1 When I transmigrated into this trashy romance novel, my little sister was kneeling in the pouring rain, begging her billionaire boyfriend not to dump her. I lunged forward and slapped her right across the face. She cupped her cheek, tears welling in her eyes. “Summer? You hit me?” I shook my hand, which was completely numb from the impact. “Are you awake yet?” She sniffled. “Yeah. Fully awake.” I shoved the umbrella into her arms, spun around, and glared at the billionaire standing on the mansion’s porch. “Your turn, Gavin. Are you going to get on your knees yourself, or should I fetch a non-slip mat for you?” Rain hammered against the pavement in front of the Harrington estate. The marble tiles were polished so bright they practically reflected my face, which was still trying to adjust to this high-definition world after only three minutes of transmigrating. My name is Summer. One second I was on the subway, reading a trashy, angsty web novel and complaining about the plot; the next, I was standing outside a mega-mansion. Right before my eyes was my little sister, Jasmine, kneeling in the rain. She was clutching a breakup agreement, soaked to the bone, sobbing so hard she couldn’t even form words. Gavin Harrington stood on the sheltered porch, holding a black umbrella low. Not a single drop of water touched his bespoke suit. The words coming out of his mouth were as toxic as they get. “Jasmine, someone like you doesn’t belong in the Harrington family. You aren’t worthy.” In my head, the original plot instantly popped up. In the novel, Jasmine suffered a miscarriage for this man, faced endless public humiliation, got constantly misunderstood, and was eventually locked in his mansion’s basement. Even on her deathbed, she still had to listen to him say “I love you.” My blood pressure skyrocketed on the spot. My wet shoes slipped on the slick pavement, and I almost did a full face-plant into a bow. Thankfully, I caught my balance. Gavin’s brow furrowed. He looked like he was waiting for me to join the crying fest. I marched up to Jasmine, raised my hand, and smack. It was a crisp, resounding slap. Even the sound of the rain seemed to quiet down for a second. Jasmine stared up at me, hand on her cheek, water dripping from her eyelashes. Her lips trembled uncontrollably. “Summer?” I crouched down, grabbed her by the shoulders, and stared straight into her dazed eyes. “When you look at him right now, is he still glowing in a romantic soft-focus filter?” She turned her head dazed to Gavin. Gavin raised his chin, looking down his nose at her with utter contempt. Jasmine sniffled. “No.” I nodded in satisfaction. “What does he look like to you now?” She took another look, hesitated, and muttered, “Like a guy who got locked out of his apartment for not paying his rent but is still trying to act like the president of the HOA.” I almost applauded right there. Brilliant. The slap therapy worked perfectly. Gavin’s expression soured. He stepped forward a fraction. An umbrella-toting bodyguard immediately adjusted his coverage. The sheer dramatic staging of it made it look like they were shooting a high-fashion cologne ad. “Summer, you dare strike her?” I stood up, rainwater dripping from my hair. Just as I was about to strike a powerful, intimidating pose, my nose tickled. “Achoo!” The sneeze blasted directly toward Gavin. The bodyguard’s umbrella wobbled. A fine mist of sneeze-spray settled on the front of Gavin’s pristine suit. Combined with his scowling face, the high-society romantic drama instantly devolved into an infectious disease control hazard. I wiped my nose with my sleeve. “Sorry, Mr. Harrington. My reflexes are more honest than your personality.” Behind me, Jasmine let out a sharp, muffled snort, trying desperately to suffocate a laugh. Gavin raised his hand. A bodyguard offered a handkerchief, but he ignored it. He didn’t even look at me, keeping his cold gaze locked on Jasmine. “Jasmine, if you walk out of this gate with her, don’t you dare think of ever coming back.” Jasmine’s shoulders slumped slightly. I could already guess her line in the original book: Gavin, I truly love you. I reached out, grabbed her head, and physically rotated her ninety degrees so she was facing the main exit of the gated community. “Don’t look. It’s bad for your eyesight.” With her neck twisted, Jasmine squeaked in a muffled voice, “Summer, my neck doesn’t rotate like a security camera.” I let go and snatched the breakup agreement from her hands. The