Author: Momo Chan

Five years ago, my fiancé died in the line of duty. No body was ever found. But this year, on August 20th, at 8:17 PM, Captain Miller called me personally. He said they found him. They found Julian. He wasn’t dead. He was alive and well. And he was about to get married. 1 On the way to the small coastal town, Captain Miller and the other officers kept trying to prepare me. But I wouldn’t listen. I was the woman he’d chased for two years, cherished for five, and proposed to twice. How could he forget me? I rubbed the simple band on my finger. He had already asked me to marry him. How could he marry someone else? A flight, then a bus. Five hours on the bus left me dizzy and sick. After ten grueling hours, the four of us finally arrived in the town. “There,” Captain Miller said, pointing to a bed-and-breakfast called “The Sunny Spot.” The once-unknown inn had gone viral after a tourist posted a set of photos. The owner, captured in a few of the shots, had gained a legion of fans overnight. Even in profile, he was magnetic. Captain Miller glanced at me. “He doesn’t remember anything. You have to—” My gaze was locked on the door, my senses shutting down. When Captain Miller pushed the door open, a wind chime made of seashells chimed softly. Before us was a large courtyard with a cobblestone path leading to the house. A massive swing set sat in the middle of the yard, surrounded by a golden retriever and several cats. I stared at the animals, stunned. Suddenly, a figure emerged from behind a curtain of beaded shells. He was tall and lean, the muscles of his arms tight and defined beneath a black t-shirt. His profile was sharp and clean. The moment I saw him, my body froze. A tingling numbness spread down my spine, my mind buzzing. It felt as if all my bodily functions had ceased, leaving me only with the strength to stare, unblinking, at the man before me. I’d seen men who looked eighty percent like Julian, some even with the same beauty mark under their eye. But one look was all it took for me to know they weren’t him. This man, however, was different from the boy I remembered. His features were more mature, more angular, with an added layer of coldness. I moved closer, drawn by an uncontrollable force, until I could see the beauty mark under his eye, the red cord around his neck… “Ju… lian…” I choked out his name, my voice trembling, terrified of scaring him away. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with an unnerving, absolute strangeness. “What?” “Julian…” I could barely form the word. The man looked at me coldly. “Sorry, miss. You have the wrong person.” But I could be wrong about anything in this life except for Julian. He was half of my soul. Captain Miller quickly stepped in, pulling me back. “Excuse me, do you have any vacant rooms?” Julian crossed his arms, studying our group. “Yes. How many?” “Two.” “Come in.” He turned and walked back inside without a second glance. I had naively believed that the moment he saw me, he would remember. The moment he saw me, everything would be different. But he looked at me with the eyes of a stranger, sharp and laced with an annoyance at being disturbed. I hadn’t cried when I heard he was alive. I hadn’t cried when I heard he was getting married. But thinking of the look in his eyes just now, my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, threatening to burst. The tears finally came, hot and unstoppable. 2 “IDs.” Captain Miller handed over our identification cards. As the man took them, I saw it clearly: the tip of his left pinky was missing. He walked towards the counter, a slight limp in his right leg. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. Captain Miller took the room keys and had someone quickly lead me away. It took a long time before I could find my voice in the quiet of the room. “How did he… end up like this?” On the way here, I had sworn I would slap him across the face the moment I saw him. The heartless bastard. How could he forget me and marry someone else? But seeing him, all I wanted to do was hold him. I couldn’t bear to hurt him. I stayed in my room for what felt like an eternity, until Officer Davis, worried I might do something drastic, insisted I come out. Everyone was in the backyard having a barbecue. I saw him immediately, grilling skewers over the fire. Captain Miller was standing next to him, and they seemed to be getting along. “Nora? Are you feeling better?” I nodded. “Noah, let me introduce you. This is Nora,” Captain Miller said. I slowly extended my hand, fighting to keep it from shaking. “Nora Hayes. It’s nice to meet you.” His hand, warm and strong, gave mine a brief squeeze. “Noah. Nice to meet you.” It was the greeting of strangers. In that instant, my nose stung with the memory of the day he proposed. He had held me, his voice impossibly tender as he murmured, “Hello, Mrs. Archer.” It was all gone now. Looking at him, I had a million questions, but all I could manage was, “It’s beautiful here. Are you… happy?” He expertly flipped the skewers on the grill. “Yeah, it’s good,” he replied casually. That’s good. As he spoke, a chicken wing fell off the grill. He glanced towards the door. “Potato, come here.” Potato was the name of the orange tabby we had adopted together. He had named him. “He’s fat and round,” he’d said. “Let’s call him Potato.” Watching the golden retriever trot over, wagging its tail, a lump formed in my throat. “His name is Potato?” “Yeah. He’s fat and round. What else would you call him?” I turned away, secretly wiping a tear. Only he would come up with a name that simple. Once the food was ready, we all gathered around a table. I grabbed a can of beer and took a long swallow. The bitter taste filled my mouth as I watched the man across from me. The beauty mark I always teased him about was still there at the corner of his eye. The red cord was still around his neck, though I didn’t know if it was the one I had given him. Nothing felt real. Officer Davis passed out the skewers, placing a mushroom skewer on his plate. I reached for it before he could. “He can’t eat mushrooms.” Everyone at the table suddenly looked at me. As I fumbled for an explanation, a figure ran up and jumped onto Noah’s back, hugging his neck affectionately. “Noah, I missed you so much!” Noah quickly bent over, one hand protectively supporting the person on his back. “Get down,” he chided, but his tone was pure affection. He pulled the person from his back and into his arms, introducing her with a smile. “This is my fiancée, Maya.” 3 I was still holding the mushroom skewer, staring blankly at the bright, smiling girl in front of me. A sharp pain shot through my chest, as if I’d been struck by a hammer, leaving me breathless. “Hi everyone, I’m Maya, Noah’s fiancée. Welcome to Oceancrest!” Captain Miller and the others exchanged greetings. Maya was bubbly and talkative, complimenting everyone in turn. She looked at me and said, “Nora, you’re so beautiful! And so slim, I’m so jealous! Your hair is amazing too. Not like mine, I’m going bald.” She suddenly seemed to remember something and turned to the man behind her. “It’s definitely how you dry my hair. You have to be more careful, or I’ll be a bald bride next week.” Noah ruffled her hair, a fond, helpless smile on his face. “Okay.” Her eyes were so clear, untouched by hardship, and filled with excitement for her wedding. She reminded me so much of myself, back then. “A wedding?” Officer Davis asked. “Yes! It’s next Wednesday. We hope you can all be there!” I opened another beer. Maya reached for one too, but Noah snatched it away. “No.” Maya pouted. “Just one sip.” She then leaned in and, ignoring the rest of us, gave him a quick kiss. “Please, Noah? Just one little sip!” “Drink this.” He handed her a white thermos. When she opened it, the scent of roses filled the air. Maya wrinkled her nose. “Roses? Noah, I’ve told you a million times, I hate floral tea. Why do you always forget?” “I don’t know… I just make it out of habit.” Hearing his words, I turned away and drained the last of my beer. I never used to drink enough water. In high school, my voice would get so hoarse from studying aloud that I could barely speak. To get me to hydrate, Julian would make me all sorts of drinks—floral teas, fruit infusions, oolong tea. In the winter, he’d even brew me apple and pear soups. Every time I finished a glass, the proud Julian Archer would treat my pink thermos like a holy relic. Seeing me with the beer, Maya tried to bargain again. “Look, Nora’s already had a whole can. Maybe her great hair comes from drinking beer.” “You’re impossible.” I looked at the beer can in my hand and smiled bitterly. “My old boyfriend never let me drink either. I was a one-drink-wonder. He was very strict with me.” Maya looked at me. “So, he won’t get mad at you for drinking now?” I glanced at the man behind her and shook my head. “He stopped caring a long time ago.” It seemed I’d said the wrong thing. Maya looked at me apologetically and stopped pestering Noah, obediently drinking the tea from his thermos. I only ate the mushroom skewer, but I drank a lot of beer. Feeling dizzy, I excused myself. As I walked down the steps, I heard Maya’s bright laughter. I turned to look. She was clinging to Noah’s back like a koala, waving her arms and chattering away. Noah, occasionally stumbling under her weight, patiently cleared the table, looking completely used to it. Julian was never a patient person. I thought I was the only one he was patient with. I thought I was the only one he would ever love. Looking at Maya, whose face was overflowing with happiness, I clutched my chest, the pain so intense I felt like I was dying. That should have been me! The one being spoiled rotten by Julian Archer should have been me! I fought the urge to pull them apart and forced myself back to my room. I emptied my bag on the floor, frantically searching until I found my pills. I swallowed them, and the overwhelming wave of emotion finally began to recede. When Officer Davis came in, I was calm again. “I thought you were going to make a scene.” I looked out the window. “I was planning on it. But then… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” “I saw you brought a lot of things. Are you trying to help him get his memory back?” The box contained a decade of our lives: the first note he ever wrote me, his first love letter, every birthday gift from my 18th to my 28th, our first photo together, and our first wedding photo. I shook my head. “I never planned to.” Officer Davis looked at me, shocked. “Why?” Remembering the tragic death of Julian’s parents, I closed my eyes, steadying my emotions. “The pain of losing family… I don’t want him to go through that twice.” 4 The next day, I woke up late. By the time I had gotten ready and left with my sketchbook, it was well past lunchtime. Captain Miller waved me over. “Nora, we saved you some food.” Everyone was chatting around the wooden table in the courtyard. When Maya saw me, she dashed inside and came back out with an orange envelope, presenting it to me like a treasure. “Nora, we don’t have many family members. We’d be honored if you would come to our wedding.” It was a formal invitation. I took the envelope, unable to find the courage to open it. Maya urged me on. “Nora, you’re an artist. Can you tell us what you think of the design?” The single sheet of paper felt as heavy as lead. “Here, let me see. This color is beautiful,” Officer Davis said, quickly taking it. “I think so too! Noah picked the orange. I wanted purple, but the orange looks better. Nora, what’s your favorite color?” I set down my sketchbook and pointed to my own orange shirt. Before high school, I didn’t have a favorite color. Then one day, I wore an orange jacket, and Julian told me I looked beautiful in orange. From that day on, orange became my favorite color. “Nora, you and my Noah have such similar taste!” My Noah. The words grated on my ears. Once upon a time, Julian loved to introduce me as, “My Nora.” Officer Davis, noticing my expression, quickly took the invitation from my hands. “The cartoon on the inside looks just like you, Maya. It’s so cute. But is this supposed to be sunset? Is the wedding in the evening?” Maya rubbed her cheeks. “That was Noah’s idea! Because he said…” “Because some people can’t wake up in the morning,” I finished for her. Maya stared at me. “Nora! How did you know?! That’s exactly what Noah said! But the most important thing is that Noah loves sunsets.” Julian once told me that sunset was his favorite time of day, because at sunset, his Sleeping Beauty would finally become his girlfriend again. I’ve always needed a lot of sleep. Waking up at 5:30 AM in high school was pure torture. For three years, every morning, I would sit on the back of Julian’s bike, my eyes closed, my arms around him, sleeping. I could have three dreams in a ten-minute break between classes. Every time I woke up, his school jacket would be draped over me. I remember once, half-asleep, someone sighed in my ear. “You sleep so much. What am I going to do with you on our wedding day?” Years later, on my twenty-fourth birthday, I woke up to the scratch of his stubble. I pushed him away and tried to go back to sleep. He pulled me into his arms, gently patting my back, his voice hoarse with sleep. “Nora, let’s have our wedding at sunset.” I mumbled in agreement. He kissed my forehead and let out a contented sigh. “I have to make sure my little sleepyhead is well-rested. What if she gets cranky and decides not to marry me? Who would I complain to then?” And now, it wasn’t that I wouldn’t marry him; it was that he was marrying someone else. There really was no one to complain to. I picked up my sketchbook. In that moment, Maya noticed the ring on my ring finger. Following her gaze, I wiggled my finger. “Because he said the same thing.” “Are you married, Nora?” “Yes. For five years.” Maya was surprised. “Then where’s your husband? Didn’t he come with you?” I looked at the man walking towards us in the distance and gave a slight shake of my head.

