I transmigrated into a male-oriented entertainment-industry novel as the male lead's secret sugar mommy.
That's right, the kind of cannon-fodder female celebrity with a bit of money but no talent for music, chess, calligraphy, or painting.
I squinted at the hundreds of billions in assets in front of me, grinning from ear to ear.
With this much money, why keep trying to make it in showbiz? Of course I'm going to take it easy.
When the male lead realizes I'm no longer backing him, he panics.
He does everything he can to ask around and find me,
only to see me running my hands over a cute young guy's eight-pack,
my voice gentle, with a hint of temptation, as I say,
"Call me big sis and I'll give you a hundred thousand."
