Category: English

My online boyfriend and I agreed to finally swap photos. I thought he was catfishing me when he sent a high-res, professional press photo of Manhattan’s most famous, untouchable billionaire heir. I laughed out of sheer annoyance. I shot back a photo of an obscure A-list actress from an indie fashion magazine. [Dumbass. If you’re going to use fake pics from the internet, at least pick something niche, okay?] Then, I immediately blocked and deleted him. That very night, the billionaire heir himself made a high-profile post on X (formerly Twitter) looking for someone. [My girlfriend blocked me. Can anyone help me explain things to her?] Attached was a screenshot of my text message, complete with the dreaded red exclamation mark indicating he had been blocked. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. 01 After breakfast, I spent an hour meticulously putting on a full face of makeup. I sat by the window, waiting for the exact moment the natural lighting was perfect. Because today was the day my online boyfriend and I had agreed to do a face reveal. [Baby, are you ready?] His message popped up. I quickly replied: [I’m a little nervous, baby.] Even though we clicked perfectly and our values aligned, I had never told him that I was actually an actress. Although I was mostly known for playing “love-to-hate” mean girl roles, I still had a decent amount of fame. Worried he wouldn’t believe a photo, I planned to just FaceTime him in a bit. I wondered how he would react. He replied almost instantly. [I’m nervous too. I’m scared you’ll think I’m ugly.] [Baby, I really tried my best to pick a picture where I look good.] [Are you going to be disappointed in me, baby?] My online boyfriend had expressed insecurities about his looks more than once. But having seen way too many plastic, picture-perfect faces in Hollywood, I honestly didn’t care about outward appearances. [Of course not! As long as you aren’t using a fake photo to trick me, I’ll love you no matter what you look like.] [That’s good. Kisses for my baby QAQ.] [Kisses.] He was very clingy, and I didn’t mind pampering him. He went quiet for a minute, seemingly hyping himself up. A few minutes later, he sent an image. It was a man in an impeccably tailored suit, surrounded by a swarm of microphones. His gaze was sharp, his aura screaming absolute power. I recognized him instantly. It was the infamous heir to the Vance empire, Sterling Vance. Because his looks rivaled top-tier supermodels, every press photo of him went viral. And this particular shot was his most famous one. My online boyfriend sent another message. [Baby, this is me. What do you think?] [Nervously twiddling fingers.jpg] I froze. I had always thought my online boyfriend was grounded, highly educated, and on the same wavelength as me. I really liked him. But what did he mean by sending someone else’s press photo? A billionaire heir with a net worth in the eleven digits doing long-distance online dating? Was I sleepwalking, or was he? And I specifically told him not to use fake photos! Did he think I was some gullible idiot who had never used the internet? I absolutely loathe being lied to. A ball of fire instantly ignited in my chest. I quickly found an obscure, artistic photoshoot of myself and fired it back at him. [Dumbass. If you’re going to use fake pics from the internet, at least pick something niche, okay?] Without waiting for his reply, I blocked his number at the speed of light. 02 I met my online boyfriend while playing Valorant. I logged into the game and deleted my highest-affinity friend, making sure he had absolutely no way to contact me ever again. Then, I tossed my phone onto the couch, spent an hour scrubbing off my makeup, and curled up alone to sulk. All those photos of his abs and V-lines he used to send me… they must have been stolen from some random fitness influencer’s Instagram. And to think I had genuinely admired and complimented his physique! Dead liar! Fuming, I buried my head under the covers and went to sleep. That evening, I was woken up by my manager, Jess. Her voice sounded strange. “Harper, have you seen the trending topics on X?” “What is it?” I forced my eyes open and tapped into the app. Only then did I realize a massive hashtag had exploded while I was asleep. #BillionaireHeirOnlineDating My heart did a somersault. I was instantly wide awake. This topic… it couldn’t be what I thought it was, right? Cautiously, I clicked the hashtag. Sterling Vance, who hadn’t logged into his social media for centuries, had posted a tweet not too long ago. [My girlfriend blocked me. Can anyone help me explain things to her?] The attached photo looked more and more familiar the longer I stared. Wasn’t this my final chat log with my online boyfriend?! The only difference was, on his end, there were several unsent messages marked with bright red exclamation points. [Huh?] [It’s not a fake picture, baby. It’s really me.] [Baby?] [Why did you delete me? Can you at least listen to my explanation?] [Baby… #crying#] The internet was losing its collective mind. [WHAT?! Sterling Vance online dates?!] [I’m dying to know who the girlfriend is! Did she save the galaxy in her past life to match with Sterling Vance online?!] [But she thought he was a catfish! LMAO!] [Honestly, if it were me, I would’ve thought it was a fake pic too. Hahahaha!] [But it looks like Mr. Vance is genuinely asking for help to find her. Does anyone know this girl?] [If anyone knows her, tell her to reply! You’ve got the CEO of Vance Corp stress-tweeting!] … I scrolled through the comments, my pupils practically vibrating. So… my online boyfriend actually didn’t use a fake photo? He really was Sterling Vance?! While I was still reeling from the shock, a brand-new trending topic suddenly materialized. #ShippingSerenaAndTheBillionaire I gasped. Did the internet sleuths work that fast? Was I already doxxed? Nervously, I clicked on the hashtag. It was a new post from the currently trending “It Girl” actress, Serena Thorne. [No need for anyone to help explain! I know it was just a misunderstanding~] The implication was so strong she might as well have quote-tweeted Sterling Vance directly. Netizens were celebrating the new “power couple.” [The internet remains undefeated! Found her in minutes!] [So the online girlfriend is Serena?! WOOOW! An A-list actress and a billionaire heir? What a god-tier romance!] [Serena is too cute. She’s a famous actress doing online dating, yet she didn’t believe the billionaire was doing the same! Hahaha.] [Help, they are so perfect for each other. Serena is about to be a billionaire’s wife!] 03 Jess’s voice came through the phone again. “Do you see it now? “I was planning to put you on that lifestyle cooking show to win back some public favor, but now that Serena’s online romance with Sterling Vance just dropped, all the buzz for tomorrow’s live broadcast is going to be about her. You’re going to completely fade into the background!” I froze. Because I was a surprisingly good cook, Jess and I had specifically chosen a slow-paced, cozy reality show to salvage my somewhat rocky reputation. And the show was going live tomorrow. Now, with all the hype going to Serena, I’d just be an extra in her movie. I gritted my teeth. “What if… I’m the one actually dating Sterling Vance?” When I dated Sterling online, I used my private burner account, completely separate from my verified Hollywood socials. Because of that, not even my manager knew I was the one involved. I explained the whole situation to Jess. She was absolutely floored. “Serena Thorne has the guts to steal this kind of clout? Is she out of her mind?!” It was common knowledge in the industry that Sterling Vance was not only unforgiving but utterly ruthless in business. No one dared to mess with him, let alone publicly lie to him. Even though I knew for a fact I was his online girlfriend, I didn’t dare jump out and claim it. Because not only had I blocked him, I had literally called him a dumbass. Jess and I brainstormed all night but couldn’t come up with a foolproof damage-control plan. Running on zero sleep and a quick layer of makeup, I was shuttled to the reality show set. When I arrived, several cast members were already surrounding Serena, gossiping excitedly. “Serena! What’s it like dating a billionaire?” “You’re so good at keeping secrets!” “What’s Mr. Vance like in private?” “Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, did you take him off your block list?” The barrage of questions made Serena blush coyly. She covered her mouth. “He hasn’t reached out to me personally yet, so the block list… I’m not planning on letting him out just yet.” Nobody expected that answer. “What?! You still haven’t unblocked him?!” “You’re probably the only woman on earth who dares to treat Sterling Vance like that, Serena!” “I can’t even imagine how much he spoils you behind closed doors!” … Serena gave another shy smile. “Oh stop, you guys are exaggerating~” Everyone looked at her with envy. I was the only one who slowly furrowed my brows. She hadn’t taken Sterling Vance off the block list… wasn’t that because he was on MY block list? My subtle expression was instantly captured by the eagle-eyed viewers watching the live stream. [What is Harper doing? What’s with that face?] [I heard she’s insanely jealous of Serena dating the billionaire. She can’t even hide it!] [Lmao, stay mad. It’s not Serena’s fault Harper doesn’t have her luck.] [Why did the producers even invite Harper? Just to watch her pout?] … Serena noticed me too. She walked over with a radiant smile. “Harper, you’re finally here! The host said they’re announcing a huge surprise once everyone arrives. We were all just waiting for you.” I silently checked the time. Call time was strictly 8:30 AM. It was barely 8:05 AM. Sure, because of the Sterling Vance fiasco, I didn’t fall asleep until 5 AM and was a little sluggish, but I definitely wasn’t late! But the internet had already caught Serena’s drift. [So Harper still hasn’t fixed her diva attitude?] [Making a whole room wait for her. The audacity!] [Only our sweet Serena would still smile at her after waiting that long!] [Harper is so annoying. Can they just kick her off the show?] 04 I desperately wanted to roll my eyes at her. But I held it in. I looked at the host. “What huge surprise?” The host smiled mysteriously. The giant LED screen behind him flickered to life. It projected a screenshot of a brand-new tweet. Three minutes ago, Sterling Vance had posted exactly four words: [Going where you are.] The attached image was the logo of our reality show. The host announced: “Ta-da! Our show is incredibly honored to welcome our newest guest star—the CEO of Vance Corp, Mr. Sterling Vance!” The internet completely erupted. [Going where you are?! Is he literally chasing his wife onto a reality show set?!] [Remember what Serena just said? He hasn’t reached out, so she wouldn’t unblock him. And then the CEO literally pulls up to her workplace! He’s so whipped!] [This is a man who schedules interviews down to the minute, and he just drops everything for a reality show? If this isn’t