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When I was 19, I dated a rich kid. I was idealistic back then, a firm believer that true love conquered all. I didn’t realize the four cruel words—class divide—could drown a person. The year we graduated, we broke up amicably. He went abroad to study finance; I went back to my village to manage greenhouses. When we met again years later, it was an awkward reunion. To fill the silence, I desperately searched for things to talk about. I asked him what our old classmates were doing now. I asked him if the stray cat we adopted together was doing well. But Liam just watched me silently. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice soft. “What about me?” “Aren’t you going to ask if I was okay these past few years?” 1 The call from Jason came when I was standing on the dirt hill at the edge of my village. The other villagers were staring at the sky, their faces etched with worry. I was trying to reassure them, telling them this was the only rain forecasted for the week, that it wouldn’t delay the watermelon harvest. That’s when my phone rang. “Rebecca, are you still messing with those stupid greenhouses? We have a huge problem! Liam’s back in the country!” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’s been on a rampage ever since he landed, trying to find you. Bro, I can’t hold him off any longer.” Hearing his name after so long, I froze. “Why is he looking for me?” Jason sounded exasperated. “What do you think? He’s still hung up on you. Everyone knew he was crazy in love with you in college. Seriously, you were cold-blooded, breaking up with him like that. You nearly drove him insane.” “You’re out here playing farmer with your damn watermelons, but Liam… he had a rough time overseas. Anyway, just watch out.” Liam. I breathed out his name. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was supposed to “watch out” for. His name had been the soundtrack to my four years of college and had haunted my dreams for three years after. I thought I would never forget him, that the memory would be etched into my soul forever. But time, it turns out, really does wash everything away. Hearing his name now, I felt surprisingly calm. “Tell him not to come. It’s not convenient.” The village’s dirt roads were a muddy mess from the rain. I was a wreck, covered in mud and holding a farming tool. I thought back to my time with Liam and politely declined. “He’ll have to take a train from the airport, then a bus, then another bus, and finally a motorcycle taxi.” “It’s too much for him. He can’t handle that kind of hardship.” 2 I wasn’t lying. Liam was the long-awaited only child in his family. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, pampered and doted on. Looks, family background, education, ability—he was a golden boy, top-tier in every way. The only hardships Liam had ever faced were because of me. I took him to a cheap, spicy noodle shop and landed him in the hospital with a high fever. The scarf I knitted for him gave him a rash that lasted a month. Liam told me it was okay, that the rash wasn’t serious. But the next day, I found the scarf in the trash. I quietly retrieved it and buried it at the bottom of my suitcase. At 10, I didn’t understand what “low-quality chocolate” meant. I only knew it was a luxury I could only have on my birthday. Just like at 19, I couldn’t tell the difference between a taxi and a Maybach. I didn’t know that one pair of Liam’s shoes cost more than my living expenses for an entire year. I had never worn an evening gown and didn’t know the first thing about social etiquette. So for every formal event at school, Liam would attend with his childhood friend, an elegant girl named Stella. He always had a reason. “Rebecca, you’re always busy with your part-time jobs. And you don’t like these kinds of parties anyway. You wouldn’t be comfortable.” The school’s social media page was filled with photos of them, looking close. Among the countless comments, one stood out: “A perfect match. They actually belong in the same world.” So, the year we graduated, we broke up. He went abroad to study finance; I went back to my village to manage greenhouses. College blurred the lines, but graduation sent us back to our respective social classes. That’s why when Jason said he was still hung up on me, I didn’t believe it. If anything, he was probably just bitter that I was the one who ended things. After all, a poor girl from a small town who got into a good school had dared to break up with the heir to a massive fortune. Everyone had laughed at me back then. They said I was playing hard to get, that I was being manipulative. They laughed at my ignorance. 3 That night, the old college group chat was buzzing. “Did you guys hear? Liam from the business school is back. He’s probably the most successful one from our year, right? He already has several companies to his name.” “Can’t be jealous of that. He was born with it. Even if he didn’t start his own businesses, the family fortune is enough for him to live lavishly forever.” “He’s handsome and successful. How can one person have it all? And Stella, I saw her movie poster today. She’s gorgeous.” The conversation quickly centered on Liam and Stella. They had been the “it” couple in college, the campus king and queen. Even after graduation, they were still a hot topic. Amidst the envy and admiration, someone typed: “Aren’t they engaged already?” The chat went silent for a second, then exploded. “Don’t spread rumors. Since when were they engaged? I haven’t heard anything about them dating.” “Well, they are childhood friends, from similar backgrounds. A lot of people shipped them back then. There was even a fan group.” “Let’s not guess. What if they’re not engaged? That would be slander.” The person who started it seemed hesitant but then posted a photo. “It’s not me saying it. Stella admitted it herself. Her family is arranging her engagement, a childhood betrothal. And people figured out that the picture she posted was taken at the Thorne family villa. Who else could it be but Liam?” The photo seemed to convince some people, but others were still skeptical. “If they had a childhood betrothal, why didn’t they announce it before? And if they were engaged, why didn’t they date in college?” “Yeah, I remember Liam’s girlfriend back then wasn’t her. That girl was an idiot. If she had just held on to Liam, she’d be a rich man’s wife by now.” “I heard she was the one who dumped him. Then he went abroad and had a really tough time, he was…” The messages stopped abruptly as people realized who was in the chat. I stared at the photo for a long time before closing the app. I was the girl they were talking about. Liam and I dated for four years, from when I was 19 to 23. I was the girlfriend who was ignored, cropped out of photos. I was the gold-digging, manipulative, innocent-looking poor girl in his friends’ eyes. I was the foolish, laughable ex-girlfriend in my classmates’ eyes. I put down my phone, not letting their words get to me. When I was younger, I was proud, and my pride was more important than my life. But now… I looked up at the sky, just praying that the price for this year’s harvest would be good. Love, and all that… none of it was as important as my watermelons. 4 My village is remote, the roads are bad, and transportation is a nightmare. Every year, the buyers who come for our watermelons use that as leverage to drive the price down. This year, we had a bumper crop, and they were trying to lowball us with a price that was frankly insulting. I was in the middle of a heated argument with a merchant over a few cents a pound when Jason’s call came through. His voice was urgent. “Liam’s really on his way to you. Be careful, don’t—” I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. Because the man he was talking about was standing right in front of me. I looked up and met a pair of silent, watching eyes. Liam was dressed in a black jacket and black leather shoes, his expression unreadable. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Neither of us spoke. The loud voice of our village mayor boomed from the doorway. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! The road is slippery from the rain. I gave that boy on the motorcycle a real talking-to. I’ll have him come apologize to you right away…” Our village roads are narrow, and motorcycles often skid and fall. The mayor was insisting the driver compensate Liam for his jacket, but Liam just waved a hand, saying it wasn’t necessary. I noticed the designer logo on the hem—a brand Liam often wore, with a price tag that would make you gasp. The kid on the motorcycle probably couldn’t afford to replace it with a year’s wages. The mayor apologized again and again, then eagerly pulled me forward. “This is Mr. Thorne, a businessman from the city! He heard our watermelons are top quality and came all this way. If this works out, he wants to sign a long-term contract and make us his official supplier. Rebecca, you have to talk to Mr. Thorne, show him the best we have to offer.” I was the only person in the village with a college degree and the one who had spearheaded the greenhouse initiative. The mayor had always valued my opinion, and I was the designated liaison with outsiders. Getting a buyer to come all this way was a huge deal, especially one from the city. The mayor’s face was flushed with excitement as he pushed me to be a good hostess. 5 I took Liam to the local clinic to get his scrapes treated. Then I arranged for him to stay in the nicest house in the village so he could shower and change. The entire time, the silence between us was deafening. Jason’s texts were making my phone vibrate nonstop, but I ignored them. I stared at the distant mountains, lost in thought. Liam said nothing. By the afternoon, I finally broke the silence. “Shredded potatoes, scrambled eggs, and that stewed chicken the mayor brought over. Is that okay for dinner?” I hesitated. “I’m sorry, the village is a bit rustic. There isn’t much to offer.” Liam finally turned to look at me. “Is this what you eat every day?” Of course not. The free-range chickens here are delicious, but the villagers rarely eat them. They sell them in town or to truck drivers passing through. A single chicken could fetch a good price. My family only ever had chicken on holidays or special occasions. This one had been stewed specifically to welcome him. When the food was on the table, Liam picked up his chopsticks and said suddenly, “You still remember I don’t eat onions.” I paused, saying nothing. Liam and I were polar opposites. I had no dietary restrictions; I loved spicy food and was always eager to try new things. He was a fitness fanatic with a bland palate. No onions, no spice, no mushrooms, no seaweed… The list was endless. Besides his family’s private chef, I was the person who knew his restrictions best. After the time I sent him to the hospital with that spicy noodle soup, I became incredibly careful about his food. I was so overwhelmed with guilt that I started working multiple part-time jobs, saving up every penny. My simple goal back then was to treat him to one meal at a high-end restaurant. It was only later that I learned that the restaurant I had researched and worked three jobs a day to afford was just an everyday occurrence for him. “Yeah, well, you don’t like them, Jason doesn’t like them, and I remember my old roommate was allergic to shellfish, and another one didn’t eat beef. I’ve always had a good memory.” The slight smile on Liam’s lips slowly faded. Maybe it was just because we hadn’t seen each other in so long, but the silence kept creeping back in. I thought about the mountains of watermelons in the greenhouses, about the hopeful look in the mayor’s eyes. If Liam was really here to source produce, I needed to smooth things over. My pride wasn’t worth jeopardizing the village’s livelihood. The past was the past. I started searching for a topic of conversation. “Do you still keep in touch with anyone from college? I wonder what they’re all doing now.” “Oh, and what about that stray cat we found by the dorms? The one you adopted. How is he? Is he doing okay?” “Have you been back to visit any of our old professors? I heard Professor Albright is retiring this year.” My voice was the only sound in the small, quiet room. I talked about our classmates, about the cat, and the memories started to surface. I rambled on for a while before I realized Liam hadn’t said a word. I trailed off, a wave of regret washing over me. I must have been talking his ear off, annoying him with all my questions. The wind rustled past the window. Liam finally looked up. He didn’t answer any of my questions. Instead, he just looked at me, his voice soft and low. “You ask about our classmates, about the cat, about our professors… what about me?” “Aren’t you going to ask if I was okay these past few years?”

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When I came back, the story was already almost over. The villain I’d raised with my own two hands, once a golden boy destined for greatness, had been broken by the story’s heroes, his fall from grace leaving him a cripple. I prodded Adrian Vance’s slumped form with the toe of my shoe, feigning indifference. “What’s this? The moment I’m gone, you let them beat you up this badly?” He snapped his head up, his eyes instantly flooding with tears. “Susie,” he choked out, his voice thick with unshed grief. “You weren’t here. They all hurt me.” I fell silent, my heart clenching. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand away as he clung to it like a drowning man. But later that night, I stumbled upon a different scene entirely. I saw him, standing in the shadows of an alley, with the story’s hero pinned under his boot. “You idiot!” Adrian’s voice was a low snarl, nothing like the broken boy from before. “I told you to make it look fatal, not to actually hold back!” A pained groan came from the man on the ground. “If I don’t bleed enough, how is my dear Susie supposed to feel sorry for me?” 1 The sharp shatter of a glass echoed through the penthouse suite, mingling with ragged, wet gasps for air. Through the crack in the slightly ajar door, I saw him—a young man whose features were so exquisitely sharp they were almost unnerving. He was sprawled on a scarlet velvet sofa, his black shirt violently torn open, revealing the delicate line of his collarbone. His normally porcelain skin was flushed with an unnatural, feverish heat, his breaths coming in heavy pants. Crimson blood trickled from his wrist, a stark, winding river against his pale skin. “Adrian…” The moment I spoke his name, he froze. His blood-flecked eyelashes trembled, and when he swallowed, the movement pulled at the ugly, purple fingerprints blooming on his neck. He turned his head slowly, mechanically, as if terrified of waking from a beautiful dream. The second his eyes landed on me, Adrian’s pupils constricted. The raw fury on his face vanished, replaced by utter shock. “Susie?” That single, trembling word, thick with tears, sent a blade of agony straight through my heart. It was the same sound he’d made five years ago, when I was forced to leave this world. He’d wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck, his small body wracked with sobs. “Is Susie going to throw me away, too?” Now, he staggered to his feet, only to collapse heavily onto the carpet of shattered glass. I instinctively rushed forward, but he scrambled back into the corner of the sofa, dissolving into a fit of violent coughs. Dark red liquid dripped through his fingers. He tried to hide his hand, his sweat-soaked hair clinging to his pale face. He looked like a broken porcelain doll. “Dirty…” he rasped. “I’ll get you dirty.” “Who did this?” I knelt, hearing my own voice tremble. In the original novel, his right-hand injury was just a passing mention. But the wound before me was a horrific gash of peeled-back flesh, deep enough to show the bone beneath. He suddenly let out a low chuckle. His thin shoulder blades fluttered with the sound, like the wings of a broken butterfly. “Susie, when you’re not here, everyone bullies me.” He tilted his face up, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “I listened to you. I tried to be good, I really did. So why… why are they still doing this to me?” His voice cracked. “They said you abandoned me. That an unwanted kid like me deserves whatever happens to him.” My heart seized. In the original story, Adrian Vance was a cruel, possessive, and dangerously unstable villain. He and the hero, Eric Cole, had grown up together in the same orphanage, once the best of friends. But through a twist of fate, Eric was adopted by a wealthy couple in Adrian’s place, whisked away to a life of privilege. Adrian, however, was adopted by a vile predator hiding behind a respectable facade. After suffering unspeakable abuse, he escaped and lived on the streets. He grew to believe Eric had stolen the life that was meant to be his, and he became the villain who antagonized the hero at every turn. When I was first pulled into this book, I found sixteen-year-old Adrian and took him in. My mission was to save him from his bleak fate, to rewrite his ending. Once my mission was complete, the System that brought me here forced me to leave. Until last night, when it contacted me again. It told me that Adrian’s world was on the verge of collapse because a key character had gone off the rails. It needed me to go back and fix it. But I didn’t understand. Under my guidance, Adrian had become a model student, a kind and brilliant young man. Why hadn’t the plot changed? He was still cornered by the heroes, beaten down, and nearly broken. To make matters worse, the System had gone silent. No matter how much I called out, it wouldn’t respond. What the hell was going on? According to the original plot, tonight was the night he’d be drugged and finally snap, embracing his dark side completely. But the boy in front of me, his eyes filled with nothing but confusion and helplessness, was still the same little stray cat I’d taken in off the streets. Before I could think any further, Adrian’s suppressed sobs, like those of a caged animal, pulled me back to reality. My resolve shattered. Overwhelmed with a fierce, aching tenderness, I pulled him into my arms. “I didn’t abandon you,” I whispered into his hair. “I’m back now.” “Then… will you help me?” His eyes suddenly lit up, and he pressed