Page 32 of His Little Secret in Discretion
Felix was all charm on the surface—expensive suits, empty promises, a smile that could talk you into anything. He saw me drowning and dangled himself like a lifeline, knowing damn well he was the one tightening the rope.
He made it seem like we were in some sort of relationship, but I knew better. I was a means to an end. A body. A buffer between him and the debt he was bleeding out of my uncle.
He pushed because he knew my situation. He dangled promises of security, intimacy, affection… all of it leverage. And I was desperate enough to take the bait.
That was the start of two years that felt like slow suffocation. When he wasn’t in someone else’s bed, he was reminding me that I owed him, that my uncle’s mistakes made me his property. He acted offended anytime I benefited financially as if accepting the smallest luxury from him was proof I was a gold digger, while he was the one who held the leash.
He cheated. He belittled. He reminded me constantly that without him, I had nothing. And when he finally tossed me aside, he still made sure I couldn’t get a decent job, kept just enough control to remind me who had once owned me.
"Believe it or not, Mr. Porter, there are other billionaires who are just as charming as you are."
My mind drifted to what I had said to Blaine around when we were establishing our dynamic. Felix was like that at first—until the façade cracked, and all that was left was betrayal, abuse, and the reminder that every promise he’d made me had been a lie.
My uncle, still in treatment for his compulsive gambling, had been so stressed about what Felix was doing to me that he convinced himself the only way to help was to relapse. To gamble again. To scrape together quick cash the only way heknew how. I searched for him for two days before I finally found him, strung out and broken, convinced he’d ruined everything. That was the moment he decided to quit for good and commit fully to rehab.
Felix Drummond was and still is a sick, twisted man. He tossed me aside when he was done with me but kept a leash tight enough to remind me he still had control. Over my uncle, over me, over our lives.
Well… not anymore.
I knocked on my uncle’s bedroom door. He glanced up, smiling as he stood. “Maia, sweetheart, it’s good to see you. Finally coming back to visit your old man?”
I wrapped him in a hug, his scent pulling me back to childhood. He led me toward his sitting area, and I settled beside him.
“Thought I’d stop by. Looks like you’re doing well,” I said gently.
He sighed as we sat, his shoulders heavy.
“I’m trying. They say I should be out in a few more months, but I don’t know if I’m ready yet.” He rubbed his temples, and I reached for his free hand. He hated this part, being reminded that I was the one providing now, that the roles had flipped and he couldn’t take care of me the way he used to.
“You take as much time as you need. You know I’ll always be here for you,” I promised softly.
He nodded, then studied me with those sharp, weary eyes. “So tell me… what’s been keeping you busy these days? You don’t look as tired. Have your jobs been treating you well?”
Has my job been treating me well? Well, my boss tried to force me into stripping, I walked out, and now I’m a sugar baby to a cocky, childish billionaire. That about covers it.But all I did was nod, smoothing my hand over my bag.
His gaze followed the movement. “What’s in your bag?”
My chest tightened. Slowly, I unzipped it and turned it toward him. His eyes went wide.
“It’s the answer to our problem,” I said.
He groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Maia. How the hell did you get that kind of money…?” His voice dropped, almost afraid of the answer.
“I know a guy,” I muttered.
He leaned back, shaking his head. “I knew a guy too. He made me six hundred thousand dollars deep because he believed in my ‘gambling dream.’ Then he taunted me for years by sleeping with my niece as repayment.”
I smacked his shoulder, scowling. “Uncle Wes.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender, smirking despite himself. “What? I’m not wrong.”
God, his filter. I only rolled my eyes. “For the record, we were in a relationship. And the guy helping us out now isn’t going to turn around and make us suffer.”
He arched a brow. “How can you be so sure?”
I swallowed, shaking my head. “I just know, okay?”
He studied me for a long beat, the doubt in his eyes cutting deeper than his words. Finally, his gaze drifted back to the bag. Eyes closing, his shoulders sagged, defeated.