true love, what is?!] [I can’t even imagine how sweet it’s going to be when he actually walks on set!] [God, let me reincarnate as Serena Thorne in my next life, please!] Serena’s expression was a masterpiece. First, her eyes widened slowly. Then, she covered her mouth in disbelief. Finally, she bashfully lowered her head. Someone immediately teased her, “Serena, the billionaire chased you all the way here! You should probably take him off the block list now, right?” She hid her face, pretending to be flustered. “Oh my god… I’ll see how he behaves when he gets here~” The room erupted into playful cheering. I was extremely confused. So, did Sterling Vance really believe Serena was his online girlfriend that easily? He even came on a reality show for this? I couldn’t help but recall my online dating days with Sterling. Whenever he made me mad, he’d send me money on CashApp. If I ignored him, he’d send me pictures of his abs. If I kept ignoring him, the waistband in the pictures would get lower and lower. He definitely knew how to coax someone. But… he was coaxing me. How did he suddenly turn into the guy Serena was claiming could be effortlessly manipulated by her? I couldn’t hold back anymore. I looked right at Serena. “If Sterling Vance ‘behaves,’ are you sure you can take him off the block list?” Serena froze for a second. Then she nodded quickly. “Of course.” Someone looked at me in confusion. “Harper, why would you ask that?” I didn’t answer immediately. If I announced right now that I was the real online girlfriend, the internet would probably crucify me, right? Netizens were already tearing me apart. [Is Harper mentally ill? Why is she suddenly stirring the pot?] [Her jealousy is practically oozing through the screen. Seeing how spoiled Serena is by Mr. Vance, she’s probably bitter she’s never experienced that.] [Seriously, what is there to question? Sterling Vance literally came on the show FOR Serena!] [She’s so incredibly rude. But whatever, when Mr. Vance gets here, he’ll definitely put her in her place for Serena! Kick her out!] Serena caught my hesitation and instantly straightened her posture. She frowned at me. “Yeah, what do you mean by that? If I can’t, are you saying you can?” Her tone was interrogative. Her eyes even carried a hint of provocation. “Harper, are you just…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the sarcasm was deafening. Are you envious? Are you jealous? Are you trying to start drama? Everyone on set stared at me. I was getting irritated. Unable to take the bullshit any longer, I spoke up: “Yeah, I can.” “He’s currently sitting on my block list right now. Wanna see?” 05 For a moment, everyone on set froze. Nobody expected me to say that. The room plunged into dead silence. People exchanged glances, totally speechless. The guest closest to me was the first to react, looking at me in pure shock. “Harper, what are you saying? “Who is on your block list? Sterling Vance?” I suddenly realized I had let my anger get the best of me and blurted it out on live TV. But you can’t un-ring a bell. I silently nodded. The guest looked bewildered. “So you’re saying… you also blocked Sterling Vance?” I casually replied, “Yeah.” Netizens: [This girl will literally latch onto anything for clout. Serena blocks the billionaire, so she has to say she blocked him too, even though he doesn’t even know she exists…] [And so what if she blocked him? Is blocking someone a flex? What’s with that attitude? Who knows, maybe she desperately tried to slide into his DMs, got ignored, threw a tantrum, and blocked him just to feel a false sense of victory?] [Exactly. Is she comparing herself to Serena? Serena and the CEO are having a lovers’ quarrel. Harper is just a pathetic interloper.] While the internet was raging, Serena marched up to me, looking astonished. “How could you possibly have Mr. Vance’s contact info?” I was completely sick of looking at her face. I decided to stop hiding. “Why wouldn’t I? Is it so impossible to believe that the person dating him online is actually me?” I stared Serena down, speaking with absolute confidence. The internet erupted in mockery. [Are my ears broken? What did Harper just say? She said SHE’S the one dating Sterling Vance?!] [She’s delusional… she has the nerve to fake this? Serena and the billionaire already practically confirmed it online. Isn’t she afraid Mr. Vance will literally blacklist her from Hollywood?] [Ahhhh I can’t stand this crazy bitch! One second she’s questioning people, the next she’s having a manic episode. When is Sterling getting here to humble her?] [Wait… she looks dead serious. She doesn’t look like she’s lying. And do you guys remember? The picture the girlfriend sent him was one of Harper’s obscure editorial shots.] [Do you have zero critical thinking skills? They literally accused each other of catfishing. Why would she send her REAL photo? Whoever it is, it’s definitely NOT Harper!] [Yeah, I don’t get why you guys are doubting this. The CEO tweeted he’s coming to find his girl. It’s obviously for Serena. Harper needs to log off and get therapy!] … Serena was furious. “What do you mean? Are you trying to say you’re the one dating Mr. Vance and I’m an imposter?” Despite her anger, there wasn’t a shred of guilt on her face. I found it incredibly strange. Why wasn’t she terrified of being exposed right here, right now? Seeing her eager to deny it, I cut her off. “Then why was your first instinct to say ‘imposter’? “What if we were both just dating him at the same time?” 06 Serena didn’t expect that. She was speechless for a few seconds, her face flushing red before she shouted back, “Mr. Vance would never do something like that!” Her reaction was a bit too dramatic. I just gave a simple, “Oh.” I was silently debating whether I should expose her on the spot. After all, a live broadcast was hard to control if things went south. But before I could decide, Serena went on the offensive. “Harper, I’ve always treated you like a good friend. But you questioned me first, and now you’re slandering Mr. Vance! Do you have amnesia? We’re on a live broadcast! “Even if I’m willing to let this slide, I have to defend Mr. Vance’s honor! If you can’t produce evidence right now, I want you to apologize to him and to me immediately!” She delivered the monologue with teary eyes and a trembling voice. She stood there, stubbornly biting her lip, looking like a delicate, wronged little flower refusing to break. The guests who had been quiet until now shot me accusatory glares. “Yeah, Harper, this is really uncalled for.” The internet was fuming. [Seriously, is Harper unhinged? She actually accused Sterling Vance of two-timing!] [Enough is enough! I feel so bad for Serena. Not only is this crazy woman attacking her, but she’s dragging Serena’s man down too!] [Serena looks like she’s about to cry! Someone hug her! And someone slap the shit out of Harper!] [Heh, she better produce some solid evidence. If she can’t, her career is over! Sterling Vance will ruin her!] I stayed silent for a moment. To prevent myself from accidentally liking tweets or posting from the wrong account, I always kept a separate, private phone for my personal life. And since I was at work shooting a show, I hadn’t brought that phone with me. When I explained my dilemma, Serena’s smugness became visibly apparent. She pretended to look sympathetic, but she clearly thought she had caught me in a lie. “You didn’t bring your phone? We have the internet, Harper. Can’t you just log into your account on another device? “Or… do you just not have an account at all?” I was so done. She was practically begging me to end her career. “Fine. I’ll log in.” I cut her off. Too lazy to argue, I grabbed one of the production team’s iPads and logged into my private Discord/Snapchat right there on set. Someone whispered, “Wait, that profile picture looks exactly like the one Mr. Vance posted…” Serena’s face paled. She clenched her fists and leaned in to look. I shoved the iPad screen directly in her face: “See it?” There was only one person on my block list. The username was simply “S”. The profile picture matched the exact one Sterling had tweeted out. Serena clearly hadn’t anticipated that I could actually produce receipts. She froze, completely paralyzed. 07 The internet was stunned. [Wait, what? Harper actually looks like she has proof…] [Holy shit! The profile pictures match! And she was put on the spot, so there’s no way she faked it that fast!] [I kind of believe it. That photo the girlfriend sent really was Harper’s, and it was super obscure. Why would a stranger have that saved?] [Does that mean Serena is the liar?! But in that scenario, why would someone send their real photo? I don’t buy it.] [It doesn’t matter what you buy. She brought the receipts. Serena is about to be canceled…] Serena struggled for a long time before she managed to squeeze out a single word: “This? This is…” Everyone crowded around the screen. Amidst the shocked stares, someone suddenly pointed out, “But… you don’t have any chat logs to prove you two were dating…” I paused. Because I had just logged in on a new device, the local chat history was completely blank. Serena looked as if she had just been resuscitated. Her head snapped up. “Exactly! And how does that prove this is Mr. Vance?! Anyone can use that profile picture!” Having said that, she suddenly put on a wounded expression. “But for you to pull this up so quickly… could it be… could it be…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, her large, teary eyes darted toward the directors behind the camera, brimming with the pain of betrayal. The implication couldn’t be more obvious. The netizens experienced a collective “aha” moment. [WTF! Yeah, why didn’t I think of that?! Harper’s ‘proof’ was way too smooth. Could this all be a scripted stunt by the producers?] [Oh my god. She acts super aggressive, forces Serena to demand proof, the crew magically hands her an iPad, she logs in flawlessly, and she just happens to have an account set up… this reeks of a pre-planned script!] [Wow, I’m so disgusted! If Serena wasn’t smart enough to catch the blank chat history, she would’ve been played!] [And Harper was talking about ‘two-timing’ earlier… was her next move to play the victim of a cheating billionaire for sympathy?] [So the producers are trying to use Serena and Sterling for clout to boost Harper’s career? That is so low!] The other guests began looking at me with weird, suspicious expressions. I even heard them whispering. “Would they really do that? I thought this was a live, unscripted show…” “Who knows who she slept with to get this storyline…” In that moment, I felt like I was turning to stone. I knew Serena Thorne was brazen enough to lie, but I didn’t expect her to be this good at gaslighting! If I have no proof, I’m a liar. If I show proof, it’s a scripted conspiracy. Where was the logic?! Seeing the anger shifting toward the production team, the host quickly stepped in to do damage control. “I promise you, everything happening on this show is 100% authentic and unscripted! As for the truth regarding Mr. Vance… he will be arriving on set very shortly!