his damp forehead into the crook of my shoulder, nuzzling against me. “What do you need me to do?” I heard the rasp in my own voice. “It’s so hot.” A soft, kitten-like whimper escaped his throat as he guided my hand to his body. A trail of desperate kisses landed on the side of my neck. My breath hitched— My palm was suddenly pressed against a searing heat. I flinched back, but his hand clamped around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, his body flush against mine. “Susie,” he breathed, his voice a raw plea. 2 The next morning, I woke up feeling like every joint in my body had been pulled apart. My wrist ached so much I could barely get dressed. The doorbell rang several times before I managed to drag myself to the door, leaning against the wall for support. “Adrian…” I mumbled, assuming he was back. But the face on the other side of the door was a stranger. “Can I help you?” “Hello,” the man said. His coat was expensive, his posture impeccable. “My name is Eric Cole. If I’m not mistaken, you’re Susie, Adrian’s sister. Is that right?” It took me a second to place the name. Eric Cole. The hero. “What do you want?” My voice was instantly laced with hostility. Eric seemed taken aback, a flicker of hurt crossing his handsome features. “I just came to warn you. Adrian isn’t as harmless as he looks.” He stepped inside. “It’s all an act he puts on for you. Especially after you disappeared five years ago. He went… unhinged. He did some truly terrible things.” On the coffee table, Eric pushed a manila folder toward me. “This is the proof of how he’s been targeting my company for years. Just last week, he orchestrated a hostile takeover of three of my subsidiaries. Those news reports about his fall from grace, about him being chronically ill? That’s all carefully crafted PR he spread himself.” His voice grew urgent. “The truth is, I’m not the one bullying him. He’s the one who won’t let me go.” The pages were filled with dense columns of data and figures. I set my teacup down on the table with a sharp clack. “Mr. Cole, I think you should leave.” My voice was cold. “With your resources, faking these documents would be easy. Regardless of what you show me, I’ll only trust what I see with my own eyes.” Eric stood up, his gaze intense. “Susie, he’s playing you.” I frowned. “I’m not your sister. Please don’t call me that.” Eric’s mouth opened, then closed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “I got ahead of myself. I’m not trying to cause trouble, I swear. I’m just worried about your safety. Adrian’s mental state is incredibly unstable. He’s even been known to self-harm.” I snatched the folder and threw it at his chest. “Are you trying to tell me he drugged himself? That he cut himself up like that?” My voice rose, shaking with fury. “Eric Cole, let me tell you something! If you dare touch Adrian again, I will drag you to hell myself!” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face. “I swear, I didn’t do anything. If you don’t believe me, you can verify all of this yourself. I’m just worried about you!” The folder fell to the floor, spilling its contents. Several photos scattered across the rug. The images were unmistakable: Adrian, holding a shard of glass to his own arm, cutting deep. The wounds were identical to the ones I’d just bandaged. My breath caught in my throat. I blinked slowly, then bent down to pick one up. Just then, the electronic lock beeped. “Susie, I bought you your favorite cake! The shop downtown was closed, so I had to run across seven blocks to…” Adrian’s excited voice died the moment his eyes fell on Eric. The air in the room went still. Soaked from the rain, Adrian stood frozen in the entryway’s shadow, the cake box in his arms perfectly pristine. He lowered his head, raindrops clinging to his trembling eyelashes. My fingers went slack, and the photograph fluttered to the floor. “Adrian, listen to me…” His gaze dropped to the photo at my feet. He looked like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. He walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his eyes rimmed with red. “Susie… even you don’t believe me?” “Adrian!” Eric lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. “Stop the act! That illegal shipment at the docks last month—” “Enough!” I shoved myself between them, shielding Adrian. “Go get changed,” I told him gently. Then I turned to Eric. “And you, please leave. I don’t want to see you again.” Eric’s hand fell away, but his eyes never left my face. “Susie… you held my hand once, a long time ago,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you really not remember me?” I froze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my mind. “Do I know you?” Adrian looked up at him, his voice trembling. “Eric, she’s all I have left. Are you trying to take her from me, too?” 3 I sent Eric away. Adrian clung to me like a frightened animal, refusing to let go. I gently stroked his hair. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “He didn’t fool me. I’ll always believe you.” He made a soft, whimpering sound before reluctantly pulling away. “Then… you wait here, okay? I’m just going to run down to the convenience store for a spoon. I was in such a hurry to get back that I forgot.” “Okay, go on.” “Wait! You forgot your umbrella again.” But he was already out the door, moving too fast. By the time the words left my mouth, he was gone. With a helpless sigh, I grabbed a coat and went after him. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the world into a gray watercolor. I stood at the intersection, scanning the street for any sign of him. Through the throng of people, I saw a familiar silhouette turn down a narrow alley. I hurried to follow. As I got closer, I heard the sickening thud of something heavy hitting a wall. Adrian’s voice, laced with a chilling amusement, drifted through the downpour. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Eric?” I instinctively slowed my steps, my blood turning to ice. The sight before me made me freeze. Rain slicked his skin, a single drop tracing the sharp line of his throat before disappearing into his collar. His white shirt was plastered to his torso, revealing the faint outline of the bandages I’d wrapped around him. He stood there, his expression blank, and brought his foot down, grinding the heel of his leather shoe onto Eric Cole’s fingers. Eric’s face contorted in agony as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. “I knew it,” he was saying to Adrian. “I knew you were just putting on a show for her.” Adrian’s eyes turned venomous. “Shh,” he whispered, pressing the sharp tip of a fountain pen to Eric’s throat. “Only I get to call her that.” He tilted his head, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips. “Didn’t I tell you? You touch what’s mine…” Eric flinched away, and in that split second, our eyes met. I stumbled back behind the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. I couldn’t be sure if he’d recognized me through the storm. Eric’s clenched fist slowly uncurled. He lowered his gaze, a nearly imperceptible smirk touching his lips. Adrian let out a cold snort. “What’s the matter? Scared? You’re so weak today. Weren’t you the one who almost threw me off a roof last time?” The next thing I heard was Eric’s voice, suddenly frail and broken. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who’s been beating me up this whole time!” He dissolved into a fit of hacking coughs. “It hurts… somebody… somebody, please help me!” 4 The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance shattered the raindrops into a million silver shards. I stood at the mouth of the alley, clutching my phone as paramedics carefully loaded Eric onto a stretcher. His dark lashes fluttered weakly against his pale skin. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. “The patient has multiple metacarpal fractures from a crush injury. We need to get him to surgery immediately,” a nurse called out, her voice cutting through the roar of the rain. Three of Eric’s fingers were bent at an unnatural angle. The gash on his forehead, washed clean by the rain, looked ghostly white. I felt a tremor run through me and had to look away. A strange, sour ache bloomed in my chest. Could I have been wrong about him? I felt a scorching gaze on my back and turned. An umbrella suddenly appeared over my head. It was Adrian. He positioned it carefully, completely blocking my view of Eric and the ambulance. “Susie? What are you doing here?” he asked, his breathing ragged. His black hair was plastered to his forehead. My eyes flicked to the cuff of his gray sweatshirt. There was a dark, reddish stain there, blurred by the rain, that looked suspiciously like blood. I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “I was waiting for you for too long. I got worried, so I came out to find you.” For a split second, Adrian’s expression stiffened. “The rain was so heavy, I had to buy another umbrella. That’s what took so long,” he said, his face smoothing back into its usual, obedient mask. He smiled. “Susie. I knew you loved me the most.” A paramedic with a clipboard approached us. “Ma’am, are you the one who called for the ambulance?” Adrian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. The sound of the rain suddenly seemed deafening. I heard my own voice, calm and steady. “Yes. I saw someone was hurt.” The paramedic asked a few more routine questions, then nodded politely. “Okay, we understand. Thank you for your cooperation.” Throughout the entire exchange, Adrian was unnervingly silent, as if someone had hit his mute button. I didn’t look at him again. I just turned and walked away. On the way back to the hotel, Adrian trailed half a step behind me. The silence between us was heavy and suffocating. The elevator’s mirrored walls reflected his downcast profile, water dripping from his lashes like tears. I stared at the glowing red numbers as they climbed. “Adrian, why did you attack Eric?” “I didn’t go for the kill,” he said flatly. “I just wanted to scare him, to make him stay away from you. But then he grabbed a brick from the ground and smashed his own hand with it.” I closed my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “Adrian, from what I remember, Eric has been a concert pianist for ten years. With the injuries he sustained tonight, he might never be able to play again. No musician would risk their entire career like that.” In the original novel, Eric’s musical talent was legendary. He’d won countless piano competitions since he was in middle school. The only sound in the elevator was our breathing. Suddenly, Adrian grabbed my wrist. His fingertips were as cold as ice, and his dark eyes were turbulent. “Susie, are you saying you think I’m lying?” The elevator dinged, arriving at the 28th floor. I gently pulled my hand from his grasp and stepped out first. “Adrian,” I said, not looking back. “I just can’t figure out what his motive would be for hurting himself. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” There were no cameras in that alley. Eric would have no grounds to accuse Adrian of assault. So why would he do something so self-destructive?

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Locked in the villain’s mansion, I finally snapped and slapped him. The delicate golden chains on my wrist chimed mockingly. Instantly, a stream of comments flooded my vision: [Is this villainess blind? Who else in this entire story actually gives a damn about her besides Ross?] [LMAO, she only has eyes for the hero. Can’t wait to see how spectacularly she screws this up for herself.] I stared, confused. The comments froze for a second, then exploded with renewed intensity: [WHOA, hang on. Nobody told me the villainess looked like *that*?!] [Ross, you idiot! A woman who looks like this, and you’re not on your knees for her yet?! If you won’t, I will!] [Baby, don’t reward him! He’s a total creep, I’m afraid he’s gonna lick your hand!] Before the thought even finished, I felt a sudden, wet warmth spread across my palm. 1 My eyes went wide. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned. Ross Bowen adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice a low rumble. “Done yet?” The muscles under his tailored suit were a testament to coiled power—broad shoulders, a lean waist. He projected an aura of cold, detached authority. You’d never guess this was the man who had just licked my palm. I lost my nerve. My hand balled into a fist at my side as I glared at him, all my fight gone. In the city, whispers and rumors clung to Ross Bowen like a second skin. An MIT prodigy, a special forces operative at twenty-two, and by twenty-four, the undisputed king of the Bowen empire. My most vivid memory of him, however, was from a family gala last year. I was still with my ex-fiancé then. I’d accidentally picked up Ross’s medical report and my eyes had latched onto a single, damning line: Erectile Dysfunction. I’d looked up, my brain short-circuiting. “Uh, Uncle Ross… you… you can’t…?” The words were stuck in my throat. “You’re… out of order?” Ross had calmly taken the report from my numb fingers, not a hint of shame in his voice. “An old injury from my time in the service.” “Can it… can it still be used?” He considered this for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his lips. “It works when I’m with someone I really, really like.” My mind was a complete blank. “Ha, um, okay, well, that’s great. Hope you can use it soon.” I nearly bit my tongue off. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I hope you find someone you like soon.” And now, in a cruel twist of fate, that boomerang had come right back and hit me. I rattled the chains on my wrist, my voice full of impotent rage. “When are you going to let me out of here?” Ross’s tone turned to ice. “What’s the rush? Eager to run back to your ex-fiancé?” I thought for a moment, then answered seriously, “No. You kidnapped me so suddenly, I didn’t even get a chance to quit my job at the diner.” 2 I was Scarlett Vance, heiress to the Vance fortune, raised on champagne and caviar with a handsome, childhood-sweetheart fiancé by my side. Then came my twentieth birthday party, one month ago. A scholarship student from my university, a girl I barely knew, showed up at my family’s estate. In front of all our guests, she dropped to her knees with a dramatic thud, her voice choked with tears. “Miss Vance, why did you frame me for stealing your gold necklace? I’m so sorry, I can’t possibly afford to pay it back. Please, let me work as a maid in your house to repay my debt!” I just stared at her, dumbfounded. First of all, who the hell are you? And second, I’m Scarlett Vance. I wear diamonds, not gold. Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, she promptly fainted in the middle of our grand hall. She was rushed to the hospital in a flurry of chaos. And then, the tests came back. Oh, joy. A DNA match with my mother. It turned out she was the real Vance heiress. I was the impostor. My parents turned on me, their faces contorted with rage. “You little curse! If it wasn’t for your wicked heart, stealing Chloe’s rightful place, we would never have been separated from our real daughter for so long!” My fiancé, Kevin, stood by with a cold sneer. “I was so wrong about you. Chloe is kind and resilient. You’re not even worthy of being compared to her.” And just like that, on a freezing December night, I was thrown out of the Vance mansion without so much as a winter coat. I rubbed my arms, sighing into the cold air. Well, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. I wasn’t about to starve. Become a barista? I heard the pay was decent. Or maybe a waitress at a 24-hour diner? At least I could probably crash there at night. The diner was the more practical choice. And so, after serving three hundred cups of burnt coffee and a hundred greasy hot dogs, a black Maybach purred to a stop right outside. My ex-fiancé’s uncle, the true power behind the Bowen family, Ross Bowen himself, stepped out. He stood before me, holding a black umbrella against the sleet, every inch the aristocrat in his bespoke suit. “Scarlett Vance,” he said, his voice cool and detached. “You’re coming with me.” I expertly ripped the plastic film off a cup of instant noodles and poured in hot water. “You’re the thirteenth old guy this month who’s tried to make me his sugar baby. Take a number and get in line.” A deep frown creased Ross’s brow, his presence suddenly menacing. “Other men have been bothering you?” He gave a sharp nod. One of his bodyguards stepped forward. “Miss Vance, my apologies.” And then, as I kicked and squirmed, they stuffed me into the back of the Maybach and sped off into the night. 3 Ross locked me away in his forest villa, a sprawling estate that commanded its own private mountain. Our food was flown in daily by helicopter. The first time I tried to escape, he simply locked the massive front gates. I screamed at him. “You old pervert! Robbing the cradle, kidnapping your nephew’s ex… Aren’t you afraid your ancestors will crawl out of their graves to haunt you?!” In reality, Ross was only twenty-six, just six years older than me. He looked up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Still thinking about that useless nephew of mine?” The antique bronze key turned over and over in his palm, as if he were stroking someone’s skin. “He got engaged to the real Vance heiress last week, you know,” Ross said, his voice a silken drawl. “Swore up and down that you had deceived him, and that she was the only one he could ever marry.” I sulked, my lower lip pushed out. That night, I drowned my sorrows in two servings of foie gras, a steak, and a lamb chop. Go on, lock me up, I thought, chewing furiously. I’ll eat you into bankruptcy. The third time I tried to escape, Ross finally lost his patience. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his light brown eyes were like cold, hard gems. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Scarlett?” And that’s when he fastened the thin, solid-gold chain to my wrist. It chimed with every movement, a stark contrast against my pale skin. Furious, I slapped him. And that’s when I saw the comments. [Snowy skin, cherry cheeks, round eyes… OMG, baby, you’re a little ragdoll cat. I wanna kiss you all over!] [Woah, baby, don’t slap him! His face is thick enough to handle it, but what if you hurt your precious little hand?] [Can’t you see he’s secretly loving it? Getting his face touched by your hand… you just made his day, you lucky bastard.] I puffed out my cheeks. “I’ve seen your medical report, you know. You’re broken. What’s the point of this whole ‘kept woman in a gilded cage’ act? You might as well just let me go.” A low chuckle escaped him. His impossibly long fingers, the tips calloused from his time in the service, flickered in front of my face before he gently pinched my cheek. “Who ever said,” he murmured, his touch sending a shiver down my spine, “that’s the only part of me that works?” It took a second for his meaning to sink in. When it did, my face erupted in a fiery blush. How could anyone be so shamelessly crude?! I didn’t dare hit him again; I was afraid he’d lick my hand. I didn’t dare kick him; I was afraid he’d grab my foot. And I certainly didn’t dare curse him out; I was afraid he’d actually enjoy it. Who said I was the villainess in this story? I was the victim here! Weak, helpless, and trembling in my designer boots. I spun around in frustration. “Ross, weren’t you supposed to be expanding your business overseas? What are you even doing back here?” He lowered his gaze to look at me. It was then that I noticed how long his eyelashes were, dark and thick like a raven’s wing. When he looked down like that, it created an illusion of profound, heart-stopping affection. “I came back for you.” The comments provided a more detailed explanation: [It’s because of you, you little idiot! If the big boss didn’t come back, you were going to starve to death in that diner!] [Baby, do you remember that charity event when you were a kid? The little boy at the orphanage? That was a baby Ross.] [He was so skinny his bones were sticking out, covered in cuts and bruises. You were the one who bandaged him up, comforted him, and gave him candy. You were his only salvation.] [His backstory is tragic, tbh. His older brother was a screw-up, so his psycho dad dragged him, the illegitimate son, out of the orphanage to be the family’s new workhorse. All that pressure fell on him.] [He worked himself to the bone, achieving in a few years what takes others decades, all so he could be free from his family and be with you.] [He fought tooth and nail to become the head of the Bowen family, and when he finally came back for you… oops. The love of his life was engaged to his nephew.] [Heartbroken, our guy left the country and even signed up for a high-risk assignment in a war zone, basically trying to get himself killed. Almost lost his… little brother… in the process, LMAO.] [So of course, when he heard the treasure of his heart was being bullied, he had to rush back and save the day.] Ross and I… we had a history like that? I stared at him, my eyelashes fluttering, a blush creeping up my neck. “You… you like me?” Ross just watched me, his gaze steady. The light from the chandelier pooled in his eyes, turning them into a shimmering lake. He smiled, and the lake rippled. “I’ve been in love with you for sixteen years.” An uncontrollable heat flooded my face, starting at my cheeks and spreading to the tips of my ears. “Then… then why? You’ve had me locked in this villa for so long, but besides that one time I slapped you, you haven’t even laid a finger on me.” The moment the words were out, I clamped my hands over my mouth. But it was too late. The color of Ross’s eyes deepened to a stormy amber. In one smooth motion, he scooped me up and laid me down on the sofa. He tugged on the chain attached to my wrist, making it impossible for me to struggle. And then, his lips were on mine. It was a soft, trembling, impossibly gentle kiss. Just a light press of his lips against mine, nothing more. It was nothing like the predator I thought he was. My body trembled uncontrollably, my heart hammering against my ribs. His kiss was lighter than a butterfly’s wing, and it tickled. I instinctively licked my lips. Ross’s breath hitched. The next moment, the kiss became a storm, a hurricane that swept me off my feet, leaving the whole world shaking. I don’t know how long it was before he finally let me go. His long fingers traced the outline of my mouth, wiping away the moisture. His voice was a low, magnetic hum. “So you like it rough, hmm?” 4 I fled. Scrambling back to my room, I buried my head under the covers like an ostrich, my face burning. All I could see were the comments scrolling through my vision. [Ross’s fingers are so long. Anyone else get that? Hehe.] [Don’t be fooled by his self-control now. The man can take pills, you know!] [And let’s not forget he’s a legit special forces vet. Those pecs, those abs, that V-line… Damn. I’m seriously worried he’s going to wear our baby girl out.] [AHHHH SHUT UP!! AS A MOM-FAN, I DO NOT APPROVE!!!!] My face grew even hotter. What were they even talking about? I couldn’t understand a word. Besides, Ross couldn’t perform! The most he could do was kiss me a little. What else was there?! A soft jingle brought me back to reality. The chain was still on my wrist. It was solid gold and surprisingly heavy, making everything awkward. After an hour of tossing and turning, during which the chain slapped me in the face three times, I finally shot up in bed. Fueled by a fresh wave of indignation, I stormed back to Ross’s room. “You old pervert, take this thing off me!” The words died in my throat. I froze in the doorway, taking in the scene before me. A cloud of steam, tinged with the scent of sandalwood, hung in the air. Ross had just taken a cold shower. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, and he turned his head at the sound of my voice. He wasn’t even wearing a towel. Droplets of water traced a path down the sleek muscles of his chest, over the hard planes of his abs. They glistened on his skin, sliding down his taut waist. And lower… I nearly jumped out of my skin, my face hot enough to fry an egg. Words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I thought you couldn’t use that?!” A slow, dangerous smile spread across Ross’s face. He walked toward me, a wave of cold air and sandalwood washing over me. His calloused fingertips, still damp, brushed against my cheek, a feather-light, wicked touch. “I told you,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl, “it works when I see someone I really like.” I gaped at him, sputtering “you-you-you” without forming a complete sentence. I snatched the key from his hand and fumbled with the lock on my wrist, my hands shaking. All the while, he just stood there, watching me with a smug, knowing smile, not helping, not touching. Yet his presence, that scent of sandalwood and cold water, was more overwhelming than any touch could be. Click. The chain fell away. This time, I ran from his room even faster than before. My heart pounded against my ribs, my mouth bone dry. I had to down three glasses of iced tea before I could even begin to calm down. Only one thought remained in my head. Thank God… thank God Ross was broken. Because with hardware like that… I might not have survived the night. 5 The leaves outside the window grew lush and green, the cicadas a constant hum. Before I knew it, a month had passed. After that one heart-stopping kiss, Ross hadn’t touched me again. It was summer break, so I had no school to attend, and he seamlessly monopolized all of my time. The villa was enormous, equipped with a home theater, a game room, and a full gym. I could spend hours just rolling around on the tatami mats. The backyard was a sprawling lawn with stables, tennis courts, and a golf course. Whenever I wanted to go out, a helicopter would be waiting to fly me to the most exclusive shopping district in the city. He’d book out entire department stores for me, swipe his card for an eight-figure sum, and then we’d fly back, loaded with bags. My days were filled with perfectly balanced meals, eight hours of sleep, and the freedom to go anywhere and do anything I wanted. After a month of being “imprisoned,” I looked healthier than ever—my skin was glowing, my eyes bright. No one would ever believe I was the same fake heiress who had been thrown out of her home just a month ago. So when the invitation arrived, I was stunned. “A banquet to welcome the true heiress back to the Vance family… why would they invite me?” Ross flipped the invitation over. “Chloe specifically requested you. She probably wants to show off.” Chloe. The real heiress. “Do you want to go?” he asked. I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

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Three years into my marriage with Rico Thorne, the crown prince of the city’s elite, I got pregnant. He stared at me, his jaw clenched tight. “I haven’t so much as laid a finger on you. How the hell are you pregnant?” I lowered my eyes. “You did… on your birthday. You were drunk, and you thought I was your first love…” To make it up to me, Rico wired half a million dollars to my account and started treating me like a fragile queen. The day his first love returned to the country, I removed the prosthetic belly, left a signed divorce agreement on the table, and vanished. Six months later, he cornered me in a VIP lounge, a male model draped on each of my arms. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “My dear wife,” he purred. “You’ve led me on quite a chase.” 1 When I called Rico to tell him I was pregnant, the silence on the other end of the line stretched for three full minutes. “Where are you?” His voice was tight. “City General.” When he saw the pregnancy test report, with my name printed clearly on it, confirming I was six weeks along, Rico’s face twisted into a mask of disbelief. He turned his head slowly, his eyes boring into me, his voice a low growl. “Nora Evans? I’ve never even touched you, and you’re telling me you’re pregnant?” The nurse standing nearby shot me a look of pure shock, then glanced at the top of Rico’s head with a newfound sympathy. I dropped my gaze, biting my lip hard, my expression a carefully crafted picture of hurt. “You did…” I whispered. “On your birthday… you were so drunk… you thought I was Monica…” The nurse’s sympathetic gaze instantly shifted from him to me. Rico’s dark eyes were stormy, unreadable. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “If you’re pregnant, then you’ll have the baby.” “The Thorne family will take care of you.” That evening, my bank account was half a million dollars richer. A wire from Rico. Compensation, he called it. Three years ago, the Thorne family had pressured Rico into an arranged marriage. He chose me, fresh out of college. Sweet, simple, and most importantly, desperate for cash. In the three years I’d been his wife, I’d played my part perfectly. I was the dutiful Mrs. Thorne, never causing trouble, never making waves. We were husband and wife in name only. I’d always known Rico was in love with someone else. Which is why, in three years of marriage, he had never once touched me. And I absolutely loved it. No nine-to-five grind, no soul-crushing corporate life. I got paid just for existing in his mansion. On top of my monthly “salary” of fifteen thousand dollars, Rico would frequently take me on lavish shopping sprees. It was all for show, to keep up appearances for the Thorne family, but he never asked for any of it back. The designer clothes, the jewelry, the handbags—they were all mine. This sweet deal was supposed to last for another two years. But then, a couple of weeks ago, on his birthday, he’d gotten wasted and mistaken me for his first love… And that led to this. I asked Rico not to tell his family about the pregnancy just yet. “It’s still early,” I said, my voice soft. “Let’s not get their hopes up, just in case. We can tell them after the first trimester, once everything is stable.” He saw the logic in that and agreed. After the “news,” Rico started spending significantly more time at the villa. The man who used to show up twice a month was now home two or three times a week. He was also a nervous wreck, hovering over me constantly, terrified I might trip or bump my stomach. He’d stare at my perfectly flat belly and ask, “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” One day, tired of the question, I answered flippantly, “A boy.” He sulked for the entire evening. I found out later he’d always wanted a daughter. After two weeks of being treated like royalty, his first love came back. The day Monica Ferguson returned, Rico paced the length of the villa, a caged tiger. “Aren’t you going to the airport to meet her?” I asked. He shot me a hesitant look. I gave him a gentle, understanding smile. “It’s okay. The baby and I are very generous.” That was all the permission he needed. The moment his car pulled out of the driveway, I bolted upstairs to grab the suitcase I’d packed weeks ago. I left the signed divorce agreement on the coffee table and made my escape. I caught a late-night flight to the next state over and laid low at a friend’s place for half a year. Finally, after months of coaxing, my friend convinced me to go out. We ended up at a high-end club, where I hired two young, gorgeous models to keep me company. There I was, basking in the attention, a handsome young man on each arm, when the door to our private suite was kicked open. The man standing in the doorway was radiating a glacial fury. He just stood there, his gaze locked on me. After a long, silent moment, a faint, chilling smile touched his lips. “My dear wife,” he said. “You’ve led me on quite a chase.” 2 A bone-deep chill settled over the room, the silence thick with unspoken threats. Rico leisurely took a seat on the main sofa, gesturing toward me with a slight tilt of his chin. His voice was a low rumble. “Come here.” I cursed my traitorous legs. Even after six months, my body still obeyed him without question. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. His hand came to rest on my flat stomach. “Where’s my son?” he asked, his tone deceptively light. I kept my head down, guilt coiling in my gut. “I… I miscarried.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Did you miscarry, Nora? Or was there never a baby to begin with?” Game over. The jig was up. Rico was right. I was never pregnant. The report was a fake. The whole point was to squeeze some extra cash out of him. I wouldn’t have been in such a rush, but Monica was coming back. A few days before Rico’s birthday, she’d sent him a message. “Rico, I’m coming home soon! We can celebrate your birthday when I get back! xoxo” My original deal with Rico was for five years. A fake marriage, fifteen grand a month. After five years, I would walk away with just under a million dollars. But with Monica’s return, our divorce was imminent. I did the math—I was about to lose out on over three hundred thousand dollars! I couldn’t let that happen. So, I used his drunken birthday as an excuse to stage a fake pregnancy and cash in. He was definitely drunk that night. But he came home and passed out immediately. No drunken rampage, no mistaking me for Monica. Nothing. My shoulders slumped. “Mr. Thorne, I’m so sorry. I was wrong.” He tilted my chin up with his finger, his touch slow and deliberate. “Nora, what you did is called fraud.” “I could have you arrested.” I made a last-ditch effort. “We can work this out! That half a million—I haven’t touched a cent. I can give it all back.” Honestly, I’d been too busy hiding from him to spend it. “I don’t want the money,” he said, his eyes cold as ice. “Then what do you want?” “I want my son.” I was dragged back to the villa. As he put it, you can’t un-spill water. Or un-give money. Since he’d already given it to me, there was no taking it back. But now, since I’d taken the money, I owed him a son. I rolled my eyes. “What do you think I am, some kind of single-celled organism? You think I can just reproduce on my own?” He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, after all these years of marriage, you still haven’t fulfilled your… wifely duties, have you?” I clutched my chest protectively. “Rico Thorne! We had a deal! My body wasn’t part of it!” He nodded slowly. “And our deal never said you’d try to extort me with a phantom child, did it?” Damn it. My own brilliant plan had backfired spectacularly. I was trapped. That night, when I came out of the shower, Rico was already in bed, shirtless. He lifted the covers, his eyes commanding me to join him. “Wh-what are you doing?” He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “Making a son.” “But…” I hesitated. “It’s that time of the month.” The smile vanished from his face. A second later, he was out of bed, scooping me up into his arms. His brow furrowed. “And you’re walking around barefoot on a cold floor? Aren’t you cramping?” He gently placed me on the bed, then called for Mrs. Gable to bring up a thermos of ginger tea sweetened with honey. He watched me drink the entire mug before the tension in his shoulders finally eased. I have terrible menstrual cramps. Every month, a few days are pure misery. I was surprised he’d remembered such a small detail. After the hot, sweet tea, the ache in my stomach did subside. “Thank you,” I said, genuinely. He just snorted and turned his back to me. “Are you… sleeping here tonight?” I asked, confused. A large arm reached out, pulling me into his embrace, his actions answering for him. The clock on the wall read midnight. Rico was clearly exhausted. I didn’t say another word, just carefully tucked the blanket around him and drifted off to sleep. It was the first time Rico and I had ever shared a bed. Surprisingly, I slept better than I had in months. The next morning, he was gone, already at the office. After I’d showered and eaten, I was planning to spend the morning lazing around in the garden when a visitor arrived. I recognized her immediately. Rico’s first love, Monica Ferguson. She was here to see me. She was the classic damsel-in-distress type, with a gentle, sweet demeanor, dressed in a flowing white dress. Mrs. Gable clearly knew her, calling her “Miss Monica.” In the garden, I sat on the swing while she stood by the fountain. “Miss Evans, my name is Monica Ferguson. I was Rico’s first love,” she began. “I came back to take care of some… unfinished business.” She took a deep breath. “I have terminal stomach cancer. I’m dying.” Her last sentence shattered my composure. A tragic soul. I got up and walked over to her, taking her hand in mine. “Miss Ferguson, you’ve misunderstood. Rico and I may be married, but we’re not in love. The person he loves has always been you.” She looked at me, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes. “Really?” “Really.” 