My Billionaire Paid Me to Be His First Love’s Replacement

Billionaire heir Ethan Cole offers to keep me because I look exactly like the first love he never got over. What he doesn’t know is that my mother raised me on billionaire romances, so I know exactly how this story goes. The other replacement girls cry and fall in love; I’ve always wondered why none of them just send the billionaire a bill. - My mother has listened to billionaire romance novels for as long as I can remember. Whenever some arrogant CEO spends three hundred chapters destroying his marriage and finally starts begging for his wife back, Mom cries. I calculate the divorce settlement. Whenever the heroine discovers she only got the ring because she looks like his first love, Mom gets furious on her behalf. I have one question. Why doesn’t she charge him? Unfortunately, I’ve never had the chance to test my theory. According to my friends, I have the kind of face that keeps men at a safe distance. So my dream of becoming a shameless gold digger remains tragically unfulfilled. Until my college graduation mixer. I’m sitting at the bar when a group of men in tailored suits starts staring at me. One of them nearly drops his drink. “Holy shit. She looks exactly like Vanessa.” Another looks me over. “That’s actually creepy.” The best-looking man in the group walks toward me. Tall. Expensive suit. The kind of confidence that only comes from never having to check a price tag. He stops beside my stool. “You look a lot like someone I used to want.” Used to want? Interesting. He studies my face for another few seconds. “If you stay with me, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” There it is. The replacement plot. Finally. I pull out my phone. “Great. Wire me a hundred thousand.” His expression goes blank. I continue. “That’s the confidentiality fee. Replacement fee, emotional inconvenience, and reputational risk are separate.” The man stares at me. I hold up my phone. “If you don’t like the terms, I can always send what you just said to Vanessa.” Silence. Then one of his friends bursts out laughing. “Jesus. She’s a gold digger.” “What a waste.” “Ethan, forget her. Let’s go.” So his name is Ethan. Good to know. They try to pull him away, but Ethan doesn’t move. The interest in his eyes cools into open disgust. “Vanessa really is one of a kind.” I take another sip of my drink. “Please don’t start.” His brow furrows. “No matter how much you look like her, you’ll never have the kind of heart she has.” I raise a hand. “If you want to perform a tragic billionaire monologue, do it somewhere else. I’m not getting paid enough to listen.” One of his friends steps forward. “You bitch.” He lifts a hand toward me. Ethan catches his wrist before it reaches my face. “Enough.” The man swears, but Ethan is still watching me. “A hundred thousand?” “Confidentiality only.” His jaw tightens. “What do you want for the rest?” I hold up five fingers. “Five hundred thousand?” “On top of the first hundred.” His friends explode. “You cannot be serious.” “She’s extorting you!” “She only has Vanessa’s face. That’s it.” I look past Ethan. “Keep talking and I’ll raise the price.” They actually shut up. I smile. “If you’re this upset about my face, take a picture to a plastic surgeon and ask what it would cost to get one like it.” One of them looks ready to argue. Ethan cuts him off. “Leave.” “Ethan—” “Now.” They go. Ethan looks back at me. For ten long seconds, neither of us says anything. Then he pulls out his phone. “Fine.” A few minutes later, my banking app lights up. $600,000. I nearly laugh out loud. Six hundred thousand dollars. I can clear my entire shopping cart, pay off Mom’s mortgage, and still get her the diamond bracelet she’s been pretending she doesn’t want. Ethan gives me a business card. “I’ll contact you when I need you.” I glance at it. “Okay.” “Do not contact me unless I contact you first.” I drop the card onto the bar. “Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons work for me.” His face darkens. “I didn’t ask.” “You’re getting my schedule anyway.” I pick up my purse. “Weekends cost extra. Federal holidays are triple.” “Claire.” I pause. So he saw my name on the transfer. “What?” His jaw flexes. “Nothing.” “Great.” I walk out. On the ride home, I text Mom. Mom, I got an amazing consulting gig. Only three days a week. The pay is unbelievable.

