Sugar sugar baby

[74] The warning

A week had passed since the confrontation at Long Beach, and things had been... strangely calm. I hadn't heard from Vanessa since that day, and a part of me had begun to relax, thinking maybe she'd finally decided to let things go. I'd spent the week trying to piece my life back together, one step at a time. No drama, no manipulation, just focusing on myself for once.

But then, one afternoon, as I was mindlessly scrolling through TikTok on the public library computer—because I still hadn't turned my phone back on—I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.

"This sugar baby is a master manipulator."

That was the title of the video that popped up in my recommended feed. My heart skipped a beat, a sinking feeling forming in my gut. I knew what this was.

I clicked on it, feeling the tension in my body rise as the short began to play.

The video started with a dramatic voiceover, accompanied by flashy, sensationalist music. The TikTok clip featured a bunch of stock footage—images of a rich, older woman sipping champagne and a younger guy in a suit, smiling arrogantly. But the words... the words hit hard.

"They say behind every great woman is a man... or in this case, a boy. Meet the young sugar baby who charmed his way into the life of a billionaire MILF during his internship at her company. He used her for her wealth, her connections, and when she generously funded his failed business venture, he couldn't even make that work."

My stomach clenched as the video continued, flashing images of failed businesses, stacks of cash, and sad, fake text messages.

"But it didn't stop there. He cheated on her. Yep, you heard that right. His sugar mama caught him red-handed, and when she tried to break things off, he ran back to the 'real world'—working a 9 to 5 like the rest of us. But guess what? He failed there too. One job after another, he couldn't keep it together. And just like a spoiled child, he came crawling back to her, asking for more money, more help."

I sat frozen, the blood rushing in my ears as I read between the lines. This wasn't just a story. This was my story.

The video continued, showing clips of a young man pacing nervously and then another shot of a man begging for help.

"And when she refused to take him back, guess what he did? He tried to play the victim, tried to gaslight her. But it gets worse—he threatened to expose intimate photos, trying to ruin her reputation. The audacity, right? Ladies, beware of boys like this. They'll use you, manipulate you, and when they can't get what they want, they'll turn on you."

The final image was of a glamorous, wealthy older woman walking away from the camera, leaving behind a broken man, while the voiceover finished with a sharp sting.

"Don't let them trick you into thinking they're the victim. The real mastermind is the one who's been pulling the strings all along."

The video ended, and the usual options to like, share, or comment popped up. I stared at the screen, my mind racing. It didn't mention names. It didn't have to. The whole damn video was a carefully veiled shot at me. A warning. A fucking public hit piece without saying my name outright.

I leaned back in the chair, my heart still racing, and ran a hand through my hair. Vanessa. She'd done this. This was her way of getting back at me, of making sure I knew that no matter what I did, she had control of the narrative. She was already spinning the story to make herself look like the victim, and me? I was the villain.

It was a warning. Plain and simple. If I tried to push back, if I tried to expose her or tell anyone the truth about what she'd done to me, this was just the beginning. She'd paint me as a manipulative loser, someone who took advantage of her kindness and tried to blackmail her. She was setting the stage, and I knew she had the resources and connections to do it on a much larger scale if she wanted to.

I stared at the screen, my thoughts racing, trying to make sense of it all. The video was subtle enough that I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't prove it was about me. Hell, if I tried to call her out on it, it would only make me look more guilty.

I clenched my fists, my anger boiling over. "Fucking bitch," I muttered under my breath, my voice low and filled with rage.

This was her game. This was how she operated. She didn't just ruin people privately—she ruined them publicly, too. I should've seen it coming. I should've known she'd pull something like this. I was never going to be free of her, was I?

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped me out of my thoughts. The librarian walked by, giving me a polite nod as she passed. I forced a smile and nodded back, pretending everything was fine, even though my mind was spinning out of control.

I took a deep breath and closed the browser, logging out of the computer. I needed to think. I needed to figure out my next move before Vanessa completely destroyed me. Because if that video was just the beginning, there was no telling what else she had planned.

As I walked out of the library and into the hot afternoon sun, I could feel the weight of it all pressing down on me. The city around me felt suffocating, the noise and chaos suddenly overwhelming. I needed space. I needed to clear my head.

I found a bench nearby and sat down, pulling out my phone. I stared at it for a long moment before finally powering it on. The screen lit up, and just like before, Vanessa's messages popped up again, along with a few new ones.

Vanessa: "How about a dinner tonight at my place?"

I stared at the messages, my pulse quickening. She knew I saw the video. Of course she did. She was keeping tabs on me, making sure I couldn't slip out of her grasp.

I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell her to fk off, to leave me alone, but I knew that wouldn't solve anything. If anything, it would just make things worse. She had already spun the narrative in her favor. I was the villain now, no matter what I did.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and leaned back against the bench, closing my eyes as the weight of the situation crashed over me. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

The answer wasn't clear, but one thing was certain: Vanessa wasn't going to stop.

Q: Would you go or just let her play out her threat?