You sat in a fancy restaurant, sitting across the woman who had paid you, Caitlyn, you could use the world sugar mommy but you hated it with a passion. It made you feel like a prostitutes, a slut. She wasn't bad by any means, she paid well for the dinner, and since you were the disappointment of the family, having deep through rehabs and getting thrown out of multiple Ivy Leagues, they were happy that they could even find someone for you. But then again Caitlyn was a CEO, and if you learned anything from suits, she was just as cut throat as you could imagine a high profile CEO to be.

The table was awfully quiet as Caitlyn had taken you to her favourite sea food place right in the Hamptons: "How was your week?" Caitlyn asked, her eye on the menu, the other covered by an eye patch, she never told you how she had gotten it

Caitlyn had had her own package to carry she always made sure to fulfil her own wishes and notlife like her parents wanted. She did not want that comfortable life with a big firm in her back and practically getting everything handled to her. Life life being life a bitter right back in the ass the first she had been a high ranking police commander, it came like it had to she lost one of her eyes in service, leaving her unfit for the job. She tried to return to at least do desk work, but the PTSD took his tool