Toward the weekend, Victoria told him she’d be working overtime, so they wouldn’t be able to meet. He looked at her for a long time, regret rising within him. Then he began remembering other times like this. Situations he hadn’t paid much attention to before. Could it really be true?
“Does the factory even work weekends, sweetheart?” Robert asked, trying to sound casual, though there was frustration in his voice.
Victoria was fixing her hair at the mirror. At his words, she turned and approached him, gently cupping his face in her hands.
“Honey, when there are orders, they run three shifts, no weekends.”
He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. Work, then—just work.
He waited for the weekend with both dread and anticipation. He couldn’t imagine how he’d survive the disappointment. Robert was on the edge of serious feelings—or maybe his heart had already been set ablaze. He still hadn’t confirmed anything, but he was already wracked with jealousy. Part of him wanted to delete that app from her phone and just live in blissful ignorance. But he sat there, doing nothing.
Saturday came. Around midnight, Robert called her. The phone was off.
With shaking hands, he opened the hidden folder with the tracker, waited out a torturous minute—and pressed “Locate.”
The app loaded, then displayed her current location. Robert slammed his phone to the floor with all his strength and let out a roar.
At ten in the evening, on a Saturday, Victoria sat in the restaurant of a hotel, where she was to spend the night with her sugar daddy. They were having dinner. She looked stunning in a red evening dress with a plunging neckline and a slit that reached mid-thigh.
Her fiery hair cascaded over one shoulder in soft waves. Her lips gleamed with scarlet lipstick. Victoria planned to bring up her long-held wish of opening a beauty salon and had carefully prepared for the meeting. Though he had promised it long ago, she wanted to speed things up. She had taken an aggressive stance. Her benefactor was a high-ranking official—close to sixty years old—named Anton Semyonovich. He held a position in local government and carried significant influence, even within criminal circles. Despite their intimacy, Victoria feared him. One look from those icy blue eyes could instill terror. And in private, he didn’t hesitate to use brute force—it thrilled him and infuriated her. She would’ve ended things long ago, even the occasional meetings he invited her to, but the man wouldn’t let go.
At this particular dinner, everything about Anton Semyonovich’s behavior said one thing—don’t even think about leaving me. The way he carried himself made it clear who was in control. Yet at the same time, he never openly showed possessiveness. He allowed his young mistress her freedom and didn’t demand much—just respect. Maybe because Victoria was skilled at playing the role of the sweet, innocent girl in love. In truth, what guided her was caution and a tough life experience. She acted carefully, always avoiding missteps. She had mastered the art of seduction and manipulation. She had a dozen masks in her arsenal, allowing her to wriggle out of almost any situation. Even a clever, seasoned man like Anton Semyonovich trusted her completely. They had agreed that after her internship ended, she’d move out of the dorm and into her own apartment, managing a small business he’d set up for her. She wanted that more than anything.