At exactly nine Monday morning, my doorbell rings. Ethan stands outside in a charcoal suit, two assistants behind him. He holds out a garment bag. “Change.” I unzip it enough to see a designer dress. “Where are we going?” “You’ll find out.” I lean against the doorframe. “Off-site work wasn’t included in our arrangement.” “Ten times your normal rate.” Now we’re talking. “Confidential destination?” “Yes.” “That requires a separate NDA.” One of his assistants looks at the floor. I pull out my phone. “Ten-thousand-dollar deposit.” Ethan stares at me. I wait. His phone comes out. My account pings. “Can we leave now?” “Absolutely.” The car stops outside Cole Holdings in Midtown Manhattan. Ethan takes me straight upstairs. The conference room is already full. Executives sit around a long table while a presentation glows on the wall. Ethan points to a chair in the corner. “Sit there. Listen. Don’t speak.” I look up at him. “Silence wasn’t included either.” “Claire.” “Fine. First hour’s free.” He walks away. The meeting starts. Cole Holdings is preparing to acquire Sinclair Development, a smaller company tied to a major redevelopment project. Executives argue over valuation, debt, construction costs, and how much pressure they can put on Sinclair before making an offer. I stop listening after ten minutes. Then the finance director flips past a slide. “Go back.” Nobody moves. I raise my hand. The room goes quiet. Ethan slowly turns toward me. “What?” “The previous slide.” His face hardens. “Claire.” “Third-quarter cash flow and fixed-asset changes don’t reconcile.” The finance director gives me a tight smile. “Miss Bennett, you may not understand what you’re looking at.” I stand. “I majored in finance.” His smile disappears. I walk to the screen and pick up the laser pointer. “This increase doesn’t match the reported construction-in-progress balance.” I move the pointer lower. “And these consulting expenses rise at exactly the same time as the capital spending.” The finance director shifts in his chair. I look at him. “That’s not normal.” He says nothing. “If these figures are accurate, someone is moving money through project costs.” The room goes silent. Ethan looks at the screen, then at the finance director. “Continue.” I turn toward him. “Commercial consulting costs extra.” Several executives stare at me. Ethan closes his eyes for half a second. “How much?” “Per minute?” “Yes.” I name my price. “Fine.” Now I smile. For the next ten minutes, I point out three separate inconsistencies. By the time I finish, the finance director is sweating through his collar. “My preliminary estimate?” I tap the screen. “At least eight million.” Nobody speaks. Ethan turns to one of his assistants. “Take Mr. Harris somewhere private.” The finance director shoots to his feet. “Mr. Cole, I can explain—” “You’ll have plenty of time.” Two people escort him out. After the meeting, Ethan takes me to his office. The door shuts behind us. “How did you catch that so quickly?” “Basic analysis.” “You graduated last week.” “And somehow I still learned to read a balance sheet.” He studies me. “You’re more interesting than I expected.” “Compliments are free.” He steps closer. I step back. “Standing that close isn’t.” His mouth tightens. Before he can answer, the office door flies open. A woman rushes inside. She stops the second she sees me. I stop too. For one strange moment, it feels like I’m looking into a mirror. Same eyes. Same face shape. Same mouth. Only her hair and styling are different. So this is Vanessa. She looks at Ethan. Then at me. Her eyes immediately turn red. “Ethan.” Ethan steps away from me so quickly it’s almost funny. A second ago, he was standing close enough to kiss me. Now there’s a full step of distance between us. “Vanessa. What are you doing here?” “What am I doing here?” She points at me. “You brought her to your office?” “Vanessa—” “And you removed Mr. Harris because of her? He works for my father.” That catches my attention. Sinclair Development. So that’s the connection. Vanessa looks back at me. “I saw her downstairs.” Her voice shakes just enough to sound hurt instead of angry. “She was taking pictures of the lobby security setup.” I go still. I did take pictures downstairs. Vanessa turns to Ethan. “She could be gathering information on your building.” Ethan’s eyes lock onto mine. “Explain.” The corner of Vanessa’s mouth lifts. Just slightly. I pull out my phone. “Sure.” “But accusing me of corporate espionage is serious.” I unlock my screen. “My defamation fee is one million dollars.”