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410905”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Because he was “poor,” Liam constantly brought up marriage. Until the day I saw him casually open a bottle of wine that cost more than my entire year’s salary. It turned out the real Liam Vance was a billionaire heir, living a life of unimaginable luxury and excess. His friends asked him, “Aren’t you tired of playing the broke boyfriend for five years? When are you going to pull the plug?” Liam lazily lifted his eyelids: “Probably on the day of my engagement.” I didn’t throw a hysterical fit. I just waited until the day of his engagement party, when my flight carried me across the ocean. Later, I heard that the untouchable young master of the Vance family had suddenly backed out on the day of his engagement. He drove like a madman to a rundown rental apartment. When he saw the empty apartment, he completely lost his mind. 01 While scrolling through Instagram, my eyes were drawn to a specific photo. My gaze skipped past the glamorous group of people in the foreground and landed on a young man standing behind them. He was leaning lazily against a sofa, looking down and messing with his phone. One hand rested on the back of the sofa, partially obscuring his face, but his straight nose and deep-set eyes were clearly visible. After some hesitation, I opened the photo album on my phone, found a picture of Liam, and compared the two back and forth several times. Then, I opened a chat window with Chloe Davis, an old college classmate who I only occasionally interacted with by liking her posts. [Hi, can I ask if this guy is a friend of yours?] I circled the man in the photo and sent it to her. For some reason, Chloe seemed to have intentionally applied a slight blur effect to that specific area of the photo. Surprisingly, Chloe replied very quickly. [Why are you asking about him? Stay away from him.] I replied: [Nothing, I just thought he looked a bit like my boyfriend.] They looked too similar. I was so incredibly familiar with Liam; I could trace the exact curve of his brow when he frowned from memory. Soon after, Chloe fired back a barrage of messages. [Are you daydreaming in broad daylight, Maya? My husband can barely even get a word in with him. Your boyfriend, who barely makes a few grand a month, has absolutely no connection to him. [What, have you finally woken up and decided to dump that boyfriend of yours who has nothing going for him?] I cut off her sarcastic remarks and sent a simple “thank you” sticker of a bowing cartoon bear: [I was just asking. Never mind.] Chloe had always been competitive. Ever since she lost to my makeup-free photo in an unofficial campus beauty pageant during our freshman year, she had tried to one-up me in everything. Later, she married the son of a publicly traded company’s CEO, while I was dead set on dating Liam, a struggling, broke young man. Only then did she finally condescend to grant me access to view her Instagram stories, just so I could admire her fabulous life. Switching over to my chat with Liam, I asked: [Are you coming home soon?] The contact pinned at the top, “Liam Baby,” replied quickly. He sent a photo of a conference table in an office, along with a sticker of a little cat tilting its head and wiping away tears. [Still working overtime. Go to sleep early, don’t wait up for me.] [Working hard, love you~] I sent back a hug and two kiss emojis, then peacefully put my phone in my pocket. This was it. This was my, Maya’s, boyfriend. A corporate drone who opened his eyes every day just to grind for a measly salary. How could he possibly have anything to do with the people in Chloe’s circle? 02 When I got home, a message popped up instructing me to deliver a document to the Apex Club. I turned around, opened the company’s expense app, and hailed a ride, used to this kind of routine. The nights of adults rarely belong solely to themselves. Besides the time dedicated to love, the vast majority of it is occupied by unpleasant work. Stepping out of the car into the biting wind, I looked around. I had heard rumors about the Apex Club; the people who came and went here were all extraordinarily powerful. My boss was probably riding the coattails of some higher-up to even set foot in this private, courtyard-style club hidden deep within the city. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, men in sharp suits stood on either side. After I stated my business, they respectfully guided me into the inner courtyard. As expected, after delivering the document, I put on a fake smile and respectfully toasted everyone at the table. Most of the time, I didn’t need to personally run errands to deliver documents. But for business dinners like this, they always needed an attractive woman as decoration. “Mr. Wu, this is Maya from our tech department. I had her come over to explain things to you. She’s a total pro!” When a slightly chubby hand brushed against the back of mine, I lowered my wine glass and subtly dodged it. Often, I couldn’t firmly refuse, even if it meant enduring certain lingering stares. After a few drinks, I made an excuse to step outside for some fresh air. Turning a corner in the corridor, a door was left slightly ajar. The brass door handle gleamed with a cold, hard light, and the intricate carvings on the doorframe flickered in the night light. I glanced casually, my gaze about to sweep past, when a voice suddenly drifted from inside the room. “I’m dying laughing. Are you telling me Maya thinks Liam is broke, and that’s why she won’t marry him? “Gotta say, that girl has a good head on her shoulders. “I asked around at the bank. I heard her total savings amount to exactly $195,460. She withdrew every last penny to put a down payment on a place, saying it was for their marital home. “Two hundred grand? Can you even buy a decent bathroom with that?” My footsteps halted. I took a few steps closer in disbelief and listened closely. “But seriously, what kind of rags are you wearing? We’re all hanging out, and you’re still not done with this ‘broke guy’ cosplay?” I remembered the clothes Liam was wearing this morning. His jacket was a new down coat that cost over two hundred dollars. His pants were some cheap Amazon find for thirty or fifty bucks. And on his feet were the Balenciaga 3XL sneakers I had asked several personal shoppers to finally track down. I looked down at myself. My entire outfit, from head to toe, cost less than two hundred dollars. Thinking I might have misheard, I squeezed my palms, pulling out my phone to make a call. Right then, I saw a person inside the room lean forward, reaching out to casually grab a bottle of wine from the table. This movement completely revealed his profile, as well as the clothes he was wearing. I unconsciously gripped the hem of my shirt tighter, my knuckles turning white from the force. My eyes were locked onto the scene unfolding before me. In that instant, I wanted to speak, but it was as if the freezing wind had paralyzed my throat. I couldn’t make a sound. Liam shot a glance at the man who had just spoken. “I have my own timeline. Mind your own business.” “Ha, you’re hilarious. What kind of timeline takes five years? Didn’t you say it was just a meaningless fling at first? Don’t tell me you actually fell for Cinderella?” The hand Liam was using to light a cigarette paused slightly. After a long moment, he let out a scoff. “What are you talking about?” “Even if you do have feelings for her, can you really marry her? My advice? Cut it off clean and get out now. Don’t waste the girl’s time. Let her go find a good guy to settle down with.” “Jason—” Liam exhaled a puff of smoke, looking at him lazily. “You talk too much.” “Heh,” Jason gave him a half-smile. “I might talk too much, but if you ever dare make me download some stupid discount app at 2 AM to ‘help you get a deal’ for your Cinderella again, I’ll kill you myself.” At that moment, a young man wearing glasses raised his hand politely. “I think those discount apps are great. I maxed out my ‘Billionaire’ badge on it~” No one paid him any attention. Jason continued his interrogation: “When do you plan on coming clean to her?” Liam paused. “Probably on the day of my engagement.” “Is it definitely the Sterling family?” “Mhm.” “How are you going to tell her? This whole thing is pretty messed up.” “Just don’t tell her. Let ‘Liam’ simply vanish.” “That works too. Just don’t let there be any accidents. A girl like Maya will probably never cross paths with anyone in our circle for the rest of her life anyway. “When the time comes, give her a sum of money. She’s been with you for five years, at least treat her right.” These words were like a wrecking ball from another world, violently smashing into my brain. I looked at Liam, desperately hoping he would speak up at that moment, say something, anything different. She’s not like that. Maya is not like that. She is your legitimate, official girlfriend of five years. But he didn’t. He didn’t argue; he didn’t say another word. I stood rooted near the doorway, feeling as if the freezing wind had penetrated my very bones, swelling my skin until it ached. I even wanted to see through the swirling cigarette smoke, to clearly see his unreadable expression. The bare branches of the crabapple tree were heavy with winter snow, bent over, unable to straighten up no matter how hard they tried. 03 I pulled out the condo purchase contract I had been keeping in my bag. Tears smashed onto the paper one by one. I hurriedly wiped them away with my hand, afraid of ruining the document. I had always believed that Liam was afraid to bring up marriage because he was broke and terrified he wouldn’t get past my parents. He had heard perfectly clearly when my mom called me that day. “You say he has no parents, fine. But his education is lower than yours, his salary is lower than yours, he has no house, no car. What exactly do you see in him? Just his face? “With your qualifications, what kind of guy couldn’t you find? “Come home. Mom has so many successful young men to introduce you to. Any one of them is better than him.” I had covered the phone receiver. “Mom, he’s leading a new project right now. He’ll get a raise next month. Besides, he’s ambitious and treats me well. I just like him. “As for buying a house, the money we’ve saved together these past few years is enough for a down payment. Our combined 401ks and salaries will cover the mortgage. Things are only going to get better…” That day, after hanging up the phone, I squatted by the bed, pulled out all my bank cards, spread them out on the mattress, and looked up at him. “Let’s get married. I have the money. I’ll take care of you from now on.” Liam looked slightly stunned. An emotion I couldn’t read flashed through his eyes, but all he said was, “Wait just a little longer.” At the time, I thought he wanted me to wait until he achieved more success, until he could afford to give me a proper wedding. But I hadn’t understood that look in his eyes. Looking back now, it was probably a look of amusement. Amusement at my naive gullibility, at my burning passion that he found utterly worthless. For days, I had been racking my brain trying to figure out a natural, perfect way to surprise him. But I never imagined that while I was picturing a future filled with warmth and love for us, he was calculating how to extract himself from this deceptive game. It was too ridiculous. I laughed until I couldn’t stop the tears. It took an immense amount of self-control to stop myself from pushing that door open. I took step after step backward. The weight of this truth made it hard to breathe. I looked down and pressed the call button. Looking up, Liam raised his hand, and everyone in the room instantly went silent. I spoke, keeping my voice perfectly normal. “Are you still at work?” Liam’s lazy voice came through the receiver. “Yeah, probably another hour or two. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I wiped away my tears. “I took a bad fall. I’m at the hospital…” In my peripheral vision, I saw Liam sit up slightly. “Which hospital?” He gestured to the person next to him to hand him his coat. Liam hung up the phone and stubbed out his cigarette. His friend asked, “Where are you going? You just sat down.” “Girlfriend’s in the hospital. Gotta go.” “Since when does she count as your girlfriend…” Before he could finish his sentence, Liam, leaning against the doorframe, turned his head and shot him a chilling glance. That single glance, completely devoid of emotion, was as freezing as a deep winter pool. It silenced the speaker instantly, filling him with a sense of dread. 04 I didn’t go to the hospital; I took a cab straight home. The apartment Liam and I rented was a modest one-bedroom. Right by the entrance was a bookshelf lined with books. Those were the books left over from when I forced Liam to take night classes to get his bachelor’s degree. My mom was right; when I met him, his education was lower than mine. He told me he only had an associate’s degree. We were both young then. I just thought he was smart and had his whole life ahead of him. If he worked hard, he wouldn’t be stuck at that level forever. Even if he ended up raising pigs, a guy with a bachelor’s degree would get paid five hundred bucks more. Back then, I worked my day job and stayed up late into the night helping him study and do practice tests. Even when we were brushing our teeth together in the morning, I made sure to use every spare second to open an English app on my phone to review the vocabulary we had learned the day before. For ten years’ worth of past exams, Liam did them once, and I reviewed them with him once. Because we were short on time, it only took us a month and a half to pass the exams. To celebrate, we even scoured every coupon app before going out for hot pot. But now, looking through the information Chloe had asked around for, I only felt a profound sense of absurdity. [Liam who? I’ve never heard of that name, but I can’t tell you his real name either.] [You’re asking about his education? I heard he went to Columbia for undergrad, and then to Harvard for his Master’s. He’s incredibly young.] I leaned heavily against the sofa, pressing my palm hard against my forehead, my stomach cramping with sharp pain. The door was opened from the outside. I looked up to see Liam, looking slightly disheveled, having rushed back from a fruitless trip to the hospital. There were countless missed calls from him on my phone. He leaned against the doorframe, panting slightly. I watched him approach in silence. He lifted my hands, cupping my face and examining it closely. Only then did his tense expression finally relax. “Where did you fall?” Knowing he had been played, he wasn’t angry. He just played with my fingers and smiled. “I’ll put some ointment on it for you. Otherwise, if we wait any longer, the wound might heal on its own.” In that moment, perhaps because I was acting too brave and quiet, he had no idea the agony I was enduring. I studied him seriously. He always seemed this composed, as if he had never lost his cool over a difficult problem. I used to think that an early life of hardship and poverty had forged his calm disposition, giving him the fortitude to remain unfazed even if a mountain collapsed in front of him. But I never considered that this kind of relaxed demeanor was more likely nurtured by extreme wealth and power. I pulled my hand away, staring straight ahead. “Liam, my mom is pressuring me to go home for blind dates.” The movement of Liam’s hands paused. Before the smile could completely fade, it froze on his handsome face. “But—” I turned my head, smiling through tears, my eyes filled with the usual affection. “I told her, I only want to marry Liam. I’m waiting for him to marry me.” I just looked at him like that. I hadn’t planned on crying, but I didn’t know why my tears refused to obey my command. “I said, we bought a little house, and once we’re married, we can move in. Then we’ll have a kid, and you two can help us take care of it. A boy or a girl would be great. A girl would look like you, with big eyes, and a boy would be like me, with fair skin.” I looked down, pulling the contract from my bag. “Look, when I bought the condo, I put your name on it too.” Look, Liam. How are you ever going to repay me for these five years of foolish youth and genuine devotion? Not stepping foot at the summit of your world, every extra step I took toward you was superfluous. Are you secretly mocking me in your heart? The everything I offered was just something you could dismiss with a wave of your hand in your world of luxury. Liam’s fingers twitched. He looked down to flip through the contract. It was a long time before he looked up. “Maya, I…” “What’s wrong?” I acted casual. “Is it a super huge surprise? Anyway, now you don’t have to be afraid of my mom scolding you anymore.” The look of panic that had appeared when I cried vanished from Liam’s face. He reverted to his usual cynical, carefree attitude. “Yeah, our Maya is so capable. You said you’d support me, and you’re supporting me.” His voice was too soft, his tone too light, so much so that I almost missed his next words: “Don’t cry. What are you crying for? I never said we weren’t getting married…” But Liam, with what identity are you going to marry me? I leaned against the table, looking down as I dialed a number. While waiting for the call to connect, I quietly watched Liam bustling around the kitchen. Compared to me, he was actually the better cook. When the call connected, I said softly, “I’ve made up my mind. I can go to the States.” “The date?” I was in a daze. When I met Liam’s gaze, I was instantly jolted awake. “January 28th. Yes, that exact day.” That was the day of Liam’s engagement.

I was in a serious long-distance relationship with a guy I met online. Finally, we decided it was time to meet up in person. But when I arrived at the restaurant, the guy holding the rose bouquet at our designated table was my older brother! Well, my stepbrother, to be exact. In that split second, my entire world shattered. Before he could spot me, I crouched behind a decorative planter, pulled out my phone, and sent him a text with shaking hands: 【I don’t think this is going to work. We should break up.】 As the heir to a massive real estate empire, he had never been dumped before. Certainly not during his very first attempt at romance. He completely fell apart. For days, he just stayed in his room, totally devastated. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I walked into his room and snapped at him, “Look, it’s just a breakup. Could you please pull yourself together?!” During our argument, his thumb accidentally hit the call button on his chatting app. The next second, the ringtone inside my pocket blast through the room, deafeningly loud. My brother slowly lifted his head. “…What?” Me: “…” Silence was the only thing left in that room. 1 I’d been seeing this guy online using a burner account for a while now. From what I could tell, he was sweet, loaded, and fit—basically the perfect golden retriever boyfriend type. The only mystery left was what he actually looked like. Other than that, he hit every single one of my specific preferences perfectly. We had finally agreed to meet up tomorrow. I was incredibly nervous about this first date. I’d been standing in front of my closet for over half an hour, trying to decide on an outfit, still completely lost. Ding-ding! My phone went off. It was him. BugsBunny: 【Bunny baby~ Tomorrow is finally the big day! I’m so excited!】 My screen name was Miss Bunny, so he decided to call himself Bugs Bunny. I giggled, grabbing my phone and flopping onto the bed. He sent three more messages in rapid succession: 【I am unfathomably excited to see you!!!】 【Are you excited? Are you?】 【Baby, you definitely want to see me right now too, don’t you?】 I could practically feel his hyperactive energy radiating through the screen. Of course, I was excited. This was my first real relationship, and since we’d been talking online for over a year, I had real feelings for him. But seeing how cute he was being, I got a sudden wicked urge to tease him a bit, just to see how he’d react. Miss Bunny: 【Hmm~ Actually, I’m not that excited.】 After I sent that, the other side went silent for a long time. I had no idea what he was doing. Could I have actually upset him?! I hurriedly opened the text box, ready to explain that I was joking. Ding-ding! Suddenly, he sent a photo. It was a shirtless photo of his abs, from the neck down. He was leaning back on a dark leather couch, his discarded black dress shirt thrown carelessly over one corner, revealing smooth, defined muscles. The most eye-catching part was his perfect six-pack. He looked seriously in shape. I stared at the screen, my heart doing backflips in my chest. He sent a casual follow-up message: 【Baby, how about now? Are you excited to see me yet?】 He was smart, I’ll give him that. He knew exactly what worked on me. Miss Bunny: 【EXCITED!!! Just wait until I see you. I’m going to kiss you to death.】 