pages were packed with dense legal jargon: Jasmine was forbidden from harassing Gavin, forbidden from appearing near the Harrington estate, forbidden from speaking to the media, and forbidden from seeking compensation. The line for the payout amount was completely blank. I looked up. “Mr. Harrington, this contract is incredibly eco-friendly.” Gavin glared at me. “What do you mean?” “You saved a ton of paper by omitting the dollar signs.” One of the bodyguards failed to suppress a chuckle, his shoulders twitching before he quickly looked down at his shoes. Gavin descended the stairs, his umbrella escort moving in perfect synchronization to keep him dry. He stopped right in front of me and lowered his voice. “How much do you want?” I pulled out my phone, opened the calculator app, and tapped the screen furiously. Gavin watched me with a smirk of sheer disdain. I shoved the screen right in front of his face. It read: 250. His jaw tightened. “Are you mocking me?” I shook my head. “You misunderstand. That’s your appearance fee. In Vietnamese Dong.” Jasmine couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing, quickly biting her own hand to muffle the sound. Gavin stared at me as if he wanted to file me away as a breach of contract. Just then, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the gates. The tinted window rolled down halfway, revealing a strikingly handsome face. The man wore gold-rimmed glasses and held a folder. He glanced at my outstretched phone screen. “Mr. Harrington, the board of directors is waiting.” Gavin snapped his gaze away from me, his voice stiff. “Gideon, you’re just in time. Escort these two off the property.” Gideon looked at my soaked sleeves, then glanced at the damp spot on Gavin’s chest. He remained silent for two seconds. “I can escort them out, but sanitation and disinfection fees will be billed separately.” I locked eyes with him through the rain. He was exceptionally good-looking, but his tongue was lethal. Gavin’s face went completely dark. I helped Jasmine stand up. As we passed Gideon’s car, he slid an umbrella through the open window. Jasmine reached for it, but I snatched the handle first. “Thanks. I’ll get it back to you.” Gideon stared at me. “The umbrella has a tracker.” My hand slipped, and I almost dropped it. He pushed up his glasses. “Just kidding.” I let out a breath. Then Gideon added, “It only has a Venmo code.” I looked down. Sure enough, a printed QR code sticker was taped to the handle. Jasmine whispered beside me, “Summer, do billionaires usually run side-hustles as umbrella rentals?” I stared at Gideon’s clean, elegant face, grinding my teeth. “Sis, remember this: even if a guy looks like a model, he might just be a smart-rental umbrella in human form.” The car window began to roll up. Just before it closed completely, Gideon’s voice drifted out. “Deposit is eighty-eight bucks.” I stood in the rain clutching the umbrella, thinking this novel world was absolutely exhausting. I hadn’t even dealt with the toxic billionaire yet, and I was already getting hit with a mobile transaction fee. 2 Back in our cramped apartment, Jasmine sat on the sofa clutching a mug of hot water, a faint red handprint still visible on her cheek. I rummaged through the drawers for ointment but only found a bottle of eucalyptus oil and half a block of hotpot base. Jasmine stared at the eucalyptus oil, shrinking back. “Summer, maybe we just let it heal naturally?” I shoved the bottle back into the drawer. “Fine. If your brain can wake up from love, your face can handle a little swelling.” She looked down, cradling her mug, her ears flushing red. I spread the breakup agreement across the coffee table. Next to it, I lined up the phone recordings, photos, the degrading text messages Gavin had sent her, and the stack of receipts for all the expensive gifts she had bought him over the years. The more I read, the more I wanted to list Gavin on eBay. Title: Billionaire, barely used, brain unboxing pending. Jasmine said softly, “Summer, Gavin wasn’t always like this.” I looked up. She immediately clutched her mug tighter. “I’m sorry! He was always like this. I just had a beauty filter on in my head.” The doorbell rang. Jasmine flinched, the lid of her mug rattling. I peeked through the peephole. Two men in sharp suits stood in the hallway, holding leather portfolios, their expressions so uniform they looked like they had been manufactured in the same factory. “Miss Lin, we are here on behalf of