3 During my first year of marriage to Rico, I discovered a room in the villa that was strictly off-limits to everyone. Not even Mrs. Gable, who had worked for the Thornes for over a decade, was allowed inside. One time, using the excuse of bringing him a plate of fruit, I managed to sneak a peek. My God. It was covered in photographs. An entire room, a shrine to one woman, from her high school days to the present. I later found out that woman was Monica Ferguson. They met in high school and dated for four years in college. Rico had once sworn he would marry no one else. But then, Monica left for another country, leaving him with nothing but a curt “we’re over.” For the first year after she left, Rico practically drowned himself in alcohol. Time eventually healed some of the wound, but his love for Monica never faded. The reason he’d picked me out of all the other candidates for his sham marriage? I had been wearing my hair in a high ponytail and was dressed in a white dress. Monica’s signature look. He chose me because I looked like her. Monica was even more surprised to hear this. “He sees you as my substitute? And you’re not angry about that?” I smiled. “I’m not in love with him. Why would I be angry? He provides the money, I provide my time. It’s a fair trade.” We were talking about nearly a million dollars. Most people couldn’t earn that in a lifetime. All I had to do was give up five years of my youth, without even selling my body. It was a steal! Thinking about it, my face fell into a worried expression. “But you came back early. I might not get the full amount now.” She was sharp. She got it instantly. “How much are you losing?” “Around three hundred thousand.” “I’ll give it to you.” My eyes lit up. Now that was an offer I couldn’t refuse! That was perfect. That night, I cooked an elaborate dinner for Rico. When he got home, I was waiting at the door, eagerly taking his coat. I pulled out his chair, placed a perfectly seared medium-rare steak in front of him, and poured him half a glass of red wine. Rico raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?” I gestured for him to drink. He took a small sip. “You’ve gone to all this trouble. What are you after?” I cleared my throat. “Rico, I cheated on you.” In that instant, the villa became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The hand holding his wine glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He looked terrifying. My legs felt like jelly. “Rico… let’s get a divorce,” I managed to stammer out, getting to the point. His eyes darkened. After a long moment, he masked all emotion, methodically finished his steak, and even drank the rest of the wine. Then, he took my hand, his grip unyielding, and dragged me upstairs to the bedroom. He threw me onto the sofa, loosened his tie, and his voice was heavy. “So, for three hundred thousand dollars, you sold me out to Monica?” The air rushed out of my lungs. Damn it! He knew everything! Of course he did. This was his house. He must have eyes and ears everywhere. Oh God, did that mean he knew about all the times I’d badmouthed him behind his back? Whatever. That wasn’t important right now. I sat up straight. “Well, since you already know, I’ll drop the act. Monica’s back. A divorce is exactly what you want, isn’t it?” A vein throbbed in his temple. “Nora, why do you think I went to so much trouble to find you and bring you back?” “Isn’t it because I tricked you with the fake pregnancy, and you couldn’t stand being played?” I mumbled under my breath. In a flash, an impossible thought struck me. “Rico… you don’t actually like me, do you?” The room was dark, the lamps unlit. The night was like ink, with only the moonlight spilling through the windows, painting silver patterns on the floor. Half of Rico’s face was lost in the shadows, his expression unreadable. But his eyes held a strange, blazing light, a heat that threatened to drown me. I forced myself to look away, my voice turning cool. “We had a deal from the start. No one was supposed to fall in love.” It felt like an eternity passed before I heard his cold laugh, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine in the pitch-black room. “You’re overthinking it.” “The deal was for five years. That’s what I promised my grandfather. After five years, when I take full control of the company, then we can talk about divorce.” Rico disappeared for a long time after that. Monica never contacted me again. Once more, I was the enviable Mrs. Thorne. As my period approached, Mrs. Gable had already prepared a thermos of honey-sweetened ginger tea and left it on my nightstand. I smiled and thanked her, drinking the whole thing in one go. She seemed to want to say something, glancing towards Rico’s study several times, but ultimately remained silent. Rico stopped taking me shopping, stopped going on strolls with me, stopped taking me deep-sea fishing. He suddenly became incredibly busy, not coming home for months at a time. He was actively avoiding me. Ever since that day I told him no one was supposed to fall in love. It was for the best. Our marriage was a sham. Catching feelings would only lead to a devastating loss. But it was strange. The tea was sweet, but all I could taste was bitterness. 4 Rico’s birthday was approaching again. Time flew. It had been nearly a year since his last birthday, the one where I’d faked a pregnancy. This year’s party was being organized by his grandfather, the old Mr. Thorne himself. It was a massive affair, held at one of the family’s country estates, with a guest list a mile long. The evening of the party, Rico took me to a private couturier to pick out a dress and jewelry. The owner was a stunning blonde woman who, despite her looks, spoke with a flawless accent. “What style are you looking for?” she asked with a smile, taking my measurements. I thought for a moment. “Something elegant and respectable.” After all, I was Mrs. Thorne now. I had to look the part—graceful, dignified. I couldn’t embarrass him. But the woman looked me up and down, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It’s Rico’s birthday. How about we try something… different?” When I stepped out in the red dress, Rico was on the phone by the window. He hung up, turned, and his eyes widened with an unmistakable flicker of awe. I looked at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger. The dress was the color of fire, clinging to my curves. My hair was swept up, revealing the long, pale line of my neck. My waist was cinched, my legs looked impossibly long, and the neckline hinted at a cleavage I never knew I had. I had never seen myself look so… breathtaking. But the slit ran all the way up my thigh. I shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I should change?” He didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked to a display of jewels and selected a ruby necklace. He came up behind me, his fingers brushing against my skin as he fastened the clasp. “No,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s perfect.” The rubies were dazzling, catching the light with every movement. The accidental graze of his fingertips on my neck sent a sudden, unexpected shiver through me. It tickled. When I entered the ballroom on Rico’s arm, every head turned. After three years with him, I was used to the stares. But this time, it wasn’t just the women. It was the men, too. Their gazes were different. “I thought Monica Ferguson was back. What’s she still doing here?” “I was sure he would have kicked her to the curb by now.” “Well, it has been three years. You can get attached to a dog in that time.” I’d heard variations of these comments for years. I thought I was immune, but a strange, unidentifiable emotion churned in my stomach. I tightened my grip on my champagne flute, telling myself to let it go. They were right, after all. I’d endured it for this long; what was one more year? One more year, and I could take my money, take my mom, and disappear somewhere no one knew us. “Mrs. Thorne.” I turned to see a man with a charming smile. I recognized him. Ethan Blackwood, Rico’s biggest rival. He clinked his glass against mine. “You look more beautiful every time I see you.” I smiled and thanked him. The next moment, he was draping his jacket over my shoulders. “But at an event like this, one must be mindful of their appearance.” Only then did I notice the looks. My bare shoulders, my back, the long expanse of my leg exposed by the slit—they were all targets. Most of the gazes were from men, and they were predatory, loaded with suggestion. I frowned, a wave of displeasure washing over me. Before I could say a word, a strong hand settled on my waist. Rico was beside me. He adjusted the necklace at my throat, his voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “My wife wears what she wants. That’s her right.” Ethan smiled smoothly. “I was merely offering a friendly suggestion. After all, I’m not the only one here who thinks so.” Rico’s gaze swept the room, and the other men quickly looked away. When titans clashed, the mortals knew to stay clear. “It’s the 21st century, Ethan,” Rico said, his voice laced with ice. “Are you still under the impression that women dress to please men?” Ethan shrugged. “I never said that.” Rico’s smile was thin and sharp. “Then why the hell are you telling my wife to be ‘mindful’? She can wear whatever she damn well pleases. Who do you think you are, judging a Thorne?” The room was utterly silent. Ethan, having been publicly humiliated, opened his mouth to retort, but Rico had already turned, leading me away. “Perhaps you should learn some basic respect, Ethan, before you try to lecture others.” Rico led me away from the crowd, finding a quiet balcony on the second floor. He stood there, frowning, not saying a word. The night wind was cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself. He took off his jacket and draped it over me. I pressed my lips together. “So you think this dress is too revealing, too?” A muscle twitched in Rico’s jaw. After a moment, he said, “Aren’t you cold?” …Right. He was the one who picked it out. “Why did you choose this dress for me?” “Because you look beautiful in it.” “But it’s so revealing. Everyone thought so.” Rico turned to face me, leaning against the railing, his eyes looking down at me. “I don’t think so,” he said softly. “You look beautiful. You look… sexy.” He paused, his gaze intense. “A flower is meant to bloom. If someone plucks it, it’s the fault of the one who plucked it.” “The flower itself is blameless.” A long, long time ago, my mother loved to dance. After dinner, she would put on her beautiful dance skirts and join the community group in the town square. The gossip spread like wildfire. They called her a flirt, wondering who she was trying to seduce, dressed like that every day. My father found out. To this day, I can still hear his words. “Dressing like that? You’re just asking for it.” After that, I threw away every pretty dress I owned. And now, here was someone, telling me with unwavering certainty. The flower is blameless. In that moment, as if bewitched, I took a step forward, tilted my head back, and looked up at him. “Rico, is your flower Monica?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. It was a long time before he answered. “She was.” “And now?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384774”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boss got his heart broken. Gleefully, I took a screenshot to send to my best friend. Except, I accidentally sent it to him. A slow, deliberate question mark appeared in our chat. You’re here to laugh at me too? In a desperate bid to save my job, I typed with trembling fingers: No! I was just… worried. The drinking, the smoking… it’s so bad for you. It hurts me to see you like this. His reply came back. Sorry. I’m not a homewrecker. Then: You should give up now. Ten minutes passed. That said… wanna see my abs? Just finished a workout. 1 It was Valentine’s Day. To celebrate, I’d posted a photoshopped picture of myself with my celebrity crush. “Our third year together,” I captioned it. Less than half an hour later, the main company group chat exploded. A new rule had just been announced: no one was allowed to take leave on Valentine’s Day. The collective groan was almost audible. We all scurried over to our private group chat. Mark the secretary said it was a last-minute decision from the boss. Rumor has it, the boss got dumped. A guy like Richard Cohan can get dumped? Seriously? You know, thinking about a guy with a face like Richard’s being miserable over love makes my own romantic failures feel a little less tragic. Work was forgotten. Everyone was buzzing, trying to figure out who this mystery woman was—the one who had dared to break the heart of our office’s resident ice king, Richard Cohan. Someone tagged me: @Lily, don’t you have the boss on your personal chat? Check his feed! I played it cool. Can’t see anything. He probably has me blocked or something. In reality, my fingers were already flying, tapping open Richard’s profile. He had posted a single, devastating line: “Why does she still love that other man? It’s true. I’m just not enough for her.” His location tag was a downtown cocktail lounge. So, it was true. He really had been dumped. My gossip-loving heart couldn’t resist. I screenshotted the post to send to my best friend for a proper dissection. The moment I hit send, my supervisor dropped a file on my desk, needing my immediate attention. I shoved my phone away, putting on my best “diligent employee” face. When she finally left, a notification lit up my screen. My smile vanished. I had sent the screenshot to Richard himself. Richard Cohan: ??? Richard Cohan: They’re all laughing at me. Richard Cohan: You’re here to laugh at me too? His words were dripping with a raw, wounded vulnerability. My blood ran cold. Richard Cohan: Lily. What exactly is the meaning of this? It was over. I was so fired. Scrambling to save my job, I hammered out a reply: No! I was just… worried. The drinking, the smoking… it’s so bad for you. It hurts me to see you like this. I added another for good measure: You have to take care of yourself, Mr. Cohan! Because who else is going to give me this dream job with its six-figure salary, 10-to-5 hours, triple overtime, and weekends off? The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared. I held my breath. Richard Cohan: I’m sorry, I don’t get involved with taken women. Richard Cohan: You should give up now. I stared at the screen, utterly baffled. Had the breakup fried his brain? Was he mixing me up with his ex-girlfriend? Ten minutes crawled by. Richard Cohan: That said… wanna see my abs? Just finished a workout. The phone felt like it was burning a hole in my hand. A coworker walked by, and I guiltily shoved it into my pocket, my heart pounding. 2 It wasn’t until I got home that I realized my phone screen had never locked. In my pocket, my leg had accidentally sent Richard Cohan about eight hundred “I want you” stickers from my spiciest collection. At first, his replies were professionally horrified. Lily, I am your boss. I expect you to respect our professional boundaries. I would like to keep our relationship strictly work-related. But after the relentless digital assault of winking emojis and suggestive memes, he seemed to have surrendered. Fine. Whatever makes you happy. But I don’t want a third person knowing about… this. My dignity is on the line here. Half an hour had passed since his last message. He was waiting for my response. I was crouched by the elevator in my apartment building, trying to formulate a reply that wouldn’t get me fired or committed. My next-door neighbor appeared, walking his dog. “Late night, Lily?” I nodded mournfully. Another night of overtime. The pay was great, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. “You work so hard, and the pay’s good, right?” he said with a cheerful smile. “You must have a nice little nest egg saved up.” I… His Golden Retriever, still buzzing with post-walk energy, chose that exact moment to barrel into me. I stumbled, and my phone went flying. Before I could react, the dog snatched it up in his mouth, and the chase was on. An hour later, I finally wrestled the slobber-covered, thoroughly chewed device from the jaws of the furry demon. My neighbor was mortified. “My boy is a menace! I’m so sorry, Lily, let me pay for the damages. Double!” Well, if he insisted. I “tearfully” accepted the money transfer. The good news: the phone still turned on. The bad news: it had developed a mind of its own. It was possessed. When I wanted it to go left, it veered right with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Richard had been waiting. He nudged me again. Lily, do you agree or not? I’ve been thinking, and this whole situation is completely ridiculous. It’s beneath my station. If anyone found out, what would they think of me? Can you imagine? … This is… my first time. … If you’re not going to agree, just say so. To be honest, I’m not that into the idea anyway. I’m not that kind of person. … Why are you leaving me on read? I can see you’re typing! … Fine, if you don’t agree, that’s okay. But you can’t tell anyone! Promise me! I tried to type “I DON’T AGREE.” But the cursed phone had other plans. It clattered out a response of its own accord. Sent: I agree. Oh, hell no. I frantically mashed the “unsend” button. The possessed device responded by firing off a volley of kissy-face emojis. A full minute passed before Richard sent a cool, detached, “Okay.” My phone wasn’t finished. It sent another barrage. Richard Cohan: …It’s only the first day. Are you sure about this? I’m a very traditional person. I don’t want to move this fast. I’ve never really dated before. What’s the first step? Then, in a moment of pure, unadulterated horror, I watched as my phone automatically sent him a sticker of a cartoon character suggestively wiggling its eyebrows with the caption: “Wanna do it?” Richard seemed genuinely stunned into silence. Finally, a pained message appeared: You’re so thirsty, Lily. That was it. In a fit of rage, I chucked the phone straight into the water-filled bathroom sink. If I’m going down, you’re coming with me! 3 The next morning, I crept into the office like a wanted fugitive. “Hey, did they cancel the morning meeting?” I asked a