2 I was sitting there grinning at the photo like an idiot when my mom suddenly called me. She said she had made late-night snacks and told my brother and me to come down to the dining room. I have a brother, though we aren’t related by blood. He’s three years older than me, named Elias Walker. Four years ago, my mom married his dad, merging our families, and I moved into the Walker estate with her. Elias’s father is a finance mogul in the city, insanely wealthy, but surprisingly down-to-earth and affectionate with his family. He loves my mom very much and has always treated me like his own daughter. Elias, as the heir to the family business, usually manages Walker Group affairs overseas, so I rarely saw him. The few times we did meet, we were just politely cordial to each other, maintaining a slight, distant reserve. A few days ago, he suddenly returned to the States, saying he came back to meet someone very important. During this time at home, he was staying at the mansion. Both Elias’s father and my mom were thrilled about him being home. Especially my mom. She spent all day in the kitchen trying out new recipes, practically force-feeding Elias, insisting that since he was rarely home, he needed to feel the warmth of the family. I knocked on Elias’s door. “Hey, are you asleep?” I asked politely. Through the door, a cool, deep voice came from inside the room: “Not yet. Is something wrong, Chloe?” “Mom told me to come get you for some late-night food she made.” “Okay. I’ll be down in a minute.” After that brief, overly formal exchange, I was ready to walk away when I suddenly heard rustling sounds coming from inside his room. It sounded like he was… putting clothes on? Meaning he wasn’t wearing any just now! Well, I guess when your body is that fit, you don’t really worry about the cold. 3 By the time Elias came down, I had already finished two bowls of Mom’s chicken soup and let out a small burp. I have to say, Mom’s cooking is seriously good. When I stretched my greedy hand toward the pot of chicken soup again, Mom was too quick. She smacked the back of my hand instantly. “Chloe, how much have you eaten already? Your brother hasn’t had any yet.” Elias was wearing a black dress shirt, looking tall and lean, with a formidable presence. He sat down opposite me and spoke with polite deferral. “If Chloe likes it, let her have more.” Seeing how agreeable he was, Mom’s maternal instincts immediately went into overdrive, and she started piling massive scoops into his bowl. Elias stared at the chicken overflowing in his bowl, unsure of where to even start. I shot him a meaningful look with my eyes: 【Bro, if you can’t finish that, I’ll gladly take some.】 He completely ignored me. Hmph. I knew that polite deferral was just for show. Elias’s father looked at him, slightly curious and a bit gossipy. “Elias, I heard you came back this time to see… someone important?” Hearing that, Elias suddenly stopped sipping his soup. I don’t know who he was thinking of, but his face went instantly red. He managed a low, “Yeah.” Then he buried his head in his bowl and drank the soup furiously, attempting to use the huge bowl to hide his rapidly reddening face, not realizing it was a completely futile gesture. Because even his neck was bright red. Elias was… blushing?! Oh my god. My jaw practically dropped into my soup. Even though I hadn’t spent much time with Elias over the years, I knew he was a very cold, composed person. Probably because he took over the company at such a young age, he had been through the wars of corporate politics, so he was much more calm and collected than most people his age. He always seemed completely unflappable. So, forget blushing—I’d almost never seen him show any strong emotion at all. But! Right now! He was actually blushing over this “important person”? My intuition was shouting at me: I’m about to get a sister-in-law! 4 Seeing Elias’s reaction, Mom and his father exchanged a knowing smile. “Well, looks like you’ve got a situation going on!” Elias didn’t respond, just kept drinking his soup with his head down, his face redder than a fire engine. Mom and Elias’s father had been worried that Elias was going to end up alone. Even though he was gorgeous, well-educated, and basically the definition of “highly eligible,” he had one problem: his personality was too cold. Growing up, women had always tried to get close to him, but he always maintained a polite, icy distance. They were worried his personality would either drive women away or that he just wasn’t interested. Who would have thought he had quietly gotten into a relationship on his own! Seeing that everyone was focused on Elias, I made my move on the chicken leg. “Congratulations, Bro,” I teased, aiming the chopsticks at the pot. “When are you bringing my future sister-in-law home for dinner?” While talking, I very naturally and casually grabbed that massive chicken leg I’d been eyeballing and dropped it into my bowl. I had just taken a massive bite out of the chicken leg. Mom: “Eat, eat, eat, all you do is eat. Why can’t you be like your brother? When are you going to bring home a nice guy for me to meet?” I didn’t answer. My jaw kept working, but in my head, I was thinking: 【How do you know I haven’t already?】 Since we hadn’t met in person yet and the relationship wasn’t stable, I hadn’t mentioned it. But hmph. Once we meet, I’m bringing him straight home to give you a massive surprise! 5 Today was finally the big day: meeting my online boyfriend in person. I was sitting in my car and took a photo of the massive rose bouquet I had bought, sending it to him. 【I’m almost there! Look, I even got you your favorite flower!】 The photo didn’t show my face. According to our agreement, we wouldn’t show our faces until we met, to keep the surprise. The shot only showed a bit of my pink dress and the beautiful, lush bouquet. Almost immediately, he replied: 【Baby looks so beautiful! You’re practically an angel! 【I love roses the most! Thank you, Baby! Kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss! 【I’m already at the place, waiting for you!!!】 He had picked the location. The Ritz-Carlton. The most luxurious spot in the city. A single meal could easily be six figures. It was the top choice for high-society galas. I followed the signs up to the fiftieth floor. He had reserved the entire rooftop lounge. By the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, a man was sitting quietly on a couch. He was wearing a cream-colored suit, tall, looking incredibly elegant. The sunlight poured through the glass, enveloping him in a warm, distant halo. His back view alone was enough to make my breath catch. Even just seeing his back, I knew he was a stunning man. I held my bouquet, standing just around the corner of the entryway, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst. Taking a deep breath, I was just about to walk over to him when he happened to turn around. I was suddenly staring directly at his face. A face that was identical to Elias Walker’s. !!! It felt like I had seen a ghost. I instantly pulled my head back behind the corner. Oh my god. My online boyfriend is my stepbrother! Is my life a terrible soap opera?! I could never have imagined that the romantic, clingy, sweet-talking guy on my phone and the cold, distant, hyper-professional Elias Walker were the same person. Then I remembered what he said about coming back to the States to meet a very important person. At the time, I was thinking, I’m about to get a sister-in-law. Now I see… I’m the sister-in-law?! My mind completely crashed. This whole situation was too insane. I didn’t know how to even begin processing it. Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrated with a text he had just sent: 【Baby, is that you? I thought I heard a noise by the entryway.】 6 I stared at the messages on my phone, my feelings a chaotic mess. After a long moment, my hands shaking, I typed out a single sentence: 【I don’t think this is going to work. We should break up.】 The instant I sent the message, Elias, who had been sitting on the couch anxiously waiting, suddenly stood up. He was staring at the breakup text on his phone with a look of pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading. After standing there stunned for a long time, he started frantically tapping on the screen, sending a flurry of messages: 【Are you kidding, Baby? 【I really don’t think that’s a funny joke. Let’s not say things like that, okay? 【Baby, reply to me. Why aren’t you talking?】 My mind was completely blank. This whole thing was way too messy, and I truly didn’t know what to say. Seeing no reply from me, Elias was on the verge of a breakdown. His hands were shaking so much he could barely type: 【You’re really doing this? 【Did I do something wrong to upset you? Tell me, I’ll fix it immediately. Just please don’t do this. Okay? 【I don’t want to break up. 【I don’t care what you say, I don’t agree to this. 【Where are you right now?】 I watched the chat window overflow with messages, completely lost. I decided I had to get out of there first. If Elias saw me, there would be no way to explain this. I began to tiptoe away, ready to leave. But just at that moment, the phone in my pocket started blasting my ringtone. It scared the absolute life out of me. It was Elias.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410907”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I started dating Alexander Sterling, I overheard him talking to his identical twin brother, Caleb: “Alex, come on. Let me swap in for you and have a little fun with Elena. She’ll never know.” Alexander’s response was cold, indifferent: “I don’t care. Do whatever you want.” I pretended I hadn’t heard. I stayed. I kept playing the part of the devoted girlfriend to the “wrong” twin. But later, when Alexander saw the bruises on my neck—marks Caleb had left—he finally snapped. He grabbed his brother by the throat, his eyes burning with a terrifying madness: “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?!” 01 Late at night, after I’d just stepped out of the shower, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Alexander. A pinned location for an ultra-exclusive, members-only club downtown. I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white. Before I could even type a reply, a second message popped up: “Don’t make me wait, Elena.” I let out a shaky breath and typed back: “On my way.” I threw on my clothes as fast as I could. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I ran into my stepfather, Rick. He was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes glassy with that familiar, nauseating hunger. He blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into the cramped hallway. “Dressing up late at night? Where do you think you’re going, princess?” He stepped toward me. I could smell the stale beer on his breath. I retreated a few steps, creating distance. “Alexander is expecting me,” I said, my voice cold. At the mention of that name, Rick froze. The predatory smirk faltered. He knew Alexander Sterling wasn’t someone to mess with. I took the opportunity to bolt past him toward the front door. “You think you’re untouchable just because you found a billionaire’s son to hide behind?” Rick spat at my back. “Wait until he gets bored of you. I’ll still be here.” I looked back at him, my hand on the doorknob. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?” I slammed the door before he could respond. 02 The club was the kind of place where the furniture cost more than my college tuition. Everyone inside was draped in designer labels and old money. In my simple hoodie and jeans, I felt like a glitch in the system. A server led me toward a private VIP suite on the top floor. Before he could open the door, voices filtered through the mahogany. “Come on, Alex. I heard Elena is totally wrapped around your finger.” “Let me swap in. Let me play the boyfriend for a few nights.” Laughter erupted inside. “Damn, Caleb. You’re really trying to steal your brother’s girl?” “You don’t get it,” someone else chimed in. “That girl is pure. She makes him home-cooked meals, reminds him to take his vitamins… she’s that old-school devoted type. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that?” “Would Alex really let you?” “Are you kidding? They’ve shared everything since they were kids. It’s just another game to them.” Then, Alexander’s voice—deep, resonant, and utterly heartless—cut through the noise: “Fine. Consider it your welcome-home gift.” The room erupted in cheers. The server looked at me, his face a mask of professional awkwardness. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry. I smiled at the server, straightened my shoulders, and pushed the door open. I hadn’t approached Alexander Sterling for love. I had approached him for a shield. To ensure I wasn’t bullied at school and to keep my stepfather’s hands off me at home. When you’re drowning in a shark tank, you don’t care who throws you the rope. You just climb. 03 The golden boys in the room whistled as I walked in. They looked at me like I was a toy on a shelf. I kept a soft, gentle smile on my face as I walked toward the center of the lounge. Alexander and Caleb were sitting side-by-side. They had the same face—chiseled, pale, and dangerously handsome. To anyone else, they were identical. But I knew the difference. Alexander was a storm—heavy, oppressive, and dark. Caleb was a wildfire—reckless and sharp. “Elena. You’re here.” A hand reached out and pulled me down onto the sofa. I looked at the man holding me. It was Caleb. I knew, and yet I leaned into him. It didn’t matter which twin it was, as long as the Sterling name protected me until I finished my exams and escaped my hellhole of a home. “This is my brother, Caleb,” the man said, interlacing his fingers with mine. I saw the real Alexander flinch slightly at the introduction, but he quickly masked it with a nod. I looked at Caleb with adoring eyes. “Alex, honey, I bought some electrolytes for you on the way. You’ve been drinking too much. Why don’t you take one?” I had said this to the real Alexander many times. Caleb looked at the bottle in my hand, his lips curling into a smirk. “Sure, baby. Feed it to me.” In my peripheral vision, I saw Alexander. He had a cigarette between his fingers, but he wasn’t smoking. He was just staring at us. 04 As the night went on, someone suggested a game. “Kings. High card makes a rule.” Caleb and I both drew. “Looks like the couple wins,” a guy laughed. He was a friend of the brothers, clearly in on the swap. Caleb leaned in, his hand gripping my chin, pulling me in for a kiss. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room. Alexander had kicked the coffee table. He stood up, looking down at us with eyes like cold steel. “I’m tired. We’re done here.” Caleb stopped an inch from my lips. His eyes darkened. After a long moment, he let go of me and stood up. “Right. I forgot you just got back, Caleb,” Alexander said, his voice dripping with irony. As we headed for the door, I reached out and zipped up Caleb’s jacket. “The wind is cold tonight. You just got over that fever, don’t get sick again.” I said it while Alexander was standing right behind his brother, watching me. I had spent three days at Alexander’s penthouse last week, nursing him through that fever, making him soup, and making sure he slept. “Elena. Let’s go home,” Caleb said, pulling me into a hug. As I turned to leave with Caleb, the real Alexander finally spoke: “Elena.” I stopped and looked back at him like he was a total stranger. “Who is it that you actually love?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. I lowered my eyes to hide the mockery in them, then looked up at Caleb. “I love Alexander. The man I love is Alexander Sterling.” I watched Caleb’s expression turn cold at my words, even though he had to keep playing the part. 05 Alexander thought I loved him. Everyone in his circle thought I was obsessed with him. They had no idea that my life was a carefully constructed lie designed specifically for him. I was a survivor. If cancer hadn’t taken my father when I was twelve, I would have been just another girl raised with love. My biological mother died when I was young, but my first stepmother—my dad’s second wife—had been kind. She made me cookies and told me stories. Then, on my 12th birthday, my dad collapsed. Stage four. A year later, he was gone. I remember him holding my hand in the hospital, wiping away my tears. “I’m sorry, Elena. I couldn’t give you your 13th birthday cake.” “Don’t be mad at me for leaving, okay?” I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head. I didn’t want cake. I wanted him. But the clock stopped. His last words were: “You have to live, Elena. Whatever it takes.” Then the clouds moved in. My stepmother lost everything in a bad investment. I became a burden. My relatives didn’t want me. Then she remarried. She married Rick. The day we moved into his house, Rick used a spare key to open my bedroom door while I was sleeping. I ran to tell my stepmother. She slapped me. “Don’t start rumors. He was just checking to see if you were cold. If you ruin this marriage, you’re on the street.” From then on, I pushed a desk against my door every night. I stood by the bed in the dark, holding a pair of scissors, watching the doorknob turn. Once. Twice. Three times. School became my only sanctuary. Until it became a different kind of hell. I was a straight-A student. After one midterm where I topped the class, I was dragged into the girl’s locker room and had a bucket of ice water poured over me. The ringleader was Tiffany Mills. “Elena, because of you, I got a B. Do you know how much my dad hit me for that?” Tiffany gripped my chin, looking at me like I was a cockroach. Her friends stood around, counting the seconds between each slap they gave me. When I told the principal, he just said: “Tiffany is a star student from a wealthy family. She wouldn’t do that. You girls need to learn to get along.” As I left the office, I saw a group of boys walking down the hall. Everyone stepped aside for them. The leader was Alexander Sterling. 06 I started observing him. Collecting data. I waited outside a bar he frequented until I saw him come out alone, looking drunk and miserable. I walked up to him, making sure he could see my school ID. I handed him a pack of mints. “You look like you’re hurting. These help with the nausea. Want one?” Alexander looked up, his dark eyes intense. When he didn’t answer, I took his hand and placed the mints in his palm. “Don’t worry. They’re sweet.” He looked me up and down. “In a school uniform at a bar?” I blushed. “I… I was worried about you.” He leaned back and smirked. “Are you stalking me?” I nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be alone while you were drunk.” “You like me?” I bit my lip and nodded again. “Yes. I’ll be good to you, Alexander.” He paused, then reached out and flicked my ID card. “Elena Vance. Class 3.” “I’ll give you a chance,” he said dismissively. Before I could react, he kissed me. It was hard, almost desperate. When he let go, he said, “Remember to breathe next time. Go home. Don’t come back here.” As soon as he turned away, the shyness vanished from my face. I wiped my mouth. The plan was in motion. 07 The next time Tiffany Mills tried to corner me, Alexander showed up. The door to the storage room was kicked open. Alexander stood there with his security team, his expression freezing. That was the first time I saw Tiffany Mills lose her cool. She was forced to her knees and slapped repeatedly by his staff. “Tiffany, if you’re going to hit a dog, you have to check who the owner is first.” Alexander pulled me into his arms, looking down at Tiffany with pure disdain. A dog. That’s all I was to him. A loyal, obedient pet. When he dropped me off at home that day, we ran into Rick. When Rick saw me getting out of a luxury car, he grabbed my hair. “You little slut! Acting all pure and innocent with me, and you’re out here turning tricks!” Before he could finish, a bodyguard crushed Rick’s wrist. Rick was kicked to the ground and beaten until he couldn’t scream. He spent a month in the hospital. I calculated the time I had left until graduation. I played the part of the doting girlfriend perfectly. I ignored his flings and his coldness. I didn’t need his love. I needed his shadow. I became the girl who stayed the longest. People whispered that Alexander actually had feelings for me. Until tonight. Tonight, they realized he didn’t have feelings at all. I was just a toy he could hand over to his brother. But I didn’t care. Because very soon, I was going to leave them all behind. 08 “Elena, you’ve been daydreaming this whole drive.” Caleb’s voice snapped me back to reality. We were in front of a luxury apartment. I put on a confused face. “Alex? Did you move?” Caleb seemed annoyed by the name. He gripped my hand harder. “Yeah. I have a lot of places.” Inside, he pinned me against the sofa. “What were you thinking about?” “I was thinking about what kind of soup to make for your stomach,” I said softly. Caleb’s eyes softened. “Good girl.” He kissed my wrist, then looked at me, his voice husky. “Elena. Who am I?” “You’re Alexander.” He bit my wrist. Hard. “Ow! Why did you do that?” I faked the pain. “Who am I?” “Alexander,” I whispered, biting my lip. He bit my neck this time, like a predator marking its kill. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. The doorbell rang incessantly. Caleb cursed and went to open it. “What are you doing here?” Alexander pushed past Caleb and walked straight to me. “The game is over,” Alexander said, standing over me. “That’s no fun,” Caleb smirked. Alexander didn’t waste time. He pulled me up from the sofa. The bite mark on my neck was staring him in the face. His expression went dead. It was the silence before a hurricane. Bang! Alexander slammed Caleb against the wall, his hand around his brother’s throat. “You’ve been away too long. You forgot the rules?” “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?!” 09 Alexander was out of control. This was a side of him I’d never seen. Caleb seemed surprised too. He choked out a laugh. “Why so sensitive, bro? You’re the one who sent her to me. Don’t act like the good guy now.” Alexander’s veins were bulging in his arms. After a few seconds, he let go. Caleb rubbed his neck and waved at me. “Hey, Elena. Let’s re-introduce ourselves. I’m Caleb.” He wasn’t embarrassed. He just laughed. Alexander stepped in front of me, blocking my view of his brother. I couldn’t read his eyes, but I knew exactly what emotion I needed to show. I looked at Alexander, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t yell. I just whispered: “Did I do something wrong? Do you not want me anymore?” I saw his Adam’s apple bob. Then, he pulled me into a warm, tight hug. “I’m taking you home.” His voice was low and surprisingly gentle. Behind his shoulder, I saw Caleb’s smile fade. His dark eyes were unreadable as he watched us. “The game is over,” Alexander said as he led me out. “Stay away from her.” Caleb leaned against a table, hands in his pockets. “I can’t promise that, Alex. You know we used to share everything. You never cared before.” “Shut your mouth,” Alexander warned. Caleb just snapped his fingers at me. “Remember the name, Elena. Don’t call me by his name next time.”