Mr. Harrington.” I didn’t open the door. I just yelled through it, “Did you bring care packages?” There was a pause outside. “We require Miss Jasmine Lin to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Mr. Harrington is willing to offer an additional hundred thousand dollars.” Jasmine’s eyes lit up for a fraction of a second before quickly dimming again. I reached out and covered her ears, shouting through the door, “Too low!” The voice outside responded, “Name your price.” I thought about it. “Have Gavin Harrington come here himself and sing I Will Survive. No lip-syncing, and he’d better hit the high notes.” Silence fell over the hallway. After a few seconds, a horribly familiar male voice echoed through the wood. “Summer, don’t push your luck.” Gavin had actually come. I unlocked the door and cracked it open just enough to show half my face. Gavin stood in the hallway, flanked by his assistant and two bodyguards. He held a revised contract, his face practically screaming: I am gracing you with my presence, so you’d better bow down and thank me. The moment I saw him, I slammed the door shut. Bang. Jasmine blinked, holding her mug. “Summer, aren’t you going to negotiate?” I leaned against the door, latched the safety chain, and cracked it open again. “Negotiating like this gives me a sense of security. Besides, it matches his gutter-dwelling vibe.” Gavin glared at me through the gap. “I will give you three hundred thousand. Leave this city.” I pulled out my phone and opened a food delivery app. “Hold your horses. Let me check how many pepperoni pizzas three hundred grand can buy.” A vein pulsed on Gavin’s temple. “Summer!” “Don’t worry.” I swiped the screen. “With the local coupons, that’s about thirty thousand pizzas. Mr. Harrington, are you trying to drown us in cheese?” The assistant couldn’t help himself. He let out a sharp cough. Gavin whipped his head around. The assistant immediately stared at the wall, his face turning a deep crimson. Jasmine peeked out from behind me, her voice soft but steady. “Gavin, I won’t bother you anymore.” Gavin’s expression relaxed slightly, clearly waiting for her to start crying. But Jasmine continued, “Just return the massage chair I bought you last year.” The draft from the hallway whistled through the crack. Gavin’s eyelid twitched. I looked back at her, a wave of sisterly pride washing over me. Look at that. The kid was finally learning how to collect debts. Gavin gritted his teeth. “Jasmine, are you sure about this?” Jasmine hesitated for half a second before opening her phone’s notes app. “And the watch I got you for your birthday. That was twelve thousand. The organic royal jelly your mother made me buy, five grand. And the pet grooming bill for your dog, Duke. I paid nine hundred bucks for that, and the dog bit my ankle right after.” The more she read, the smoother she got. No tears fell, but her mouth was moving at lightning speed. “Oh, and those forty boba teas I ordered for you when you said you were in a bad mood. You only took one sip, said it was too sweet, and left. I stayed up until three in the morning drinking them so they wouldn’t go to waste.” I chimed in, “That counts as emotional distress. I suggest we charge him per cup.” The billionaire filter on Gavin’s face was peeling off like cheap paint. He slapped the contract against the door. “Don’t regret this.” I slipped the contract through the crack and looked at it. This time, the compensation line indeed said three hundred thousand. I pulled out a pen and added two zeros to the end. Gavin sneered. “Are you out of your mind?” I handed it back. “Mr. Harrington, if you’re going to insult us, at least adjust for inflation.” At the end of the hallway, the elevator dinged. Gideon walked out, carrying a transparent document folder. His gaze drifted from our high-security doorway negotiation to Gavin’s thunderous expression. “Mr. Harrington, the Chairman wants you back at the office.” Gavin suppressed his rage. “What are you doing here?” Gideon held up the folder. “Delivering the receipt for the umbrella deposit.” My scalp went numb. Jasmine whispered behind me, “Summer, he tracked us down to collect a debt.” Gideon approached and slid the receipt through the door crack. I took it, looked at it, and stared at him. “The deposit was eighty-eight dollars. Why does this receipt say eight thousand eight hundred?” Gideon’s eyes behind his glasses remained perfectly calm. “The umbrella you took was a limited-edition commemorative