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Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 564    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

eiling windows of Cullen Hunter's office like fallen stars. The office was

n. He didn't knock. He was the only pe

a tablet on the glass desk. "Hamlin Ward

er chair, rubbing his temples. "Since when does Ave

" Liam corrected. "T

his temples. He looke

at

ed play on

ite. Cullen watched Avery and Zoe walking. He

he watc

pivot. The strike. The lack of hesitation. Her face was a blur

ed yesterday morning. This was not the chaoti

len muttered. A spark of intrigue l

is sprained. He wants h

t the idea of Hamlin Ward-a parasite with a trust fund

Cullen decided. He pushed the

to help her? After the stunt she p

t pathetic display was an insult. I won't allow a debt, no matter how small or symbol

when he was lying to himself. "Understood. I'll find a scapegoat.

tablet. Avery standing over Hamlin, looking like a queen of the

" Liam said, tu

lence. He touched the screen, tra

on the desk. A

ery. Have you seen her?

eslie's name didn't bring a sense of c

text. He clos

lt too small. The air was too recycl

d his sui

o his intercom. "Take

moving the pieces t

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Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover
Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover
“I woke up in a luxury penthouse with a blinding headache and bruises on my thighs, staring at the man who was about to ruin my life. Cullen Hunter, the most dangerous billionaire in Los Angeles, was stepping out of the shower, ready to discard me with a signed check and a cold look of disdain. Then the memories hit me like a physical blow. I realized I had woken up in the "Death Flag" scene of a script-this was the exact morning Avery Hall was supposed to be kicked out, humiliated, and started her downward spiral into a tragic death. The nightmare escalated within minutes. My own brother, Ernest, called to tell me I was no longer a member of the family, freezing my trust fund and evicting me from my apartment. He believed the lies of our "perfect" adopted sister, Cheslie, who had leaked her own private photos and framed me for it just to gain sympathy. Even my fiancé, Preston, couldn't wait to dump me in public, calling me a "crazy bitch" before running straight into Cheslie's waiting arms. I was suddenly homeless, bankrupt, and the most hated woman in the city. My family wanted me to crawl back and apologize on my knees for a crime I didn't commit, while the man I had just spent the night with watched my destruction with boredom. I didn't understand how they could all turn on me so fast, or how I was expected to survive in a world where the script was literally written for my failure. "Avery, don't make this difficult," Cullen warned, waiting for the tears he thought were coming. But I refused to play the victim. I pulled three hundred dollars of my last bits of cash, slapped them onto Cullen's nightstand, and told him the service was mediocre. I wasn't going to beg for love or mercy anymore; I was going to rewrite the ending of this story and become the most dangerous femme fatale Hollywood had ever seen.”