3 AM. The pouring rain had soaked through my delivery bag. The order note had only three words: “Bring it upstairs.” This was New York’s most exclusive private club. The door to the penthouse stood wide open, reeking of the cloying mix of luxury and alcohol that saturated these elite playgrounds. Head down, I just wanted to leave the food and run. I needed to get to my next order, to scrape together enough for my mother’s dialysis next week. A polished leather shoe came down on my delivery box. “Miss Johnson. Five years, and you’ve learned to serve people?” My entire body stiffened. The blood in my veins ran cold. I knew that voice. It was Xavier Cole. Now one of New York’s new rich. Also the man I had forced to kneel in the snow five years ago during a blizzard, the man I had slapped before walking away. I trembled. Before I could even think how to beg, the system that had lain dormant in my head for five years screamed to life. “Opportunity detected. Host, throw this box of takeout in his face. Mission failure results in immediate electric shock.”
Rachel’s POV I gripped the edge of the delivery bag with white knuckles. The man in front of me had changed too much. He wore a custom-tailored black shirt, revealing a watch worth a small fortune. The boy who used to wear shirts washed until they were nearly transparent had been completely replaced by this dark, powerful figure with an oppressive presence. He looked down at me from his superior height, unconcealed mockery in his eyes, along with a trace of hatred. The air around us seemed to freeze. The people who’d been laughing and chatting in the private room had all fallen silent. There were plenty of familiar faces among them-those rich heirs who used to orbit around me. Now they all shrank back, watching the show. Everyone recognized me. Rachel Johnson, once untouchable in New York, then fallen from grace when her family went bankrupt. “What’s wrong? Don’t recognize me anymore?” Xavier pressed down harder with his shoe, grinding it against the not-particularly-sturdy delivery box. The cardboard made a sharp cracking sound. The soup and sauces inside probably spilled, seeping out from the corner of the box. I didn’t care about the box. I cared about the money they’d deduct. If this order got charged against me, tonight’s work would be for nothing. Even worse, the system alarm in my head was shrieking so loud it felt like it would pierce my eardrums, making my skull go numb. “Warning! Core plot character Xavier Cole detected!” “Mission issued. Host must immediately humiliate the male lead with the following line: ‘Someone like you doesn’t deserve to eat the food I deliver!’” “Countdown: ten seconds. Failure penalty: Level 3 electric shock. Host’s current physical state cannot withstand it. Fatality rate: ninety-nine percent.” My heart seized violently. That familiar, near-death sensation was back. It felt like a hand of thorns was squeezing my heart’s chambers. The pain was excruciating. My broken body couldn’t take another round of this torture. The pain made my eyes instantly red. Tears filled them uncontrollably, falling in large drops. To avoid dying from pain right here, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and force myself to look up. I tried to make myself look vicious and cruel, tried to summon the attitude Miss Johnson used to have. But my body was too honest. Trembling from pain, my voice came out in an unstoppable, tearful quaver. “Xavier… let go.” Xavier stared at my reddened eyes. His movements clearly paused. He probably hadn’t expected that the first time we met, I’d be this pathetic, crying mess. “Begging me?” He leaned down, his ice-cold fingers gripping my chin hard enough it felt like he’d crush my bones, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Where did that Rachel go? The one who threw money in my face and told me to get lost?” His breath hit my face, completely cold. The countdown in my head reached zero. “0!” Searing pain struck instantly, like ten thousand needles stabbing into my heart simultaneously. My mind went blank. Not wanting to die, survival instinct took over. I could only cry while shouting out that vicious line. “You… someone like you doesn’t deserve to eat the food I deliver!” Dead silence filled the room. Even the background music in the private room seemed to stop. Everyone stared at me with wide eyes, like they were looking at a lunatic. I thought I was a lunatic too. I was calling him beneath me while tears and snot ran down my face uncontrollably, falling in large drops onto his spotless leather shoes. I thought Xavier would explode with rage, would have someone throw me out, or just smash a bottle over my head. But he didn’t. He stared at my tears. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes became unfathomably dark. Those pitch-black eyes churned with emotions I couldn’t read. “Beneath you?” He repeated those three words in a low voice, his fingertips roughly brushing across the corner of my eye. The calluses scraped my skin raw. “Fine. Then tonight I’ll show Miss Johnson exactly how beneath-you people do things.” The next second, he grabbed my wrist with shocking strength and dragged me into the private room. He kicked the door shut with his foot, cutting off all those spectating gazes. “Everyone out.” He barked the order without looking back. Those normally arrogant rich people didn’t dare make a sound, slinking out along the wall. Only he and I remained in the room. In the dim lighting, he threw me onto the leather sofa and pressed down over me.