piece.” I looked down at the black umbrella leaning against the wall. Printed in tiny font on the canopy was: Harrington Group 10th Anniversary Employee Benefit. I looked back up. “Your employee benefits are that expensive?” Gideon nodded. “The price reflects the fact that nobody wanted them.” Gavin finally snapped. “Gideon, whose side are you on?” Gideon tucked the folder under his arm, his tone deadpan. “Billed hourly, right now I am on the side of the receipt.” I watched him through the crack. For the first time, a thought popped into my head. This man is unhinged. But he is exactly the kind of unhinged I need on my team. The hallway motion-sensor light clicked off. In the sudden darkness, Jasmine grabbed my arm nervously. Gavin’s voice drifted through the gap, sounding like a utility shut-off notice. “Jasmine, I am giving you one last chance.” I was about to lay into him when Gideon’s voice echoed in the dark. “Mr. Harrington, motion-sensor lights require sound.” In the next second, he clapped his hands twice. The light flickered back on. Revealing Gavin’s face, pressed right against the door crack, trying to peek inside. Our eyes met from a mere three centimeters away. Jasmine let out a shriek and splashed her mug of hot water straight through the gap. Outside the door, Gavin unleashed a scream that was decidedly un-billionaire. 3 Gavin was howling and hopping down the hallway while his bodyguards scrambled around him. The corridor echoed with the sounds of dropping dignity and urgent requests for burn ointment. I shut the door tight, locked it, and turned to Jasmine. She was holding her empty mug, her face pale. “Summer, did I just ruin everything?” I patted her shoulder. “You just physically terminated a toxic engagement. High efficiency, really.” Jasmine’s lips twitched, wanting to smile but not quite daring to. Suddenly, our phones began to vibrate frantically. The original novel’s plot was fighting back. A PR account associated with the Harrington Group had just released a statement. It heavily implied that Jasmine had been stalking Gavin for years, and after failing to extort money from him, she had thrown boiling water at him in a fit of rage. Underneath the post, armies of internet trolls and bot accounts were marching in, calling her a gold-digger, an attention seeker, and a lunatic obsessed with marrying into wealth. Jasmine watched the comments roll in, her face draining of color. I snatched the phone away. “Don’t look into the dumpster. Roses don’t grow there.” Her eyes welled with tears. “But everyone believes them.” I opened a drawer and pulled out a small megaphone. It was a relic left behind by the original host of this body from when she used to sell hairpins at a street market, which was bright pink with two faded strawberry stickers. Jasmine stared at me, startled by the prop. “Summer, what are you doing?” I hung the megaphone around my neck, opened a video editing app on my phone, and began organizing our evidence. “Gavin loves public opinion. Let’s give him a feast.” As the sunset bled through the windows, I dragged Jasmine straight to the Harrington Group headquarters. The office tower was buzzing with rush-hour traffic. When the security guards spotted the neon-pink megaphone in my hand, their expressions instantly switched to high alert. I cleared my throat. The megaphone let out a screeching feedback howl, making passing white-collar workers collectively shrink their necks. “Attention, passersby and lovers of gossip! The Harrington Group’s Annual Relationship Fraud Customer Service Desk is now open!” Jasmine tugged at my sleeve, her fingers trembling. I handed her my phone. “Read the ledger.” She looked at the screen, then at the gathering crowd. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. I raised the megaphone. “During his relationship with my sister, Mr. Gavin Harrington accepted gifts totaling twenty-three thousand six hundred and forty-eight dollars! This includes a high-end massage chair, designer watches, organic supplements, dog grooming bills, and forty boba teas!” Someone in the crowd snorted. “Dog grooming counts too?” I nodded into the mic. “Even the dog got pampered, while my sister didn’t even get a thank-you!” Jasmine sniffled, lifting her chin. “And the Uber fares!” I passed her the megaphone. Her hands shook as she took it, her voice wavering at first but growing clearer with every word. “Every time we had an argument, he made me get out of his car and find my own way home. I had to take Ubers back just to apologize to him. The total round trips cost me nine hundred and seventy dollars!” The onlookers began whispering and chuckling. Two security guards lunged forward, trying to grab the megaphone. I sidestepped them, but my heel caught on a loose paving stone. I tilted sideways, losing my balance. A firm hand caught me by the back. The crisp scent of pine and rain filled my nose. I looked up. Gideon was standing right behind me, holding a coffee cup in his other hand. The coffee sloshed slightly but didn’t spill a single drop. Inappropriately, I found myself thinking: This guy’s balance is perfect for waitressing. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Gideon looked at the pink megaphone around my neck. “Working.” I pointed at the crowd. “It’s a circus outside your office tower. Aren’t you going to do something?” He looked down at his phone. “I’m waiting for the PR department to clock out.” I blinked. “Why?” Gideon turned his screen toward me. The internal PR group chat was scrolling at lightspeed. “There’s a woman holding a relationship fraud seminar downstairs.” “Security can’t catch her. She has insane agility.” “Mr. Harrington is asking who let her in.” “The revolving doors refuse to take the blame.” Gideon tucked his phone away. “If they haven’t clocked out, I can’t bill for overtime.” I stared at him, managing to squeeze out, “Your rebellion against capitalism is oddly refreshing.” Before Gideon could reply, the revolving doors spun open violently. Gavin stormed out. He had changed his shirt, but a patch of red skin was still visible on his collarbone. His expression was darker than the twilight sky. Jasmine’s hand holding the megaphone shrank back. I stepped half a pace forward, shielding her. Gavin growled, “Summer, have you had enough?” I turned the megaphone volume to maximum. “NO!” The piercing screech of feedback echoed across the plaza. Gavin’s eye twitched. He lunged to grab the device. Gideon smoothly extended his coffee cup between us. “Mr. Harrington, it’s hot.” Gavin froze. In that split second, the burn on his neck must have triggered a vivid flashback. I seized the opportunity to step back and hit play on my phone’s audio recordings. Gavin’s voice blasted through the speaker. “Jasmine, you are absolutely nothing without me!” The crowd gasped. Jasmine stood tall behind me, her shoulders no longer hunched. She looked at Gavin, her face completely devoid of the broken, pleading look from the original book. Gavin lunged again to shut off my phone. My foot slipped on the wet stone. This time, I couldn’t catch myself. I went down, taking the megaphone with me. Gideon reached out to catch me, but his coffee was caught in the crossfire. My elbow shoved his arm. Splash. The coffee splattered directly onto the massive digital billboard flanking the lobby entrance of the Harrington Group. The giant screen flickered violently. The corporate promotional video glitched, suddenly cutting to a bright blue error screen. Then, the megaphone fell to the pavement, triggering a pre-recorded intro I had set up earlier: “Welcome to the premier episode of: Gavin Harrington’s Epic Downfall!” Every single person outside the building looked up at the giant screen. The display flared to life. 4 On the massive digital screen, Gavin’s voice, “You are absolutely nothing without me!” looped three times in high-definition audio. With each repetition, Gavin’s face turned a shade closer to a boiled lobster. A security guard tried to pull the power cable, but the display’s control box was mounted too high. He jumped twice, only grabbing handfuls of empty air. A passing software engineer holding a boba tea yelled directions. “Reboot it! Hold the power button for ten seconds!” The guard roared back, “This is a commercial display, not your home router!” Gideon stood off to the side, staring down at his coffee cup. Only a smear of brown foam remained at the bottom. I cleared my throat. “I’ll pay for it.” He looked at me. “The coffee or the screen?” I immediately turned to Jasmine. “Jasmine, look! A wild guilt-trip in its natural habitat.” Jasmine looked up at the sky with a face so earnest it was almost heartbreaking. Gavin finally snapped out of his trance. He marched up to me, his finger practically poking my forehead. “You set me up?” I picked up the pink megaphone and blew the dust off it. “Mr. Harrington, this is called customer feedback.” He lowered his voice to a threatening hiss. “Do you think a couple of audio clips can ruin me?” I opened my phone’s gallery and held up a screenshot of the text messages showing he had made Jasmine wait in a torrential downpour for five hours. “I also have pictures.” I swiped to the next image, a voice-to-text transcript of his mother demanding Jasmine deliver imported supplements but forbidding her from entering the house. “And audio transcripts.” I kept swiping, showing screenshots of his friends betting on how long Jasmine would last in a group chat. “And group chats.” Gideon reached out, his fingers gently pressing down on the edge of my phone. I looked at him warily. “Are you confiscating the evidence?” He adjusted his glasses. “Your battery is at four percent.” I looked down. My breath caught. Gideon handed me a power bank. The casing, naturally, was another Harrington Group 10th Anniversary Employee Benefit. I took it in silence. Just how many unwanted promo items did this company manufacture? Gavin saw Gideon helping me, his brow furrowing into a tight knot. “Gideon, don’t forget who signs your paychecks.” Gideon checked his watch. “My employment contract explicitly excludes accompanying you during public embarrassments.” Several chuckles erupted from the crowd. Gavin’s temper flared. He turned to his bodyguards and ordered them to clear the plaza. The crowd began to disperse, pushing Jasmine back. I reached out to grab her, but she pulled away, taking a firm step forward. “Gavin Harrington.” Her voice was still thick from crying, but it carried perfectly through the megaphone. “You always said I couldn’t survive without you.” Gavin stared at her, his expression a complex mix of anger and expectation, clearly waiting for her to beg. Jasmine pulled a plastic card from her purse. “This is the gym membership you opened under my name. You never went once, and the trainer texts me every single day asking when you’re coming in.” Gavin froze. She held the card high. “Refund me the money. I’m taking up boxing.” The crowd burst into full-blown laughter. I almost squeezed the power bank to pieces, my heart bursting with sisterly pride. I wanted to commission a plaque for her. The last shred of Gavin’s romantic ego was utterly demolished by the word “boxing.” Just as the security guards were starting to sweat from the sheer chaos, a sleek silver luxury van pulled up to the curb. The door slid open, and Mrs. Harrington stepped out. She was immaculately put together, her hair coiffed without a single strand out of place, her pearl necklace gleaming under the streetlights. “What is the meaning of this?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but the plaza instantly fell quiet. Jasmine’s face paled. In the original novel, Mrs. Harrington was a major source of misery, famous for using multi-million-dollar checks and icy glares to crush the female lead into oblivion. I slung the megaphone over my chest, preparing for battle. Mrs. Harrington walked over, her gaze sweeping past Jasmine before settling on me. “So, you’re Summer?” I nodded. She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a card. Jasmine tensed. I braced myself. Here it comes. The classic “take five million and leave my son” routine. Mrs. Harrington slid the card toward me. “There is a thousand dollars on this.” My face practically cracked open. She lifted her chin. “Leave my son.” The onlookers fell into a collective, stunned silence. I stared at the card, taking a few seconds to process it before asking, “Mrs. Harrington… is your son really worth that little nowadays?” Beside me, Gideon turned his head away, his shoulders shaking slightly. Mrs. Harrington’s face turned livid. Gavin growled, “Mom!” Mrs. Harrington glared back at him. “Shut up! The company’s stock is tanking, and you’re out here hosting a relationship exit interview?” My eyes lit up. Ah. So the Harringtons do care about public scandal. Just as I was about to strike while the iron was hot, Mrs. Harrington turned to Gideon. “Gideon, take them to the conference room. We will settle this inside.” Gideon nodded. I took a step back. “We aren’t going.” Mrs. Harrington sneered. “Scared?” I held up the megaphone. “Just worried your conference room doesn’t have cameras.” Gideon tapped his phone screen a few times. “It does. And it records audio.” I looked at him. He added, “I just had it serviced today. I still have the receipt.” I was certain of it now. This man has an unhealthy obsession with receipts.
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