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My assistant was supposed to post my retirement statement, but in her panic, she accidentally uploaded my “End-of-Year Private Summary.” In the forty-five seconds before she could delete it, my anti-fans had already taken screenshots. They sliced up my summary, mocking me line by line, tearing into me like starving wolves. But as they cursed at me, the people behind the screens suddenly started to cry. Because the very first sentence of the third paragraph read: “The chemo hurts so much. Grandma, I don’t think I can hold on anymore.” 01 Half a year had passed, and I was trending again thanks to my anti-fans. I honestly didn’t expect it. The speed of internet trolls these days was terrifying. From the moment my assistant, Maddie, realized the mistake to the moment she deleted it, only forty-five seconds had passed. But in that brief window, the haters had captured the entire summary. They even paid gossip accounts to boost the traffic, grandly announcing they would dissect my summary word by word to publicly execute me. I found it all quite meaningless. I didn’t want to waste my time explaining anything to them. But seeing Maddie crying her eyes out in the hospital room, hiccuping as she blamed herself, I changed my mind. I suddenly wanted to explain myself, just this last time. So, I logged into my main account and sent a direct message to my biggest anti-fan, “Sweetie Pie Crunch,” an account with over 260,000 followers. Suppressing all my emotions, I patiently explained what happened. But her hostility towards me was deeply rooted. Even when I told her Maddie had accidentally posted my year-end summary instead of my cancer retirement statement, she just replied with a rolling-eyes emoji. Then came a text dripping with sarcasm: [Making such a scene, you just want to grab the year-end headlines, right? Well, we’re helping you go viral now. Aren’t you thrilled? Elena, pretending to have cancer is so last season! Someone as full of lies as you, I’ll make sure everyone sees your true colors!] 02 Sweetie Pie Crunch blocked me. Then, she posted screenshots of our chat, vowing to cyberbully me until I quit the entertainment industry forever. In less than half an hour, the hashtag #ElenaFakesCancer shot to number one on the trending list. Even my own fans started to doubt me, wondering if I was really faking an illness for clout. Looking at those comments, I took a deep breath. Originally, I just wanted to hide this from my family and pass away quietly. But now, it was a massive spectacle. My manager, Sarah, told me I had to inform Nathaniel and the Sterling family. After all, when I’m gone, a family member needs to sign the cremation papers. But before I could even open my contacts, my husband Nathaniel’s call came through. His tone was as freezing as ever, laced with fury: “Elena, you did this on purpose, didn’t you? You knew Chloe’s new show premieres tonight and she needs that number one trending spot. How could you use such a despicable trick to steal her thunder!” I let out a bitter laugh. Nathaniel was my husband, but he only ever had eyes for Chloe. Soon, Chloe’s sickly-sweet, ever-so-forgiving voice echoed from his end of the line. “Nate, don’t yell at Elena. She hasn’t had any projects or exposure for half a year; it’s human nature to take desperate measures. “It’s fine, I won’t hold it against her. After all, as her older sister, I always feel like I owe her.” Chloe was my biological older sister. When we were little, just to steal my limited-edition Barbie doll, she deliberately abandoned seven-year-old me at an amusement park. I was kidnapped by traffickers and sold to a remote, impoverished village deep in the Appalachian Mountains, where I lived like livestock for twelve years. The very first day I was brought back to the Sterling family, I told everyone the truth about what happened back then. But no one wanted to believe that the elegant, highly-educated Chloe could do such a thing. Instead, because of my hillbilly accent and the deep-seated insecurities bred from growing up in the wild, they treated me like a pathological liar. In the beginning, I tried to please them. I tried to fit in. But no matter what I did or said, they thought I was playing manipulative games to bully Chloe. Just like right now. “Elena, the biggest regret of my life is marrying you to protect Chloe’s reputation!” Nathaniel’s voice returned, delivering an ultimatum dripping with disgust: “I refuse to let this mistake continue, and I won’t let Chloe suffer anymore! Next Wednesday, we are getting a divorce!” 03 Next Wednesday, huh. I glanced at the calendar. What a coincidence. I wasn’t going to live to see next Wednesday. “No need to wait until Wednesday. I’ll have my assistant drop off the divorce papers tomorrow. Sign them, and it’s done.” I finished speaking and hung up. My direct messages were blowing up again. Sweetie Pie Crunch had just leaked the first paragraph of my summary. This summary was Sarah’s idea. I originally wanted to write a suicide note, but she said the word “will” or “note” would break her. She begged me to write it as an “End-of-Year Summary” to give her the illusion that I’d still be around to write one next year. So, I just chronicled a few things that deeply affected me this year. The paragraph the haters posted read: [February 10th, my birthday. Mom and Dad gave the massive three-tier cake to Chloe, and handed me the tiniest mango cupcake. They looked at me with bright eyes, saying they hoped Chloe and Nathaniel could get back together. I looked at Nathaniel, who didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with this, and I couldn’t control myself. I smashed the cupcake on the floor. I told myself, once I find the evidence of what happened back then, I’ll make them all regret it.] The haters’ magnifying glasses zeroed in on the cake. They swarmed the comments under the post: [Elena is so dramatic. Holding a grudge over a piece of cake? Look at Chloe, she never complains about stuff like this!] [They gave you a small piece for your diet! Look at you, an actress who’s swollen like a pig!] [Reading this just makes my heart ache for Chloe! Elena is such a flop. She’s been trying to steal Chloe’s things since they were kids!] Unexpectedly, amidst the chaos, Sweetie Pie Crunch sent me another DM. She asked: [Elena, did you smash the cake because they completely forgot you’re severely allergic to mangoes?] I replied with a simple: [Yes.] As a professional anti-fan who studied my every move, of course she knew my allergies. She texted back: [Then why didn’t you write that clearly in your summary? Why not let the internet know you did it because your closest family forgot your allergy?] Write it clearly? This summary was meant for the people who actually cared about me. Those who truly understand me don’t need explanations. And those who refuse to understand me, like the Sterlings and Nathaniel—even if I explained it a million times, they would just think I was acting. I didn’t bother discussing it with her. She stayed quiet for a few minutes, then sent another message: [Fine, I won’t use the first paragraph to drag you. But the rest of it? You can never wash that clean!] She didn’t know that I never intended to wash anything clean. 04 Two minutes later, she released the second screenshot. She specifically added mocking emojis and enlarged the text. I clicked on the image. My own words stared back at me: [In May, Chloe and I were on the same movie set. Her leading role was bought and paid for by the Sterling family. The director didn’t dare cross her, but I did. At the wrap party, I slapped her across the face. I don’t regret it. If she pulls that stunt again, I still won’t let her off.] That night, Chloe slipped a drug into my drink, trying to send me to a sleazy producer’s hotel room to film a sex tape and destroy my career. Her assistant, Hannah, had a sudden attack of conscience and warned me. Furious, Chloe fired Hannah on the spot and had her bodyguards break one of Hannah’s arms. I slapped Chloe in the hotel lobby to get justice for Hannah. Paparazzi caught the moment, and it made front-page news. The next day, Nathaniel and the Sterling family publicly backed Chloe, leading the entire internet to cyberbully me. Surrounded and harassed by extreme fans, I was pushed, hit my head, and fainted. I was rushed to the hospital. That was the day I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. Actually, I had begged my family to get tested for a bone marrow match, hoping for a miracle. But they just looked at me with disgust. “Do you really think faking a terminal illness will make us forgive you for what you did to Chloe? Let me tell you, unless you actually drop dead, we won’t believe a word you say!” “Chloe even stepped aside so you could marry Nathaniel! What more do you want? Why must you torture her?” They didn’t just curse at me. To avenge Chloe, they pushed me hard. I fell down a flight of stairs. Thanks to them, my internal bleeding worsened an already hopeless condition. From that day on, I moved into the hospital and never asked them for help again. I just endured the chemo, quietly preparing to say goodbye to this world. 05 The second screenshot caused an even bigger uproar. Chloe’s fans dug up photos of my slap from May as “evidence.” Right on cue, Chloe posted an update on her socials: [Elena, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not caring enough about you, which is why you can’t let the past go. But a new year is coming. Let’s turn the page. I’m your big sister, I won’t hold grudges. Come find me tomorrow night, I’ll bring you on my New Year’s livestream to help you get some traffic.] Her “kindness” made my “violence” look utterly demonic. The public lined up to spit on me online. Some even tagged the police, demanding I be locked up for assault. Nathaniel’s second call came right then. “Elena, what the hell is wrong with you?” he growled. “I deeply regret ever having feelings for you. A vicious, cheap woman like you makes me sick just by breathing.” Oh, so he did have feelings for me once. But two years ago, when he got drunk and slept with me, he claimed I was just a stand-in for Chloe, just a meaningless release. The line went silent for a moment. Then, he sighed with profound regret. “Honestly, I wish they never found you. You ruined the peaceful lives we were meant to have.” My heart shattered, dying completely in my chest. I hadn’t cried through all my rounds of chemo, but I cried now. I wanted to scream: Then who ruined MY peaceful life?! Just then, Maddie burst into the room. “Elena! Look at Twitter! Something huge just dropped!” Nathaniel heard her over the phone and immediately flew into a rage. “What did you do to Chloe this time?! Do you want me to have the lawyers finalize the divorce tonight?!” 06 I wanted to answer, but my nose started bleeding again. I pinched the bridge of my nose, leaning forward, and spoke weakly into the receiver. “Nathaniel, look at the internet yourself. My nose is bleeding. I feel sick. I don’t want to talk anymore.” He let out a cruel sneer. “Elena, you are pathetic! Chloe gets a nosebleed from the dry weather, so you fake one too? Take a look in the mirror! A wild bird from the mountains could never compare to a swan like Chloe!” Pathetic? I remembered the day I moved out of the mansion. Both Chloe and I happened to get nosebleeds at the same time. I had just told them I had cancer, that bleeding could be fatal for me. But Nathaniel didn’t even look at his wife. He scooped up Chloe, panicking like a frightened child over a minor dry-weather bleed. When I confronted him through my pain, he accused me of imitating Chloe to steal attention. He had even smirked and cursed me: “It would be best if you actually did get cancer and died. Then nobody would compete with Chloe.” Well, his wish came true. The wild bird was dying. “Speak!” his voice dragged me back to reality. “Are you bullying Chloe again? Are you forcing me to send the lawyers now?” I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “No need.” 07 I prepared the divorce papers half a year ago. I wouldn’t waste his lawyer’s time. And I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow. Right now, I’ll have Maddie deliver them. I truly, finally, did not want this man anymore. 08 After Maddie left, I checked the trending pages. I saw what the “huge drop” was. Hannah, Chloe’s former assistant who had disappeared for six months, had created an account and posted hard evidence about what really happened in May. She uploaded screenshots of Chloe bribing the crew, paying for the drugs, and orchestrating the hit on my reputation. The internet froze. [Hannah worked for Chloe for two years. Her proof looks legit.] [But why would Chloe do that to her own biological sister?!] Chloe’s loyal fans desperately tried to defend her, arguing that I was constantly stealing Chloe’s roles and she was just retaliating. But Hannah immediately replied: [Those roles were Elena’s to begin with. Chloe actively blacklisted Elena, threatening producers not to hire her, while buying PR articles claiming Elena used the casting couch. Elena never touched Chloe’s resources.] Hannah was telling the truth. From my first day in Hollywood, Chloe spread rumors about me. Nathaniel believed her and used his wealth to blacklist me. I spent a year as an extra until Sarah, an independent agent, took a chance on me. But every time Sarah secured a good role, Chloe would swoop in and steal it, then buy articles playing the victim. Now, with Hannah blowing the whistle, the internet was a warzone. A Chloe fan furiously typed: [If Elena was really being abused like this, why didn’t she just speak up?!] Right then, Sweetie Pie Crunch posted our DM screenshots with the caption: [I can answer that! Because Elena Vance doesn’t know how to open her damn mouth!] 09 She posted the screenshot where I admitted they forgot my mango allergy. At first, people mocked me for being a doormat. But gradually, as someone pointed out, “Wait, why would her own parents not know about a deadly allergy?” the wind shifted. Bystanders were confused. How could a wealthy heiress be treated like this? A few insiders, previously paid off by Chloe, finally broke their silence. [Elena didn’t grow up in the Sterling mansion. She’s the kidnapped kid who lived in the mountains for twelve years.] [My cousin used to work as their maid. When Elena first came back, the elite socialites made fun of her accent. They tricked her into drinking mouthwash thinking it was a cocktail, and poured red wine on her cheap clothes at galas just to laugh at her.] [The Sterlings thought she was an embarrassment. They heavily favored the princess, Chloe, and constantly put Elena down.] [I don’t get it. If they hated her so much, why bring her back? Why not leave her in peace?] I had asked my parents the exact same question. But every time, they slapped me and told me to remember my place. I had silently vowed to make enough money to get my adoptive Grandma—the woman who saved me in the mountains—out of the psychiatric facility. But just as my career started, cancer kicked my door down. “Elena!” Sarah pushed the door open, her eyes red. She stared at the screen, her voice thick with emotion. “Do you get the feeling… that this Sweetie Pie Crunch is actually trying to help you?” 10 Sarah analyzed it: Though she used an anti-fan persona, the account was actually clearing my name. By leaking the “ugly” truths, she was forcing the public to see my victimhood. “When I held press conferences to explain things, no one believed us. But when a ‘hater’ leaks the truth to mock you, the rumors shatter instantly.” Sarah smiled bitterly. “If Nathaniel and your family understood you half as well as your biggest hater, you might have survived.” “Look, she’s dropping more details. It’s weird, her writing… it feels like someone who lived with you for years.” Sarah frowned. I stared at the avatar. I wanted to ask her who she really was. But my phone buzzed violently. The Sterling family group chat was exploding.