Rachel’s POV The impact left me dizzy. The rainwater from my delivery uniform soaked a large patch of the expensive sofa. Before I could climb up, Xavier had already tossed a black card and a thick stack of cash onto the coffee table in front of me. The money was thick. Blindingly so. “Need money, don’t you? How much can you make delivering food?” Xavier sat on the coffee table across from me, his long legs stretched out casually, blocking my escape route. He poured himself a glass of expensive liquor, swirling the glass, his eyes fixed on me with amusement. “Dance for me. This money is yours.” I stared at that pile of money, my throat tight. Fifty thousand dollars. Exactly enough for my mom’s medical and nursing care next month. I really needed this money. For this money, forget dancing-I’d bark like a dog on my knees if he wanted. I sniffled and reached for the stack of bills. My hand hadn’t even touched the corner when that damned system in my head exploded again. “Warning! Villainous character collapse detected!” “Mission issued. Tear up the check and throw your drink in his face. Shout: ‘Keep the money for your coffin!’” “Failure penalty: Removal of pain block. Pain level ten.” My hand trembled, freezing mid-air. Level ten pain. The pain of giving birth. I would die here. I would truly die from the pain I closed my eyes in despair. Tears flowed down again without permission. Why force me like this? I just wanted to survive, wanted to save my mom. Why wouldn’t they give me even this small chance to live? Xavier watched my frozen hand and laughed coldly. “Not enough? Miss Johnson’s current value probably isn’t worth this much anymore, is it?” Every word carried barbs, each one precisely piercing my self-respect. But what self-respect did I have left? I bit my lip and shakily picked up the glass of liquor on the table. My hand trembled like a sieve. I really couldn’t bear to lose this money. And I really was afraid of pain. Xavier raised an eyebrow, watching me, seemingly waiting for my next move, his eyes full of mockery. I steeled myself and closed my eyes, about to throw it. But in that instant, my heart contracted violently. The sharp pain made my wrist go weak. The glass aimed at his face veered off course. Splash- The dark red liquid didn’t hit his face. Instead, it spilled all over the awkward area between his legs. And because my hand was shaking so badly, I couldn’t hold the glass steady. It dropped right onto his thigh, rolled around, then fell to the floor. Time seemed to freeze. Xavier looked down at his soaked crotch, at the red wine dripping down his suit pants. The vein at his temple throbbed violently twice. I was scared stupid. This was worse than throwing it in his face, wasn’t it? I’d just pulled the tiger’s whiskers and slapped it for good measure. “I… I didn’t mean to…” My face went deathly pale with fear. Instinctively I reached out to help him wipe it, but then realized that area was inappropriate and frantically pulled my hand back. The system in my head seemed to glitch for a moment, apparently never having encountered this situation either. Xavier slowly raised his head. His eyes were terrifyingly dark. He didn’t explode. Really. If this were five years ago, or if it were anyone else, he probably would have struck already. But now his ears were turning an eerie shade of red. He clamped down on my flailing wrist, the pressure so hard it felt like it would brand into my flesh. “Where exactly were you aiming?” His voice was hoarse, glaring at me through gritted teeth. “In such a hurry?” I froze. He thought I was seducing him? I opened my mouth, wanting to explain that I meant to throw it in your face to humiliate you, not throw it at your crotch to seduce you. But looking at his expression like he wanted to devour me, I didn’t dare speak. “Think the money’s dirty?” Xavier released my hand, methodically pulled out a few tissues, and wiped casually, the motion rough yet carrying an indescribable wildness. “Rachel.” He stood up. His shadow instantly engulfed me. “Since you don’t want to dance, let’s change the method of repayment.” Without allowing me to resist, he pulled me up from the sofa, completely ignoring my struggles, and