single-parent family. Coming to this big city for a second-tier college was the best my mother could do for me. The day she sent me off to school was her first time riding the subway, her first time seeing skyscrapers.

She said it was wonderful, that I should put down roots here and bring her over someday.

I loved this place too. The luxury cars, the stores with handbags worth thousands, the haute cuisine and French restaurants you only see in movies, the wealthiest people in the country.

But I couldn't stay.

Graduates from my college earned only about $500 a month, but the cheapest apartment here cost over $500 per square foot.

Later, while working part-time at a bar, I met Mr. Thompson.

He wore a Richard Mille watch. He was older but well-groomed, with a tailored suit and a fit physique. Even after drinking, he remained gentle and reserved.

He was my perfect target.

I sent Cindy, the bar manager, a big tip and told her if table 37 asked for company, it had to be me.

That night, I sat next to Mr. Thompson but spent the whole time chatting and drinking with another client.

This was Cindy's strategy. She said if you want to attract someone, turn your back to them, make them want you.

"The person you're entertaining isn't the one you're after. Get the one you're with drunk, then wait in the alley by the parking lot exit. Don't wear a coat, the colder the better. Wait for the one you want to offer you a ride."

That night, it drizzled. I waited from 1 AM until 3 AM, finally seeing Mr. Thompson's car.

Later, he told me he knew I was waiting for him.

He saw through everything.

He said he didn't like girls with such obvious intentions. But when it started raining and he saw I hadn't left, he softened.

I was barely 20 then, my first time riding in a Maserati, my first time staying in a villa.

Mr. Thompson gave me a card with unlimited spending and a $25,000 monthly cash withdrawal limit. I calculated that if I maxed it out every month, in just over two years, I could buy a small two-bedroom apartment in this city and bring my mom over.

But I wouldn't do that. I couldn't be so presumptuous.

From then on, I accompanied Mr. Thompson on business trips, vacations, and cocktail parties. Sometimes I wouldn't return to school for weeks at a time.

Last year, I officially dropped out. The administrator who stamped my papers looked me up and down, her gaze so sharp I felt like my expensive clothes were stripped away in an instant.

She smirked, saying, "I guess you don't need this degree anymore."

I thought if I was careful, this life could continue. There was nothing bad about being with Mr. Thompson. I could treat him like my "boyfriend" and enjoy this "romance."

I was lost in this fantasy until two weeks ago when Mr. Thompson found a new flame.

A girl even younger than me.

The housekeeper told me this. He showed me her photo - taller than me, with a face like a minor, a small-time celebrity.

The housekeeper said, "Mr. Thompson started a film company this year. There will be plenty of girls like her from now on."

"I see."

"Also, Mr. Thompson is going abroad for about a week. He's not taking you this time." As he said this, his tone became increasingly mocking. "You can still stay here during that time."

That night, lying alone in Mr. Thompson's master bedroom, I couldn't sleep.

Of course, Mr. Thompson wasn't my "boyfriend."

Mr. Thompson was my sugar daddy.

We had an employer-employee relationship. He could hire another, hire many more, or fire me at any time without reason.

I went into the bathroom, turned the shower on full blast, and started crying.

It was then that I understood Cindy's words.

"For people like us, 23 is a turning point."

I'm 23 this year.

"College graduates are 23. After 23, you're not standard anymore. No matter how well you take care of yourself, no matter how carefree you act, you lose that quality. Age can't be fooled."

"But the bosses always like them young."

[Cutoff point]

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