coworker, feigning casual curiosity. “Yeah,” she said. “The boss called in sick.” A wave of relief so profound it nearly buckled my knees washed over me. Perfect. I could play dumb for another day. My phone was at the repair shop, and the tech had promised it would be fixed by the evening, so I hadn’t bothered buying a new one. I had no idea what Richard’s final messages might have been. Just then, my supervisor appeared. “Lily, I need you to run this file over to the hospital for Mr. Cohan to sign. It’s urgent.” My carefully constructed calm shattered. I stood outside his hospital room, my hand hovering over the door, unable to bring myself to knock. “Lily?” It was Mark, Richard’s secretary, holding a container of what looked like porridge. My expression was a mess of panic and guilt, but an idea sparked. “Mark! I’m just here to get a signature from Mr. Cohan. Since you’re here—” “—Perfect!” Mark cut me off, practically shoving the porridge into my hands. “I just got called away on an emergency. Can you give this to him for me?” He moved with the speed of a man escaping a burning building. Before vanishing down the hall, he helpfully knocked on the door. “Mr. Cohan! Lily’s here to see you!” A cool, flat voice drifted from inside. “Oh.” I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, my steps hesitant and small. The man in the hospital bed turned his head, and his gaze was like ice. “Good morning, Mr. Cohan,” I squeaked. Richard’s expression was a mask of pure accusation. “It’s not good at all.” I froze. After a long, tense silence, he spoke again, his voice laced with melodrama. “Are you just going to stand there and let me starve to death… girlfriend?” My hand trembled as I offered him the porridge. “Mr. Cohan, about last night… I need about ten minutes to explain everything.” Richard was genuinely hungry. He focused on the food, not even looking up. “Go on,” he said between spoonfuls. “Let’s hear your tall tale.” Ten minutes later, I finished my frantic explanation. “…and that’s what happened. I didn’t send any of those things,” I concluded, sitting ramrod straight, cautiously watching his expression. A strange, unreadable smile flickered across his lips. “So you don’t have a boyfriend?” I shook my head vigorously. “That picture was of an indie singer I’ve been a fan of for years. He’s not famous, so people get the wrong idea all the time.” Realizing I was getting sidetracked, I leaned forward earnestly. “The point is, Mr. Cohan, I wasn’t screenshotting your post to make fun of you! I swear, my loyalty to you is unshakable!” Richard slowly, deliberately wiped his hands with a napkin. “So, let me get this straight. You just happened to screenshot my post and send it to me. Then, under duress, you said all those things. Then, a dog just happened to steal your phone, which just happened to break in a way that just happened to send me a confession of love?” My eyes were wide and sincere. I nodded firmly. “Exactly, Mr. Cohan. That’s precisely what happened.” The misunderstanding was cleared. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he let out a cold laugh. “Lily, do I look like an idiot?” Tears of frustration welled in my eyes as I shook my head. He then launched into a one-sided tirade. “Do you have any idea how long I waited outside your apartment building last night?” My voice was a whisper. “Why… why didn’t you just come up?” He shot me a glare. “In what capacity? Was I supposed to announce myself as your accidental, digitally-coerced… whatever I am?” He had a point. “And do you know how cold it got? The temperature dropped! It was freezing!” Richard was genuinely upset now. “Do you even have a heart?” I glanced at him, a stupid internet meme popping into my head. “So… can I buy you a beer?” 4 I was kicked out of the room. Richard said he needed to be alone. He told me to go stand in a corner somewhere. That evening, I got my phone back and immediately opened our chat history. Richard’s initial reactions to the “Wanna do it?” sticker were exactly as prim and proper as I’d expected. Lily, I must insist you conduct yourself with some decorum. I am not that kind of person. That was definitely him. I remembered when he first started, his regular secretary wasn’t available, so I filled in for a while. I handed him a cup of coffee once, and our fingers brushed for a split second. He blushed to the roots of his hair. “My apologies,” he’d stammered. Another time, I noticed his shirt cuff was unbuttoned. Out of habit, I reached over to fix it. He snatched his arm back as if he’d been burned. “I… I can get it,” he said, not meeting my eyes. And then there was the time he had a late-night work dinner and his driver had an emergency. I was sent to pick him up. I found him squatting by the curb, looking dazed. He just stared at me for a long time. The next day, he issued a formal memo: “For safety reasons, female employees should not be assigned to late-night pick-ups.” Richard Cohan was a true gentleman, with the patience of a saint. Which didn’t stop him from being incredibly demanding when it came to work. Because of this, many of us had become immune to his handsome face. Myself included. A while back, at a company retreat, with Richard thankfully absent, things got a little wild. The questions were all about him. “Lily,” someone asked me, “if you went on a blind date and it turned out to be the boss, what would you do?” “Run,” I said without hesitation. “Run for the hills.” “He’s a great guy, but he’s my boss,” I continued, warming up to my topic. “Who in their right mind develops feelings for their boss? I mean, am I that desperate for a man? It’s never going to happen. Not in this lifetime. Even if he were a literal angel descended from heaven.” I was on a roll, completely oblivious to the fact that the subject of my rant was standing right behind me, having heard every single word. As he walked away, he paused and asked, his voice quiet, “Am I really that repulsive to you?” The memory made me cringe. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and continued scrolling through our chat. The further I went, the more my jaw tightened. Richard’s last message was from 1:00 AM. Come downstairs. I’ll let you have one kiss. But that’s it. We are not sleeping together. And I… I had been sound asleep, leaving him out in the cold all night. My heart sank. I carefully typed and re-typed my message. Mr. Cohan, please rest assured that our… situation… will remain a complete secret. So, could we please just pretend none of this ever happened? He didn’t reply directly. Instead, a new post appeared on his feed. It was a photo of his hand, an IV drip taped to the back of it. The caption: “In the end, I bear it all alone.” A pang of guilt hit me. I quickly sent another message: Please take care of yourself. I’ll come visit you again soon… He replied instantly. When is soon? You know I’m a very busy man. Never mind. I have a business meeting near your place anyway. I suppose I can spare a few minutes to wait for you. Come downstairs. … And that is how I found myself, clad in my fluffiest ten-dollar pajamas, sneaking into a ridiculously luxurious Rolls-Royce parked on my street corner. The moment I got in, I was struck by Richard’s face. He was dressed in a bespoke suit, his shoes polished to a mirror shine. From head to toe, he radiated an aura of refined elegance. No wonder those romance novel heroes were always saying, “You can’t even compare to a single strand of her hair.” I suddenly felt incredibly underdressed. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Richard was still clearly sick, ducking his head to cough a few times. The effort sent a flush of color to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. I felt a little bad for him. “You look handsome even when you’re sick, Mr. Cohan,” I said, my honesty tinged with a bit of exaggeration. “It’s like a romance novel hero walked right off the page.” A flicker of shyness crossed his eyes. “Oh? What kind of novels do you read?” My brain outpaced my mouth. “The gay kind.” Richard… was speechless. 6 The next day at work, Mark, the secretary, called in sick. The boss needed a temporary replacement. My coworkers’ hands shot up around me. I pretended to be deaf, dumb, and blind. Then, in the act of swatting at a fly, my arm shot up, and my supervisor’s eyes locked onto me. “Lily! So eager! The job is yours.” I… what? Later, she explained. “You’ve assisted Mr. Cohan before, so you’re familiar with his work style. You’re the best fit.” My main issue was the fresh layer of awkwardness between Richard and me. Then my supervisor added, “I hear it comes with a five-thousand-dollar monthly bonus.” I grabbed her hand. “You have absolutely chosen the right person for the job!” That afternoon, I moved my things to the office adjacent to the boss’s. Being his direct report felt… kind of awesome. While he was out, I took the opportunity to slack off. I saw Mark had updated his social media. It was a nine-photo grid of stunning ocean views. “The feeling of a triple-paid vacation is just unbeatable! I’m voting for Richard Cohan for chairman for life!” Confused, I commented: Mark, are you feeling better? A second later, the post vanished. A private message from Mark popped up: You saw wrong. That was a picture from the hospital. I’m finding joy in my sorrow. It’s, you know, abstract art. I couldn’t really argue with that. Well, take care of yourself, I replied. Mark: Lily, you have to be good to the boss. He’s really been through a lot! 7 Richard had been hospitalized for a severe case of the flu. He only stayed one day before throwing himself back into work, still clearly unwell. He stood by the window in his overcoat, occasionally coughing into his fist. The back of his hand was still bruised from the IV. He looked fragile, windswept, and tragically beautiful. My guilt intensified when I saw the gossip flying in the private group chat: I heard the boss stood outside his ex-girlfriend’s apartment all night trying to win her back. That’s how he got so sick. I heard he was a sickly child, basically grew up on medication. A simple cold could take years off his life. I heard a psychic told his family he wouldn’t live past twenty-five. So that’s what Mark meant by “he’s been through a lot.” I was overcome with a mixture of guilt and pity. That evening, my attitude was one of extreme solicitude. After parking the car, I grabbed the new scarf I’d bought and an umbrella. I practically sprinted to his side. Richard looked pleasantly surprised, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “What are you doing here?” “I’m worried you’ll get colder,” I said, instructing him to lower his head. He complied obediently. As he leaned down, I caught the faint, clean scent of antiseptic. “Mark’s sick, so I’ve been assigned as his temporary replacement.” “Oh, by the way, Mr. Cohan, what’s wrong with Mark? It sounds pretty serious.” I mean, they wouldn’t have me fill in for a whole month otherwise. Richard averted his gaze, stammering slightly. “I’m not sure. A broken bone, I think. Somewhere.” I didn’t press it. Richard’s house wasn’t far. During the thirty-minute drive, I tried my best to make conversation, carefully avoiding the topic of his love life. “Mr. Cohan, what made you decide to come manage this branch office?” This was just one of many subsidiaries of the Cohan Corporation. When news broke that the heir apparent was coming to take over, everyone was shocked. I was shocked for another reason entirely—his name was identical to a person from my past. He was reading a document but looked up at my question. “Fate, I suppose.” “Well, it’s a wonderful fate,” I said sincerely. “I love this fate.” If Richard hadn’t come and completely overhauled the company’s benefits package, I would have quit long ago.

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The year my boyfriend was at his poorest, I broke up with him. Years later, he returned, powerful and successful, and used every means at his disposal to marry me. Everyone said I was the one that got away, that I was his most beloved wife. Then he started bringing different women home every night, shattering my heart and turning me into the laughingstock of our social circle. But I never cried, never threw a fit. I lived quietly in the study, never disturbing his affairs. It drove him mad. He would kiss me fiercely, his voice a low growl against my lips. “Don’t you feel anything? Aren’t you jealous?” He didn’t know I was sick. And with every day of his twisted revenge, I was silently counting down the days I had left to live. 1 In the third year of my marriage to Vicent Blackwood, he took a beautiful young college girl as his mistress. Her name was Betty. She had an innocent, lovely face—exactly Vicent’s type. He kept her for over half a year. Other than me, she was the woman who had stayed by his side the longest. My friends warned me to be careful. They said it looked like Vicent was genuinely falling for her. I met Betty for the first time on my birthday. My nose had been bleeding since morning. I went to the hospital for a check-up, and the doctor told me I would be lucky to see next spring. I nodded softly. “It’s okay,” I whispered. I wasn’t afraid of dying, just of the pain. I’d heard there was an expensive medication that could make the end more comfortable. The money in my bank account wasn’t enough, so I went to Vicent’s company to find him. It just so happened that Betty was there too. She’d just graduated and was working as his personal assistant. Vicent was in a meeting. I sat outside to wait. Betty kept staring at me, whispering to her colleagues. “That’s the boss’s wife? She looks so… washed out. Thin as a rail, like she’s half-dead.” “They all say I look like her, but where? I’m so much prettier.” My reflection shimmered on the polished glass wall. A pale face with no makeup, swallowed by a puffy winter coat. I didn’t look good. And I was, in fact, half-dead. A colleague tugged on Betty’s arm. “That’s because she’s not wearing any makeup,” she hissed. “If she got dolled up, ten of you couldn’t hold a candle to her. And don’t think you can provoke her just because the boss spoils you. You have no idea how much he loves her. If you make her unhappy, he’ll destroy you.” 2 Hearing that Vicent supposedly loved me, Betty just pouted and rolled her eyes. She brought me a cup of tea, her voice sweet and feathery. “Ava, sweetie, I can’t believe he’s making you wait this long. It’s so strange. Whenever I used to visit, no matter how busy he was, he would always drop everything to see me. He said I was the most important thing.” She smiled, her eyes curving into crescents. “I guess I just assumed he was that considerate with everyone…” She looked so much like me when I was younger. I thought about it. Vicent really was different with Betty. He’d had countless lovers, using them as tools in his bitter game against me, bringing a new one home each night to test my reaction. But he never kept them for long. A day or two, maybe a couple of weeks, and he would grow bored. Only Betty was different. He set her up in a beautiful apartment, took her to dinner, went shopping with her, saw movies with her. They were like any other ordinary, loving couple. He gave her money, but he also gave her something that looked like love. I looked at Betty and offered a gentle smile. “If you’re so important,” I asked softly, “why does he let you be the dirty little secret?” “You should convince him to divorce me and make you an honest woman.” Betty’s face fell. Humiliation twisted into anger. “The one he doesn’t love is the homewrecker!” she spat, her voice low. “You’re the one who’s redundant!” “You just got lucky because you met him a few years before I did. But look at you now. You’re old and ugly. What do you have left to fight me with?” Her colleague, probably fearing my reaction, rushed over and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away. But it didn’t matter. I was fine. I had made a promise to myself a long time ago. I would not get angry over Vicent. I would not feel sorrow over Vicent. And I certainly would not fight another woman over him. He wasn’t worth it. 3 Yanked by her colleague, Betty lost her balance. She stumbled and fell, the teacup shattering in her hand. A shard of porcelain sliced deep into her palm, and blood pooled on the floor. Through the glass wall of the conference room, Vicent saw her. In front of everyone, he slammed his files on the table, threw the door open, and rushed to her side, scooping her into his arms. “Who the hell did this?” he roared, his voice like ice. The well-meaning colleague shrank back, her face pale with terror. A cold smile touched my lips. “I did,” I said. “And she deserved it.” Betty stared at me through her tears. “Yes, I deserved it!” she cried out. “I deserved it for falling for a man I shouldn’t have! For being called a mistress, a homewrecker!” “But, Vicent,” she sobbed, “as long as you love me, I’ll stay by your side forever. No one can ever tear us apart!” She was so lovely, even as she wept. Her absurd words sounded brave and defiant coming from her lips. Vicent actually chuckled. He gently wiped her tears away. “There, there,” he cooed. “You’ve cried your makeup all over.” He really was different with her. I lowered my eyes, too tired to watch. “I want five hundred thousand for my birthday this year,” I said to Vicent. It was laughable. We were husband and wife, but we didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers. The only time I ever sought him out was to ask for money. Before we married, we made a deal: he wanted me, and I wanted his money. Vicent had always hated me for being a gold digger. But in the past, no matter how much I asked for, he would give it to me, and then some. This time was different. He looked at me, his smile chillingly slow. “You want money? Fine.” “But first, Ava,” he said, drawing out each word, “swallow that precious pride of yours and tell Betty you’re sorry.” He was trying to buy my dignity, to buy an apology for Betty. For the first time, he was using money to humiliate me for another woman. My fists slowly clenched. A soft laugh escaped my lips. I fought back a sudden, sharp wave of pain and turned to leave. I didn’t want the money anymore. A thought crossed my mind. I wonder, Vicent. What look would be on your face if you knew this money could have bought me a little more time? If you knew how much I suffered before I died?