dragged me toward the exit. “Come home with me.” I refused to go, desperately clutching the doorframe. “I won’t go! I have deliveries to make! They’ll dock my pay!” Xavier glanced back at me, his eyes cold as ice. “How much is that box of garbage worth? I’ll buy it.” He hoisted me up directly. Actually hoisted me. Like a sack of potatoes. My stomach pressed against his hard shoulder, nearly making me vomit up dinner. “Xavier Cole! Put me down! You lunatic!” I pounded on his back while crying. Xavier completely ignored my feeble efforts, striding through the corridor with long steps. Under everyone’s horrified gazes, he stuffed me into that limited-edition black Maybach. “Move again and I’ll take you right here in the car.” The words he dropped before closing the door successfully turned me to stone.
Rachel’s POV The car sped all the way into the top-tier luxury villa district. This was New York’s most expensive real estate, also where the Johnson family had lived before bankruptcy. Ironically, Xavier’s villa now was right next door to my family’s old address. He dragged me out of the car and pulled me all the way into the villa’s main hall. Inside was cold and lifeless. The decor was all cool tones-black, white, gray. Just like the man himself, radiating an aura of “stay away.” “Go shower.” He pointed upstairs. “Guest room has a bathroom. Wash yourself clean. You reek.” My delivery uniform was already soaked through. Now mixed with alcohol and sweat, it really did stink. But I didn’t dare move. Alone together, just a man and woman in one house-who knew how he’d take revenge on me? “Not going?” Xavier loosened his tie while watching me, his eyes dangerous. “Want me to help you wash?” I startled and bolted upstairs. The bathroom was huge. When the hot water poured down, I finally felt somewhat alive again. But I quickly discovered a desperate problem. No change of clothes. I couldn’t go out naked, and I couldn’t wear that soaked, dirty uniform again. While I was agonizing, someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Clothes are outside the door.” Xavier’s voice came through the door. After his footsteps faded, I carefully cracked the door open. A white shirt lay on the floor. Judging by the size, it was his. I reluctantly put it on. The hem was very long, covering to the top of my thighs, but this somehow made it seem even more ambiguous. I dawdled for ages before finally having to come out. When I came downstairs, Xavier was nowhere to be seen. I only heard movement from the study. I walked over as if possessed. The study door was half-open. Xavier seemed to have gone to shower. No one was inside. I was about to retreat when my gaze was suddenly drawn to something in the most prominent position on the bookshelf. It was an old, yellowed book. The cover was curled at the edges, completely out of place among all these expensive hardcovers. *Advanced Calculus*. My breath caught. That was the book I’d used to hit his spine in the snow five years ago when I drove him away. The spine had cracked from the impact. I’d watched him bend down to pick it up, brush off the snow, and limp away. He’d kept it? And put it in such a prominent place? My heart began to race, not just from shock but from fear. Inside that book’s cover lining, I’d hidden the suicide note I’d written him when I thought I’d surely die. It was a real confession letter, filled with my helplessness, my love, and all those truths I couldn’t speak aloud. If he saw it… If he knew all my cruelty back then was an act… The system would definitely judge me in violation and erase me directly. No. That book absolutely couldn’t stay here! I couldn’t care about anything else. Barefoot, I rushed into the study, standing on tiptoe to reach for that book. The shelf was too high. I struggled, my fingers just barely touching the spine when a chilling voice came from behind. “Developed a taste for thievery?” I nearly jumped out of my skin. My hand jerked and the book fell. Fortunately it didn’t fall open. I frantically crouched down to grab it, but a large hand pressed down on the book faster than me. Xavier had somehow finished showering. He wore only a bath towel, his hair still dripping. Water