A Love Contract: Five Years

For five years, I was her dog. Sarah Miller, the woman I once loved, owned me, reminding me of it daily. The contract, my reason for existence, was almost over.

Then, Alex Thorne, her COO, smirked, "Try again," smudging the glass I just polished. Her private office door opened; Sarah emerged, beautiful and cold. She walked past me without a glance, stopping at Alex. His hand on her waist, he boated, "I aim to please... in every department," his eyes locked on mine. She leaned into him, whispering, loud enough for me to hear, "I know I can always count on you."