I Understand His Regret, So I Replaced Him Too Chapter 05

I Understand His Regret, So I Replaced Him Too Chapter 05

That night, I went to a bar for the first time in ages.

I hated places like that. Too loud.

But sometimes, I wanted to drown in that noise.

I picked a new spot. When I sat down, the host asked how many.

“Just me.”

“We’re sharp, good at reading people. Would you like me to send someone over to keep you

company? Liven things up a bit?”

I scanned the room. My eyes landed on a corner.

The host followed my gaze. “Oh, he’s our highest-earning host. Super popular with the guests. If

you want him, it’ll cost a little extra.”

I watched Tristan sitting between two middle-aged women. Smiling. Downing drink after drink.

“Money’s not a problem,” I said. “Send him over.”

“You got it.”

I didn’t wait long.

Tristan walked over with his brightest professional smile.. “Hey, thanks for…”

He saw my face. Stopped.

“Long time no see,” I said, I looked him up and down, making no effort to hide my scrutiny. “Who

put this outfit together? It’s so tacky.”

A flash of humiliation crossed his eyes. But the smile stayed. “I saw it online. They said… older

women like this style.”

“Sit.” I tilted my chin toward the empty seat. “So this is your big money-making plan? Bartending?”

That’s the polite way to put it.

The real word was something closer to male escort.

Tristan didn’t answer.

“You have enough for the surgery yet?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “Almost. Not quite there yet.”

“How much more?”

“A hundred thousand.”

“When’s the surgery?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You need a hundred grand in two days. You planning to sell yourself to make

a hundred grand in two days? The trade isn’t exactly easy money these days.”

It was a joke.

He didn’t deny it.

“Not an easy market these days. A hundred grand’s not cheap. You find some rich sugar momma?”

He pointed at the booth he’d just come from. “It’s all settled. They’re splitting the cost.”

I choked on my drink.

Tristan reached out to pat my back, then pulled his hand back.

Up close, I caught the scent of heavy, cheap cosmetics on him – tacky synthetic fragrance. I hated

I preferred the scent of soap from the first day we met.

It was clean and fresh, and it reminded me of Sullivan when he was young.

“You ever done this before?” I asked.

He gave a small “mm.”

I pulled out my phone, tapped a few times, and held the screen up.

It showed our chat history. A transfer of a hundred thousand dollars.

“You’re young, and you go to a top university. You have so much potential ahead of you.”

“Don’t do this again. I need a personal assistant. Come work for me.”