droplets slid down his solid chest muscles, disappearing into the loose edge of that towel. That body… was too illegal. But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it now. He pressed down on the book, half-crouching in front of me. That intense pheromone scent instantly surrounded me. “Why are you keeping this book?” I forced myself to stay calm, trying to seize the initiative. “The footprints on it are from me stepping on it. Doesn’t that disgust you?” Xavier stared at me. His gaze slid from my damp hair to the collar of my ill-fitting shirt, finally stopping on my panicked eyes. “Disgusting.” He said I was disgusting, but his eyes didn’t look disgusted at all. Instead, they carried a predatory aggression. “Reminding myself constantly how I was driven out like a dog.” He picked up the book, casually dusting it off without opening it. I breathed a sigh of relief. My heart had just settled when I heard him say again: “Want to take it back? Afraid I’ll remember your cruelty?” He pressed closer step by step, backing me into the corner by the bookshelf. Hard spines pressed against my back. In front was his scalding chest. “I… I just wanted to review my coursework.” I came up with the lamest excuse possible. Xavier laughed in exasperation. He braced one hand beside my ear, lowering his head until our noses nearly touched. “Review?” His voice went husky, his eyes darkening. “Why don’t we review something else instead? Like… how we used to kiss five years ago?” My brain exploded with a bang. This plot development was all wrong! I’m the villainous supporting character! You’re supposed to be getting revenge on me! Before I could react, he suddenly straightened up, casually tossed the book upward, throwing it to the very top shelf where I could never reach. “Want the book? Dream on.” He turned to leave, his back cold. “Go cook. I’m hungry.” I leaned against the bookshelf, my legs a bit weak, looking at that book with a bitter heart. This was bad. Trying to steal it back would be even harder now.
Rachel’s POV Xavier was definitely sick. He clearly had ten chefs on call at any time, but insisted on forcing me-someone who couldn’t cook-to make him food. “Can’t make it? Then forget about that fifty thousand.” For money, I endured. I struggled in the kitchen spacious enough to run laps in. I could only make oatmeal. When the oatmeal started bubbling, that annoying system voice came again. “Daily mission issued. Put something in this meal to make it inedible! And mock him with: ‘You think you deserve to eat my cooking?’” “Put something in it?” I was shocked. “Where am I supposed to get anything?” System: “The salt shaker is right beside you. Salting him to death is also a kind of poison.” I looked at the salt shaker by my hand, then at Xavier sitting at the dining table reading the newspaper outside. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looking like a refined scoundrel, seemingly in a decent mood. My hand trembled. Pouring half a jar of salt into porridge-eating that would require kidney dialysis, wouldn’t it? But I had no choice. If I didn’t do it, before the porridge even left the kitchen, I’d collapse from heart pain first. I took a deep breath. When no one was looking, I grabbed the salt shaker and started pouring it into the bowl. Pouring while feeling guilty, my hand shook too badly. Accidentally, the lid came loose. An entire jar of salt dumped into that poor bowl of plain porridge. It piled up like a snow mountain. I was dumbfounded. This wasn’t even a question of salty or not anymore. This was a lethal dose, wasn’t it? I wanted to scoop it out, but the salt dissolved too quickly. “Done yet? Need me to come get you?” Xavier’s urging voice came through. I steeled myself and carried out that bowl of oatmeal that could poison an elephant. “Eat.” I set the bowl heavily in front of him, putting on an expression that needed a beating as the system required. “Eat until you drop dead.” Xavier raised an eyebrow, looked at the oatmeal, then at me. “What new trick is this?” He picked up the spoon. Without even stirring, he scooped a large spoonful directly into his mouth. I held my breath, watching his Adam’s apple move. In that moment, I’d