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My best friend and I married into the same wealthy family. Her mission: Seduce the overbearing older brother and drain his fortune. My mission: Seduce the famous younger brother and drain his… stamina. But the older brother was too rich; his fortune was endless. And the younger brother was a workaholic who was never home. I sighed. “I think I’m giving up. You?” My best friend replied, “If you give up, I give up.” So I packed our bags, and we made a run for it. The older brother called the younger one in a rage. “Can you get your wife under control? If you can’t handle her, get her a job or something. Just stop her from corrupting mine.” The younger brother was filming a live variety show. In an instant, the entire internet knew he “couldn’t handle her.” That night, he cornered me in the bathroom, beads of sweat on his forehead. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered. “Just promise me you’ll never run away again.” 1 We were playing ‘Truth or Dare’ with eighteen male models at a club. My best friend, Lucy, lost. Her forfeit was to have the models surround her and give her a private twerking show. She covered her face, feigning embarrassment. “What’s the big deal?” I teased from the sidelines. “Your husband is way wilder than they are.” “You know what? You’re right,” she declared, dropping all pretense of shyness. “If we’re here, let’s go all out.” She jumped into the circle and started dancing with them. Just as the party reached its peak, a line of bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses stormed in. They bowed to Lucy. “Ma’am, Mr. Blackwood requests your presence.” These were Liam Blackwood’s men. Lucy quickly dismissed the models and grabbed my arm. “Ava, what do I do? If Liam catches me, I’m dead.” “Run,” I said, calm and clear. I pushed through the crowd, heading for the back exit. It wasn’t until I was outside that I realized Lucy hadn’t followed. My phone rang. “Ava, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice small. “I’m not running. Liam’s actually… really good to me. The money is just too good. Where else am I going to find a man like him? I’ve decided to keep going with the mission.” I froze. Just last night, when I’d said I wanted to quit, Lucy had immediately agreed. “I’m with you. If you quit, I quit.” And now this? Betrayed by a girl in love. 2 To be fair, Lucy’s situation was different from mine. We had both been bound by a ‘System’ and married into the ultra-wealthy Blackwood family. Her mission was to seduce the domineering CEO, Liam Blackwood, and bankrupt him. But Liam’s fortune was so vast that even after Lucy had become fabulously wealthy herself, she had barely made a dent. My mission was to seduce the celebrity younger brother, Bobby Blackwood, and drain his physical energy. Although Bobby came from money, he was serious about his career in entertainment. He was a complete workaholic, constantly filming, appearing on shows, or shooting commercials. We had been married for almost three years, and while he deposited every penny he earned into my bank account, he never actually came home. How was I supposed to drain his energy when I never even saw him? That’s why I wanted to give up. Lucy was still on the phone. In the brief silence, I heard the sound of fabric tearing. I didn’t have to guess. Liam was pulling her into the back of his Rolls-Royce. The partition was rising. He was tilting her chin up, his voice thick with possession. “Am I not good to you? Why would you run?” Lucy’s resolve crumbled. “I’m sorry, darling,” she cooed. “I never meant to leave you. It was Ava’s idea. She put me up to it.” A smirk was audible in Liam’s voice. “So, I’ve been too lenient with you. She says a few words, and you run off with her? It seems a punishment is in order…” Ugh. Here we go again with the ‘forced love’ trope. I hung up before their little game could really get started. 3 Back at the hotel, I sat on the sofa in the presidential suite, sipping red wine alone. On the TV, Bobby’s handsome face flickered across the screen. He was starring in a hit fantasy drama, playing a seductive fox demon. The scene currently playing showed him carrying the female lead back to his den to… make little fox demon babies. The comments on the screen flew by: He looks like he has super sperm. She’s a lucky girl. Do it! Do it now! Make all the babies! Please. It was all an act. The truth was, on our wedding night, I had almost completed my mission. We were in the middle of a passionate kiss. But then he went to take a shower, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was already gone—back to his film set. Seriously, who leaves his new wife on their wedding night to go back to work? Muttering to myself, I changed the channel. There he was again, on a variety show promoting the drama with his co-star. Suddenly, his phone rang on live television. He answered it. Liam’s voice boomed from the speaker. “Can you get your wife under control? She took my wife to a club tonight and hired eighteen male models. If you can’t handle her, get her a job or something. Stop her from corrupting mine.” The show was live. The host’s brain practically short-circuited. The online comments exploded: What, Bobby Blackwood is married? Who is his wife? Damn, his wife is a badass. 18 models? Can she handle that? Wait, did that guy on the phone just say Bobby ‘can’t handle her’? … Bobby was calmer than I would have expected. “I’m in the middle of a taping,” he said to his brother. “We’ll talk later.” The incident was a full-blown live TV disaster. As expected, before the show even ended, Bobby’s name was trending everywhere. #BobbyBlackwoodIsMarried #BobbyBlackwoodsWifeHiresModels #BobbyBlackwoodCantHandleHer The entire world now thought he was bad in bed. I looked at the trending topics and almost burst out laughing. I couldn’t resist. Using my burner account, I commented under the most popular post: Such a waste of a pretty face. Satisfied, I tossed my phone on the sofa and fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I rolled over and was met with a crisp, woody scent. “Why didn’t you use your burner account?” a voice asked. It was Bobby. 4 My eyes snapped open. Bobby was leaning over me. What? Had I forgotten to switch accounts before I posted that comment? There was no anger in his voice, only a hint of amused indulgence. “It’s the truth,” I said defensively. “Am I not allowed to say it?” In the next moment, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom. “What are you doing?” I protested. He set me down on the vanity and slowly, deliberately, kissed me. I had just been watching him act out a kissing scene. In the fox den, he had been coaxing the female lead, but just as their lips were about to meet, the camera had pulled away, showing only their intertwined hands. Now, his lips were on mine. His movements were a little clumsy but incredibly earnest. I could feel him getting aroused. He turned to run the water in the bathtub. As much as I was enjoying this, my resolve to quit the mission was firm. “Bobby,” I reminded him, “I’ve decided to divorce you.” His eyes darkened. I thought he was going to discuss the divorce, but instead, his lips found mine again, hungry and insistent. He was like a seductive fox, luring me in. I must have been drunk. I didn’t push him away. The water in the tub filled, steam clouding the room. I was pliant in his arms. He brushed my hair back from my face, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. “We’re not getting a divorce.” “I know I’ve neglected you.” “I’ll make it up to you. Just… please don’t run away again.” As he spoke, he pressed a credit card into my palm. “This is everything I made this month. It’s all yours.” So that’s what he meant by ‘making it up to me’? Giving me money? But I didn’t want his money. I wanted him. I set the card aside. He sensed my displeasure. “Not enough?” he asked, his voice gentle. “I’ll work harder, earn more. I have three new endorsement deals in the works, and the payment for my next film is coming soon.” For three years, he had worked himself to the bone, taking every job offered, with no time to come home. The balance in my bank account was already ridiculously high. But no matter how much money I had, if he wouldn’t let me touch him, I could never complete my mission. “Bobby, you’ve given me more than enough money,” I said, my fingers tracing the line of his shirt, flicking open a button. “Could you… give me something else?” There was no way he didn’t understand. He caught my wandering hand, his expression momentarily dazed. Then he regained his composure. “Ava, I’ll give you anything you want. Anything… except my body.” 5 His words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing every spark of passion I had. “Why?” I had to know. “Because I don’t want to lose…” he murmured, a look in his eyes I couldn’t decipher. He must have someone else. A ‘one that got away’ that he couldn’t forget. That’s why he’d left me on our wedding night—he must have been thinking of her. Our marriage was a sham because he was waiting for her, saving himself for her. When he said he didn’t want to lose, he meant he didn’t want to lose her. “The bath is ready. You should get in,” he said, lifting me off the vanity. I soaked in the tub. When I came out, he was gone. He’d just left, afraid I was going to pounce on him. My phone buzzed with a message from him: Have an early call time tomorrow. Heading back to the set. Get some rest. I called Lucy to vent. “Lucy, is he crazy? He turns me on and then just runs away. What’s his deal?” Lucy’s voice was hesitant. “Uh… I’m a little busy right now… Can we talk tomorrow?” I heard the… activity… in the background and immediately backtracked. “Oh, right. You’re busy. Never mind.” Before I could hang up, Liam’s voice came through, deep and husky. “Pay attention, darling.” It was too much. I quickly ended the call. Now I didn’t even have anyone to complain to. I opened social media and saw I was trending. #BobbyBlackwoodsWifesComment My comment had been traced back to my main account. Now, a swarm of curious fans was flooding my page. So, is it true? Is he all show and no go? Can you please clear this up? I don’t believe for a second that our Bobby is bad in bed. I hadn’t believed it either. He had rushed all the way here to ‘prove’ himself, only to run away with his tail between his legs. Now, I was more certain than ever.

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For the annual holiday bonuses, all employees received a luxury gift basket—except my wife’s new driver, Joey, who got a million-dollar Patek Philippe. That’s when I knew. I didn’t lose my temper. I just placed the signed divorce papers in front of her. “You lose everything, or he disappears. Choose.” That night, she returned crying and tore the papers apart. “It’s handled,” she whispered. Three days later, at the Autumn Charity Gala, she showed up with Joey. When our eyes met, she shuddered and clutched his arm, loudly declaring, “I can’t take your twisted appetites anymore! Joey taught me what love is.” Then, angling her arm toward the cameras, she revealed a constellation of purple bruises. Gasps filled the room. “Long Industries CEO Accused of Abuse” trended worldwide instantly. Amusing. Some are offered an easy way out but choose ruin instead. Fine. If she wants a war, I’ll give her annihilation. 1 I watched the screen of my phone, the headlines flashing across it: “Adrian Long: The Beast Behind the Billionaire,” “Seraphina Vance’s Brave Stand Against Abuser Husband.” It was patently absurd. A move so clumsy, so utterly foolish. Did she really think she could destroy me, destroy Long Industries, with such a cheap trick? That she could legitimize her sordid little affair? A daydreamer, lost in her own fantasy. I lifted my gaze. Across the room, Joey held her protectively, his arm wrapped around her as she gave a tearful interview to a swarm of reporters. “For the sake of our families’ alliance, I was prepared to endure it forever,” she sobbed. “But then Joey came into my life, and he showed me that I deserved happiness…” “All I want is a swift end to this sham of a marriage, but…” She trailed off, glancing at me. Her eyes held a flicker of fear, but it was overshadowed by a smug, confident certainty. “Ms. Vance, are you afraid of retaliation from Mr. Long?” a reporter pressed, shoving a microphone in her face. Seraphina flinched as if struck. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she buried her face in Joey’s chest. Joey stepped forward, shielding her. He stared directly at me, his voice ringing with self-righteous fury. “I won’t let Seraphina get hurt ever again,” he announced. “Power and wealth don’t give him the right to do whatever he wants!” They never once used the word “abuse,” yet every word was a hammer blow, nailing that very accusation to my name. Their little performance worked like a charm. The whispers around me grew louder, the judgmental stares more intense. “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. I remember when every debutante in the city was desperate to marry into the Long family. Turns out it wasn’t a palace, it was a predator’s den.” “Exactly. Adrian Long is famously ruthless in business. God only knows what methods he uses at home. Looking at Ms. Vance’s bruises, I can only imagine what she’s endured these past three years.” “If you ask me, he should grant her a divorce immediately, give her a generous settlement, and let her be with her true love. Otherwise, this abuse scandal is going to drag the entire Long name through the mud…” The pack of reporters turned, advancing on me. “Mr. Long, what is your response to Ms. Vance’s allegations?” “Will you do the decent thing and release her from this marriage?” The microphones stopped a few feet away, held back by my security detail. I raised a hand, waving them off, and rose slowly to my feet. The noisy ballroom fell into a sudden, expectant hush. A cold smile touched my lips. My gaze swept calmly across the room, passing over every face until it landed on Seraphina. “If Ms. Vance wants to play,” I said, my voice low but carrying to every corner of the vast hall, “then I’m more than happy to oblige.” I turned to my assistant. “Contact the legal department. We’re filing for divorce and suing for defamation. Simultaneously.” My voice dropped, turning to ice. “Immediately pull all funding from Vance Enterprises. Sever all joint ventures. Now.” Without another glance at anyone, I turned and walked out. 2 The moment I settled into the back of the car, my assistant handed me a tablet. “Sir, the stock has taken a significant hit. Several partners are invoking contract clauses to pull out, citing damage to the brand’s reputation.” He hesitated. “Should we… kill the story?” I glanced at the plummeting stock chart, a chilling smirk playing on my lips. “No need.” This was nothing. A minor turbulence. “Mobilize the offshore hedge fund. Use five billion. Buy back every share of Long stock you can get your hands on.” “As for those partners…” I paused, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Blacklist them. All of them. We will never do business with them again.” The words had barely left my mouth when my phone rang. It was Seraphina’s father, his voice a torrent of rage. “Adrian Long, you son of a bitch! I gave you my daughter, and this is how you treat her?” “This marriage is over! But don’t think you can just walk away!” he bellowed. “My daughter gets half of Long Industries! And another five hundred million for pain and suffering!” “And you will continue to unconditionally fund all of Vance Enterprises’ projects for the next ten years!” “If you refuse, we will fight you with everything we have! We’ll make sure Seraphina gets justice!” Listening to his hysterical threats, my eyes turned to chips of ice. Three years ago, Vance Enterprises was on the brink of collapse. If he and Seraphina hadn’t knelt outside my office for an entire day in the pouring rain, begging for a bailout, would their family even exist today? I remembered Seraphina then, her face streaked with rain and tears, clinging to my leg, refusing to let go. “Mr. Long, if you save my family, I’ll give you myself!” The fire in her eyes had moved me. I’d agreed. And so, our strategic marriage was born. In the years that followed, I not only injected capital into their company but also fed them countless resources and contracts, single-handedly building the Vance name back to prominence. It seemed three years of my generosity had made them forget who they depended on for their very survival. Listening to the old man’s blustering, and thinking of his cheating, treacherous daughter… like father, like daughter. A pair of ungrateful vipers. My grip on the phone tightened, my patience worn thin. “Do your worst, Mr. Vance.” I hung up and snapped at my assistant. “Three days.” “I want Seraphina with nothing, and the Vance name erased from this city.” If she had just been honest with me three days ago, I might have granted her a shred of dignity. But now, after she chose to use the most despicable means to claw for more… she would learn what it means to be truly ruthless. 3 When I returned to the villa, I found that Seraphina had already sent people to clear out her belongings. Our wedding photos were torn to pieces, scattered across the floor like confetti at a funeral. On the table lay a new divorce agreement she’d drafted and signed, demanding an even fifty-fifty split of all assets. One clause, in particular, made me laugh out loud. The husband is required to unconditionally transfer 51% of his shares in the Long Industries subsidiary ‘Vanguard Logistics’ to a third party, Mr. Joey. I had to wonder what kind of magic this Joey possessed. In just a year, he had bewitched Seraphina so completely that she was planning his fortune even as she planned her escape. And our three years of marriage? A lukewarm affair, sustained almost entirely by my efforts. Utterly pathetic. I crumpled the document into a tight ball and, with a flick of my wrist, sank it into the trash can. Ten minutes later, news broke that the Vance Enterprises’ funding pipeline had been severed, and all their major projects had ground to a halt. Seraphina’s calls started coming, one after another. I ignored them all. Then, the texts began, flooding my inbox like spam. Adrian Long, is threatening people the only thing you know how to do? If you have a problem, take it out on me! Why are you attacking my family? Don’t think this will make me come back to you. I will NEVER be with you. The only one I love is Joey. We should end this amicably. Otherwise, we can burn everything to the ground together. If I go down, you’re coming with me! Reading just those three, I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Even now, did she really believe I was doing all this to force her back into my arms? How pitifully, tragically stupid. I didn’t bother reading the rest. I simply blocked her number. I thought that would be the end of it, but I had severely underestimated her capacity for madness. The next morning, I had just walked into my office when my assistant burst in, his face pale. “Sir, you need to see this. Your wife… she’s live-streaming.” He handed me his phone. On the screen was Seraphina’s face, a mask of tragic beauty, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was wearing a simple white dress, her face stripped of makeup, making her look frail and vulnerable. “Hello, everyone… My name is Seraphina Vance. I am… Adrian Long’s wife, in name only.” She sniffled, her voice catching. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t how I wanted you to meet me, but I have nowhere else to turn.” “For three years,” she choked out, “he’s taken out his frustrations on me over the smallest things. I can’t take it anymore. Now that I’ve asked for a divorce, he refuses and is threatening to ruin my family… Please, someone, help me…” Then, she raised a utility knife to her own wrist and dragged it across her skin. Blood welled up instantly, dark and shocking against her pale flesh. “Maybe if I’m dead,” she whispered to the camera, “he’ll finally let me go…” The live chat exploded. “Ms. Vance, don’t! He’s not worth it! Think about Joey! We all support you! Find your happiness!” “That bastard Adrian Long is an animal! He’s driven this poor woman to this! If I ever got my hands on him…” “Don’t give up, Ms. Vance! Sue him! Take that abuser for everything he’s got! Make sure he ends up with nothing!” Just then, our housekeeper, Martha, rushed into the frame, grabbing Seraphina’s bleeding wrist, her own eyes red with tears. “Ma’am, please don’t do this! It’s not your fault! It’s all his fault!” “I’ve worked in this house for two years,” Martha declared, turning to the camera with righteous indignation. “I’ve seen how badly the Master treats you. Divorce him! I’ll be your witness!” She began to list my supposed crimes, her voice ringing with conviction. “One time, just because she forgot to bring him his slippers, he dragged her into a corner with no cameras and slammed her head against the wall! Then he forbade her from eating dinner.” “Another time, he pulled her into the bedroom, and all I could hear was the crack of a whip and the sound of her crying and begging for him to stop.” “And then there was the time…” She wove a tale so detailed, so believable, that if I weren’t the man she was describing, I might have believed it myself. She even produced a medical report detailing Seraphina’s injuries. “Again and again, Ma’am forgave him out of respect for their marriage. She made me destroy so many of these reports. If I hadn’t secretly kept this one, there’d be no way to get her justice!” Her testimony was the spark that ignited a wildfire of public outrage. My personal information and the addresses of Long Industries’ main offices were doxxed online. Threats and curses flooded our servers. Joey appeared on screen then, dabbing at Seraphina’s wound with a look of profound love and pain. “Shhh, Seraphina, don’t be afraid. You have me now. I’ll always be with you,” he murmured, before turning to the camera with a heroic glare. “Adrian Long! If you’re any kind of man, you’ll let her go! Stop hiding and torturing a woman!” His passionate defense earned him a chorus of online cheers. “Joey is such a real man! No wonder she fell for him. I think I’m falling for him too…” “Death to the abuser! Anyone who stands in the way of true love deserves to be struck by lightning!” “Ms. Vance, if you need a private investigator, contact me! I’ll help you find all the evidence you need, free of charge. We’ll ruin him!”