Ethan stares at me. “One million.” “Correct.” “For an explanation.” “For publicly implying I’m a corporate spy.” Vanessa steps closer. “Ethan, don’t pay her.” He doesn’t even look at her. “Send it.” His assistant hesitates. Ethan turns. “Now.” A moment later, my phone pings. I open my camera roll. Three photos fill the screen. One wide shot and two close-ups. All of the giant chandelier hanging in the Cole Holdings lobby. I turn the phone toward them. “My mother is redecorating her dining room.” I swipe to the next picture. “She likes dramatic lighting.” Vanessa’s face goes white. I look at Ethan. “Should I delete these before national security gets involved?” His eyes move to Vanessa. “Apologize.” She stiffens. “What?” “You accused her without proof.” “Ethan, I was only worried about you.” “Apologize.” Her lips part. For the first time since she walked in, the hurt look slips. Something much colder flashes underneath. “I’m sorry.” I pull up the voice recorder. “Again.” She stares at me. “What?” “I wasn’t recording.” Her eyes widen. I press the red button. “Go ahead.” “You cannot be serious.” “Next false accusation costs double, so I recommend getting this one right.” Vanessa looks at Ethan. He says nothing. Her face burns red. “I’m sorry.” “Perfect.” I save the file. Vanessa grabs her purse and storms out. The door slams behind her. Silence. Then Ethan turns toward me. “What?” I ask. “Who are you?” “Your most expensive bad decision.” He walks toward me. I take one step back and my shoulders hit the window. “I thought you were just after money.” “I am.” “That’s not what I mean.” “Then ask a better question.” His gaze drops to my mouth. Then he leans in. I turn my head. His lips brush my cheek instead. “Kissing costs extra.” He stops. For a second, neither of us moves. Then he gives a short, disbelieving laugh. “How much?” “Ten thousand.” “Per kiss?” “Now you’re learning.” His hand settles at my waist. “And this?” “Five.” His fingers tighten. “This?” “Ten.” His expression darkens. By the time we leave his office, he has spent more money touching me than most people spend on a car. I consider the afternoon productive. Later that week, Ethan comes to my apartment. The first kiss costs him ten thousand. By the time we make it to my bedroom, he has stopped asking what everything costs and started paying whatever number I give him. I discover two things that night. Ethan is very good in bed. Worse, he knows exactly how good he is. When I make the mistake of letting him hear how much I’m enjoying myself, the smug look on his face makes me want to raise the price out of spite. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.” “You’re the one smiling.” “I’m thinking about the money.” “Liar.” He shifts me beneath him. I catch his shoulder. “New position. Ten thousand.” Ethan actually stops. “You’re charging me now?” “Especially now.” He stares at me for a second, reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and sends the money. “Happy?” “Very.” By the time we finally stop, both of us are breathing too hard to pretend the sex wasn’t good. That still doesn’t make it romantic. He wants Vanessa’s face. I want his money. The fact that we both enjoy everything in between is just a bonus. “This is an arrangement, Ethan. You want someone who looks like Vanessa. I want your money.” “At least you admit it.” “I admitted it the first night.” He goes quiet. Later, Ethan lies beside me with one arm thrown across my waist. Neither of us has bothered getting dressed. Then, out of nowhere, he says, “Vanessa is getting married.” I turn my head. Seriously? We just had sex, and now he wants to talk about her? “Good for her.” His jaw tightens. “That’s it?” “What else do you want me to say?” He looks away. “Her family needs the Mercer family.” I understand immediately. “A business marriage.” He says nothing. “So she chose them over you.” His face gives me the answer. I lean back against the headboard. “And that’s why you found me.” Still nothing. “You wanted someone with her face while she married somebody else.” His eyes snap back to mine. I shrug. “Honestly? That’s sad.” “You think this is funny?” “No.” I look at him. “I think it’s expensive.” His mouth twitches despite himself. “You make everything sound cheap.” “I make everything sound accurately priced.” He reaches for me again. I put a hand against his chest. He looks down. “What now?” “Post-date emotional support is a separate service.” For the first time since we met, Ethan actually smiles. Then he catches my chin between his fingers. “Claire.” “What?” “You’d better always be this sharp.” I smile back. “As long as you keep paying.”