even prepared to call an ambulance. “Don’t drink it! It’ll kill you!” I shouted uncontrollably, reaching out to grab his bowl. That was pure salt! But Xavier avoided my hand and swallowed that mouthful without changing expression. Didn’t even furrow his brow. I was stunned. Had he lost his sense of taste? Xavier set down the spoon, picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth, and looking at my horrified expression, actually smiled slightly. That smile was faint but made my heart ache. “I remember you always loved pulling these kinds of pranks.” He said lightly, his eyes actually holding a trace of nostalgia. “Still the same taste. Hasn’t changed at all.” “As long as you made it with your own hands, I’d drink poison too.” The last half-sentence was so quiet it was almost like talking to himself. I froze in place, my fingers curling up. My heart felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton soaked in salt water-astringent and blocked. He knew. He’d always known I did it on purpose. But he accepted it all. Just like five years ago when I tore up all his homework and threw it in the trash so he couldn’t turn it in. The next day, he’d silently pieced the scraps back together, stayed up all night rewriting it, and still brought me my favorite toast. “Why?” I asked hoarsely, my eyes reddening again. Xavier didn’t answer. He stood up and straightened his cuffs. “Done eating. Let’s go.” “Where?” “The hospital.” He glanced at me. “To see your mother.” I jerked my head up. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said with a cold laugh, reverting to that cutting manner. “I’m just going to see if I can transfer your mother to my private hospital. After all… if you’re going to serve me in this half-dead state, I find it inauspicious.”
Rachel’s POV On the way to the hospital, my heart started protesting. Probably because my emotions had fluctuated too much just now, plus I hadn’t slept well from last night’s ordeal, the aftereffects of the system’s punishment began their backlash. It was a dull-knife kind of pain, spreading from my chest to all four limbs. I bit my lip, trying not to make a sound, but cold sweat had already soaked my back. No good. I had to take medicine. I always kept strong painkillers in my bag-black market stuff specifically for nerve pain. Taking advantage of Xavier going to pay fees, I hid in the first-floor restroom. My hands shook so badly I couldn’t even unscrew the bottle cap. Finally managing to pour out two white pills, before I could put them in my mouth, the restroom door suddenly pushed open. Xavier stood in the doorway, his face terrifyingly dark. “What are you doing?” He strode over and grabbed my wrist. The pills that hadn’t reached my mouth fell to the floor. He bent down to pick up those two pills, then snatched the medicine bottle from my hand. I’d deliberately put this medicine in an ordinary vitamin bottle to avoid suspicion. “What are you taking?” He stared at the bottle, his eyes sharp as an X-ray. My heartbeat skipped. Forcing down the severe pain, I squeezed out a smile. “Vitamins. For skin care.” “Vitamins?” Xavier laughed coldly, pouring out a pill and crushing it between his fingers. “Poor as you are now, still particular about skincare? You really are-broke but still refined.” His mouth mocked, but his hand didn’t release my wrist. He probably felt my pulse racing chaotically. “Why are your hands so cold?” He frowned, reaching to touch my forehead. All cold sweat. “Does it hurt?” That one word nearly collapsed my defenses. How I wanted to throw myself into his arms and cry, tell him how much it hurt, tell him these five years I’d been living in hell every single day. But I couldn’t. The system flashed a warning red light in my mind. “Doesn’t hurt. Just hungry.” I pulled my hand back, snatched the medicine bottle back and shoved it in my pocket, pretending nonchalance. “Done paying? Then let’s go. Don’t waste time.” Xavier stared at me for a while with that gaze that made me feel stripped naked. Finally he said nothing and turned to leave. I breathed a sigh of relief, secretly picking up those two dirty pills and swallowing them. The bitter taste spread through my mouth.
Rachel’s POV My mother’s condition had stabilized. Though Xavier had a poisonous tongue, he never did things halfway. He directly transferred my mom to a VIP room and hired the best team of specialists. I owed him more and more. “There’s a class reunion tonight. You’re coming with me.” Leaving the hospital, Xavier suddenly threw that sentence at me. I instinctively refused. “I’m not going. I don’t want to see those people.” Those people-they used to orbit around me. Now they probably all couldn’t wait to watch me make a fool of myself. “You don’t get a choice.” Xavier looked at me coldly. “You can be my date or my servant. You pick.” In the end, I still went wearing the dress he’d prepared for me. It was a black velvet gown that made my skin look snow-white but also made me appear even more gaunt and haggard. The private room was already full of people. As soon as Xavier entered, everyone stood up, faces full of flattery as they crowded around calling him “Mr. Cole.” Seeing me following behind, those smiling faces instantly stiffened, then transformed into meaningful contempt. “Rachel Johnson?” The speaker was a guy who used to like me. He’d written me love letters that I rejected. Now he’d gotten fat with a beer belly. “I heard after the Johnson family went bankrupt, you started delivering food? How come today you can still follow Mr. Cole around?” “Could it be… you know?” The surrounding area erupted in knowing laughter. I kept my head down, my nails digging into my palms. Xavier said nothing, just sat down on his own, not having anyone give me a seat. I stood beside him like an unnecessary decoration, awkward. Just then, a woman in a red miniskirt walked over. Jessica Chen. Once my follower. But as soon as my family had problems, she immediately claimed not to know me. “You came too.” She held a glass of red wine, pretending to warmly take my hand while viciously tripping me with her foot. Wearing high heels, already unstable, I stumbled forward. To avoid face-planting, I instinctively grabbed the only support nearby-Xavier’s thigh. But I still ended up kneeling on the ground. My knees hit the carpet with a dull thud. Before I could get up, Jessica laughed exaggeratedly. No one helped me up. The whole room burst into laughter. Flushed with shame and anger, just about to stand, the system in my head came again. “Random mission triggered! Seize the opportunity to humiliate the male lead!” “Mission content: Point at your shoes and order Xavier to polish them! Line: ‘My shoes are dirty, Xavier. Clean them for me.’” “Penalty: Public urinary incontinence!” I’d lost my mind. System, are you a pervert? Urinary incontinence? I might as well just bash my head in and die. I looked up at Xavier. He was looking down at me kneeling by his leg, his expression indifferent, impossible to read. Tears were already pooling in my eyes. On one side was dignity. On the other was social death. I chose shamelessness. I extended my foot. Those delicate high heels had a bit of dust on the toe from when I’d fallen just now. Voice trembling, tearful, I pointed at that bit of dust. “Dirty… it’s dirty.” “Xavier, you clean it for me.” The entire room instantly fell silent. Jessica especially looked at me like I was a dead person. “Rachel, have you lost your mind? How dare you order Mr. Cole…” It was over. I closed my eyes, waiting for Xavier’s explosion, or for him to kick me away directly. However, the expected pain didn’t come. I felt a warm, large hand grip my ankle. I opened my eyes in shock. That high and mighty Xavier, the one everyone fawned over, had actually slid down from the sofa and knelt on one knee in front of me. He took out the expensive silk handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped it around his finger, and gently, carefully wiped the toe of my shoe. The motion was tender, like he was cleaning some priceless treasure. Dead silence throughout the room. You could hear a pin drop. Jessica’s wine glass crashed to the floor with a “smash.” After wiping, Xavier looked up at me, the corner of his mouth curving into a wicked smile. His voice wasn’t loud but enough for everyone to hear. “Satisfied?” He stood and patted my head, as if soothing a startled kitten. “Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup.” I stared at him blankly. In that moment, I couldn’t tell if he was playing along or if this was his most thorough humiliation yet. But he had protected me. That much was real. The faces of those who’d been mocking me moments before now looked like they’d swallowed something sour. So did Xavier still love me?
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