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To maintain my gold-digger persona, I’d always purr and ask my benefactor for some new luxury item after we were finished. And every time, he’d just smirk, a cold glint in his eyes, and pin me down all over again. He wouldn’t stop until I was sprawled on the sheets, utterly spent, my legs too weak to even stand. Only then would he casually toss a black card onto the pillow beside me. Until one day. After he left, I picked up the card and asked the System in my head, “His new intern… is she waiting for him in his office?” The System’s ice-cold voice replied:【Affirmative. They have a candlelight dinner scheduled for this evening. Host, your current objective is complete. Please proceed to the next target.】 1 “Slower—mmph…” My plea was smothered by Caleb Vance’s palm, turning it into a helpless whimper. His voice was a low rasp, laced with a cruelty he barely bothered to hide. “Didn’t you want a necklace? Let’s say… one minute for every one you want.” And with that, the soft mattress began to heave beneath us once more. I don’t know how much time passed. My vision went white, my body trembling uncontrollably. “Two minutes. You really can’t last, can you?” Caleb chuckled, his teeth nipping at my earlobe. “But I’m not finished yet.” Finally, I was left boneless on the bed, my energy completely drained. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my lashes still damp with unshed tears. Caleb, looking thoroughly satisfied, took a shower and changed. He glanced at me while adjusting his cufflinks. “What was that necklace you wanted?” My voice was a ragged whisper, but I was determined to milk him for all he was worth. “…The custom haute couture one. A million dollars a piece.” He casually tossed a black card onto the pillow next to me. “Buy ten.” I blinked. Suddenly, my back didn’t ache so much, and my legs felt a little stronger. He said nothing else after that. As he was about to leave, I called out, my voice still hoarse, “Aren’t you having dinner with me tonight?” “Something came up at the office,” he said dismissively. “If there’s a restaurant you want to go to, have my assistant make a reservation for you.” I stayed silent. Only when I heard the click of the front door did I manage to push myself up and grab the card. I asked the System, “His intern. Is she waiting for him in his office?” The System’s detached voice echoed in my mind: 【Affirmative. They have a candlelight dinner scheduled for this evening. Host, your current objective is complete. Please proceed to the next target.】 A soft breath escaped my lips, and I smiled. “You know, System, this gold-digger persona… it’s not so bad, is it? Good food, easy money.” The only downside was that no one cared. But I only wanted money, not love. The System ignored my commentary, its tone as flat as ever: 【Target number two is the heroine’s stepbrother. You are to complete this objective by the end of today.】 I froze, a flicker of a memory making me hesitate. After a moment of silence, I asked, “Ethan… where is he now?” 【The Sovereign Club.】 2 I squeezed into a short skirt and heels, my legs still feeling like jelly as I made my way to the address the System provided. Dusk was settling over the city. Inside the exclusive club, I stepped into an elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. Nothing happened. A man who had entered with me leaned against the wall, arms crossed, sizing me up with an amused expression. “Going to the penthouse, are we?” he drawled. “Which one of the guys brought you along?” I took a step back, eyeing him warily. His hair was a startling silver, and his playful eyes held a glint of mischief. Seeing me retreat, he leaned in closer. “Or… are you here to land a big fish?” His tone was condescending. I pressed my lips together and said nothing. He gave a lazy smile, reached past me, and swiped a keycard. The button for the top floor lit up. I looked at him, surprised. He let out a low whistle. “Well, if you don’t find what you’re looking for up there, you know who to call.” He looked familiar. I must have seen him with Caleb at some point. But men like them were always surrounded by a rotating cast of beautiful women; it was no surprise he didn’t remember me. The elevator doors slid open onto the penthouse floor. The space was crowded. Several people recognized the man beside me and came over to greet him, their eyes flicking to me with knowing smirks. “Look at you, Craig. A new one already?” They all laughed. Craig Croft shrugged. “Don’t start rumors. She’s not with me.” My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for my second target. My mind raced. How was I supposed to complete this mission tonight? Then I saw him. Ethan Sterling. My heart skipped a beat, and an idea sparked. I grabbed Craig’s arm, catching him off guard. “You know,” I whispered, “I’ve looked around, and I haven’t seen anyone I like. How about I try my luck with you?” He raised a surprised eyebrow. A moment later, he burst out laughing. “Alright, boys,” he announced to his friends, “looks like she’s mine now.” He led me through the crowd, handing me a glass of champagne. “A girl on her own in a place like this… you’ll get eaten alive.” He said it casually, but we both knew the truth. Women who came here alone weren’t afraid of wolves; they were afraid there wouldn’t be any. “And what about you?” I smiled sweetly. “Me?” He took a leisurely sip. “What do you think?” I didn’t have to think. There were no good men in Caleb Vance’s circle. I subtly guided him towards a more secluded corner. He sighed dramatically. “Honey, you’re a little eager, aren’t you?” Catching sight of my target out of the corner of my eye, I threw my arms around Craig’s neck and leaned in. Just as our lips were about to touch, a cool voice cut through the air. “Vivian?” I feigned shock, pushing Craig away. My eyes filled with tears as I scrambled over to Ethan, hiding behind him. My voice trembled as I spoke. “It was him… he was forcing himself on me.” I couldn’t see Ethan’s expression from where I stood. But Craig touched his lips, a slow, dawning comprehension on his face. He let out a humorless laugh. “So that’s your game, huh? You set me up.” If I had known then that he was my third target, I wouldn’t have dared to play with fire like this. But at that moment, all I knew was that I had to cling to Ethan’s sleeve and look as helpless as possible. “Please… help me.” Any normal man, seeing his first love being harassed and looking so pitiful, would have stepped in. Thank god, Ethan Sterling was a normal man. He shot Craig a cold look. “I’m taking her with me.” He paused. “And you should be more careful. Forcing yourself on women is the kind of thing that gets you arrested.” With that, he led me away. I heard a curse behind us: “Son of a bitch.” I didn’t have to look to know the expression on Craig’s face must have been priceless. 3 I cried my heart out in front of Ethan. But I carefully controlled the flow of tears, not wanting my eyes to get puffy and ruin the delicate, fragile aesthetic. Ethan handed me a tissue. I looked up at him, my vision blurry. “I’ve been… I’ve been really short on money. That man, he said he’d give me money if I came with him…” Ethan’s dark eyes were deep and unreadable. “You followed a strange man who offered you money. Did you really not know what would happen?” Tears streamed down my face. “But I really needed the money…” His voice held no judgment, only a calm detachment. “A gambling addict for a father? A sick mother? A younger brother who needs to pay for school?” …Those were the lies I’d told him back in high school. I just sniffled, looking up at him with a wounded expression, and said nothing. The small lounge was silent except for my soft sobs, but a different kind of tension began to fill the air. Then, Ethan’s long fingers reached out and hooked the collar of my dress. A cool draft whispered against my skin. He looked down, his eyes cold despite the smile on his face. “You dare to parade yourself in front of me covered in another man’s marks?” I went rigid. I followed his gaze. Caleb never left marks. What the hell happened today? My body trembled, and a fresh wave of tears burst forth. I threw myself against Ethan. “It was… it was that man from today…” That Craig guy looked like a playboy anyway. He could take the blame. Ethan’s fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Vivian,” he said, his smile sharp as ice, “why did you really come looking for me today?” To complete the mission. To conquer you. You’re the heroine’s brother, after all. As the villainess, it’s my duty to take you down. “You helped me,” I whispered, lightly tugging on his sleeve. Ethan just looked down at me, his expression unreadable. I gazed back at him, feigning timidity. Ever since I’d gotten involved with him in high school, I’d never been able to figure him out. He possessed the cool arrogance of a wealthy heir, with a cutting wit to match. It had taken all my skill at playing the pitiful damsel in distress to finally earn a sliver of his attention. Ethan wasn’t moved by sympathy; he just wanted a pathetic little pet he could control. And then one day, his so-called pet had dumped him… 【Host, Target Number One and the heroine have arrived at the restaurant,】 the System announced. I flinched. The pressure on my chin increased, the pain making me gasp. “Your mind is wandering? In front of me?” Ethan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He sat down across from me, crossing his long legs and pulling out his phone. “How much do you need?” I hesitated, then said weakly, “What if that man harasses me again?” “Stop playing games with me,” he said, tapping a finger on the table. “Vivian, don’t be so confident in yourself. Did you really think you could win me back just by crying and acting cute?” Just then, my phone rang. It was the custom ringtone I’d set for Caleb. I immediately silenced the call. The air grew heavy. Ethan glanced at me but didn’t ask. The excuse I’d prepared died on my lips. … “I have a cat,” Ethan said, a lazy smile playing at the corners of his eyes, though his tone remained cool. “It’s beautiful, soft fur. But it’s ungrateful. It follows whoever feeds it.” I didn’t know if he was talking about me, but I fell silent. 【Host, please complete the mission as soon as possible,】 the System urged. That was all the push I needed. I leaned over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and aimed for his lips. His hand tangled in my hair, yanking me forward and erasing my last bit of hesitation. Our lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss. Just as I was running out of air, he pulled back. His gaze lingered on the tip of my nose and the corners of my eyes, both now flushed red. Ethan’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, his knuckles sharp and defined. “What is it, Elara?” My eyes widened. The heroine? Wasn’t she supposed to be having dinner with Caleb? Why was she calling Ethan? Ethan stood up, walking out of the room as he spoke to his stepsister. At that moment, Caleb called me a second time. I answered, holding the phone to my ear. “What were you doing? Why didn’t you pick up?” he demanded, his voice laced with impatience. I softened my tone. “I didn’t hear it before. What’s up?” He paused. “That bracelet you wanted… pick a different one.” It was a blue diamond bracelet, the centerpiece of tomorrow’s auction. I didn’t have to guess. He was getting it for Elara. “Okay,” I said calmly. Caleb seemed taken aback. “You’re not angry?” I frowned. I got the money, and I’d completed my mission with him. What was there to be angry about? It was over between us. I just couldn’t tell him that right now. “You don’t have to get me anything, you know,” I said vaguely. “Don’t be difficult,” he grumbled, a rare, offhand attempt at comfort, before hanging up. I rolled my eyes. Just then, Ethan returned. I quickly composed my expression. “I’ll take you home,” he said. I looked at him. “I’m not going home.” “Then where are you going?” A faint smile touched his lips, his tone neutral. “Your place.” Ethan slowly rolled up his sleeves, saying nothing. “…It’s not like I haven’t been there before,” I added, blinking up at him. After a long moment, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Fine. But not tonight.” My heart sank. “Why?” “My sister’s drunk,” he said, his expression closing off. “I have to go get her.” I was stunned. Why are you getting her? Caleb is with her! The System chimed in at the perfect moment: 【Tonight is not the scheduled confrontation between Caleb and Ethan. Host, you must delay Ethan at all costs.】 I was silent for a moment, then asked in a small voice, “Can’t you just… not go?” “Tell me if there’s anything you want to buy.” With that, he turned and left. Ever since high school, Ethan had always put Elara first. I always told myself she was his sister. Even if they weren’t related by blood, she was his stepsister, his family. So when he abandoned me with a broken bone to deliver a paintbrush to Elara, I didn’t dare complain. It wasn’t until the System appeared that I finally understood. Elara was the heroine of this world. Everyone was destined to revolve around her. And I was just the villainess—her brother’s toxic first love, her future boyfriend’s kept woman. No wonder. “System,” I said calmly. “The mission is a failure.” I had two objectives tonight. One: Keep Ethan occupied so he wouldn’t interrupt the heroine’s date with Caleb. Two: Sleep with Ethan. For the first time, the System seemed at a loss: 【…Well.】 “If the world is going to collapse, so be it,” I said, my voice flat. “Shouldn’t the main characters be the ones worrying about that? What does it have to do with a villainess like me?” 【…Agreed.】 I sat in the lounge for a while, lost in thought, before pushing the door open. And ran right into him. The man from before. He was laughing and chatting with a group of people, but his smile vanished the moment he saw me. I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my wrist. His friends tactfully dispersed. His playful eyes bored into me. “Ethan’s gone.” I didn’t respond. “You change your tune pretty fast, don’t you, Ms. Vivian?” he sighed. “You had me investigated?” I snapped, pulling my arm away. He paused, then shrugged. “I was just curious about you.” When I remained silent, he leaned in, his voice a low, magnetic whisper. “I also know you’re sleeping with Caleb Vance.” I scoffed. “So what? I’m about to take the money he gave me and disappear to Hawaii.” Might as well enjoy it before the world ends. He was speechless for a moment. “Are you aware,” he asked, his curiosity piqued, “that Caleb has been getting very close to Ethan’s sister?” “I’m going to Hawaii,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Why would I care about his sister?” I pulled out my phone, ready to book a flight right in front of him. That’s when I saw the string of messages from Caleb: 【Were you just with Ethan Sterling?】 【You’ve got some nerve. Still have the energy to chase after other men?】 【And here I was, actually taking the time to pick out a necklace and a bag for you.】 【Answer me, Vivian!】 I fell silent. The last message was: 【You’re something else. The Sovereign Club, right? Just you wait.】 It had been sent five minutes ago. Damn this phone! Why didn’t I get a notification for the message? I gritted my teeth, my eyes darting around for the nearest exit. The man beside me smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “There’s no escape for you now.” I looked up at him, then followed his gaze. I saw three figures. Caleb Vance, his face a thundercloud, striding towards me. Ethan Sterling, a chilling smile in his eyes. And the long-haired, beautiful Elara. Wait… where did they have their candlelight dinner? Was it that close to the club? Right. Same commercial district. I instinctively turned away, trying to hide my face with my hair. I tried to duck behind the man beside me, to disappear from their line of sight. Security began to clear the area, ushering the gawking onlookers away. When the room was empty, Caleb’s voice was a low growl. “You’re really asking for it. Where do you think you can hide?” “You lied to me again, Vivian,” Ethan’s voice was so cold it sent a shiver down my spine. “You were with Caleb today. So who was Craig?” The man beside me, hearing his own name, froze. “What?” he said, turning to look at me. “So I was just your decoy the entire time?” Without his tall frame to shield me, I was completely exposed. I looked desperately at Elara. Come on! Do your heroine thing! Start a fight with Caleb and Ethan! Take them away! But Elara, with her innocent-looking face, simply pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit one, took a long drag, and slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. I was speechless. The three men, however, seemed completely unfazed. Fine. If you can’t beat them, join them. I tossed my hair back. “So what if I did?” With that, I turned and headed for the elevator. “I’ve booked a flight to Hawaii for tomorrow. I need to go pack.” A jolt of static crackled in my mind, and the System’s voice announced: 【Host. Considering the extreme difficulty of your current objectives, the stability team has revised your mission. 【You need only successfully conquer Target Number Three. Upon completion, you will be rewarded with three hundred million in cash, a lifetime of perfect health, and you will be permanently stripped of your ‘villainess’ designation.】 Caleb hadn’t even had a chance to stop me, but my feet were already rooted to the spot. My eyes lit up. I didn’t care about the last reward, but the first two— 【Who’s Target Number Three?】 I asked internally. 【The man beside you. Craig Croft.】 I was speechless. I tried to force a smile, but my face felt stiff. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Then, in one smooth motion, I spun around. I linked my arm through Craig’s, my face a perfect picture of radiant charm. “Hey handsome, you busy tonight?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384769”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel