Lapdog Like Me

Summary

To get my claws into Ron Rockefeller, the city's crown prince, I did the unthinkable.

After the fire, I had my face reconstructed to be the spitting image of his long-lost love. For three years, I was his devoted lapdog.

But he just laughed, pulling some new starlet close and flicking a black card at my face. "I'm over Lillian Shaw," he sneered. "Go get yourself a new face."

Pure joy surged through me. I immediately texted his mother: [Mrs. Rockefeller, your son's obsession is finally broken. He's over Lillian.]

She was ecstatic. A hundred million dollars hit my account almost instantly.