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When I was thirty-two. I became a sugar mama to a broke college boy. One day, while walking down the street, I saw him carefully holding a girl in his arms. His eyes were red, looking aggrieved yet restrained: “Please don’t think I’m dirty…” We had a very formal, transactional relationship. Why did he make it sound like I had defiled him? If he felt dirty, there were plenty of people who wouldn’t. I exhaled a puff of smoke, turned to look at a blonde guy passing by in a fake Balenciaga shirt, and said: “Ask him if he’s willing to call me ‘Mommy’.” 01 Cole was brought to my office that afternoon. The sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-second floor, landing on his Balenciaga T-shirt, Yohji Yamamoto pants, and Louis Vuitton sneakers. Fake. Fake. And fake. But you had to admit, he had a gorgeous face. Unlike Ethan, who had a cold, aloof, and rather proud demeanor. Cole looked like a product of modern technology, a plastic surgery template. Exquisite, cheap, and a bit vulgar. But I had eaten too much fine dining lately; today, I wanted some junk food. Since they were all selling themselves anyway, why should I find someone who did it unwillingly? As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew I had found the right guy. “I heard you want to be my mom?” “Should I call you that right now?” This guy was way too eager. But I wasn’t into that kind of roleplay. It felt like today he’d want me to launch his career. Tomorrow, he’d ask me to get him a lead role in a movie. The day after, when his sugar baby status got leaked, he’d be begging me to suppress the scandal. It was too cliché. Way too cliché. I ignored him and flipped through the file my secretary, Mr. Davis, had handed me. He came from a small town in the middle of nowhere. His family wasn’t poor; his situation was much better than Ethan’s, whose dad was a severe alcoholic and mom a gambling addict. His grades were average, much worse than Ethan’s. But he was actually two inches taller than Ethan. I looked up at him; he smiled, showing all eight teeth. He was handsome, sure, but a bit too fawning. I curled my lip, feeling a slight sense of disdain. “How many have you been with? Men or women?” Cole’s expression remained natural, showing no shame at being offended. “Just you!” Bullshit. I said, “Go downstairs later and Mr. Davis will take you to the hospital for a full-body checkup. If everything is fine, come see me in a week.” “Yes, ma’am.” He left, looking thrilled. As he turned around, I caught sight of his perky rear end. I pondered for two seconds whether he was wearing padded underwear. 02 A week later. Cole hadn’t shown up yet, but I ran into Ethan instead. He was wearing a faded dress shirt, washed-out jeans, and a pair of Converse. Fresh and handsome, the quintessential poor but brilliant campus crush. He stepped off the bus; he wouldn’t even splurge on an Uber. I really had no idea what he spent the $30,000 I gave him every month on. Don’t misunderstand. He didn’t come looking for me; I was usually the one who went to him. He was working part-time at the coffee shop downstairs from my office. Looking like that, he naturally attracted young girls asking for his number again. Ethan politely refused, saying he already had someone he liked. In the past, I would have confidently assumed he meant me. After all, I was beautiful, rich, and generous. The key was that last part. What was the difference between not liking me and not liking money? It wasn’t like I needed him to be madly in love with me. We were all adults here. Taking so much from me but not offering a shred of affection seemed a bit hypocritical. I walked in and casually found a seat. Ethan didn’t notice me. Just then, a meticulously dressed girl walked in. Ethan spotted her immediately, and at the same time, froze in nervousness. The girl was wearing a tweed Chanel suit and a Miu Miu hair clip, exuding a wealthy heiress vibe. I hadn’t looked closely at her the last time we were on campus. This time, I got a clear look at her face. I ran through the socialites of New York high society in my head, but couldn’t place which family she belonged to. While my mind wandered, Ethan’s face had turned completely red. I heard him cautiously ask: “Are you here to see me?” The girl raised her chin and said: “No, I just heard the coffee here is good.” If Ethan had a tail, it would be drooping right now. “Can you recommend some coffee?” Ethan immediately and diligently went through all the coffees on the menu. He explained everything in painstaking detail, describing the origins and tasting notes of every single bean. The people waiting in line behind her got impatient and left. The girl, however, seemed to have tuned him out and casually ordered the house special. Ethan thoughtfully explained how to drink it, warning her that it might be a bit bitter. He was completely different from how he acted in front of me—he was acting as humble and subservient as possible. I didn’t feel angry. Just confused. Why didn’t he act like this in front of me? I was his client, after all. A moment later, it dawned on me, and I chuckled softly. He seemed to think— That his youth, traded for my $30,000 a month, a gifted condo, and countless presents, was a fair exchange of equal value. The men in my family had a tradition of keeping mistresses. I had seen female college students, actresses, and even some professionals. A few days ago, my uncle almost got a girl pregnant and had to pay a three million dollar severance fee. A sugar mama as generous and not-hard-to-look-at as me was incredibly hard to find. Consent didn’t mean he wasn’t getting the better end of the deal. Before, when I spoiled Ethan, I didn’t care about this pocket change. He took my money but stood me up several times. He’d use excuses like tutoring, working part-time, or having student council work or lab duties. I never got mad; I even had my housekeeper make soup and deliver it to him. Once, my dad caught me and, thinking I was actually dating, gave me a warning: “Don’t get in too deep.” My indulgence toward Ethan made everyone think my feelings for him were quite extraordinary. It’s funny to say. It’s not that I hadn’t had moments where I thought that myself. Before I kicked my brother out of the country and sat in the CEO’s chair, I had never been in a relationship. Of course, I hadn’t wanted to be in one, either. Watching this unfold, I felt a bit bored, so I got up and left the coffee shop. As I was leaving, the bell on the door jingled. The person standing behind the counter seemed to look over. 03 That evening. Cole arrived at my villa. To my surprise. His physical exam report showed he was clean and perfectly healthy; not even a minor nodule. Unlike his previous outfit, which was covered in fake, massive logos, he dressed very simply this time. A white T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His previously heavily-gelled hair now hung loosely, slightly covering his eyes. Mr. Davis must have given him instructions to dress like Ethan. I frowned, but before I could say anything, the person in front of me pulled off his T-shirt. An eight-pack of abs, firm and defined. I couldn’t tell if they were real or not. He let out two goofy laughs: “Ma’am, do you not like me dressing like this?” “I don’t like it either.” Saying that, he walked over familiarly and touched my hand. I didn’t react in time. I instantly felt like I had been taken advantage of by a cheap street punk. Until he took the hair tie from my wrist. He gathered his somewhat long hair and tied it into a small bun at the back of his head. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I heard him say: “Ma’am, are you hungry? I can make you some noodles.” I almost choked on my sigh of relief. He watched the housekeeper come out of the kitchen, grab a trash bag, and leave, saying with a hint of regret, “Looks like you already ate.” I understood the implication, hesitated for a moment, and asked him: “Have you not eaten? Do you want some…” Before I could finish, he said, “Thank you.” He even found an excuse for himself: “I need to eat enough so I have the energy to serve you later, ma’am.” Me: “…” Then he made himself three bowls of noodles and inhaled them like he was starving. I recalled the information in his file; he shouldn’t be so poor he couldn’t afford to eat. I said: “There’s still steak in the fridge.” Cole shook his head and said: “No need for steak. I have to work first before I can get paid.” I understood. For a moment, I actually felt a bit gratified, once again confirming my decision. I really should find someone like this whose sole focus is securing his meal ticket. Half an hour later. I regretted it. The clean scent of body wash enveloped me. The initial trace of unfamiliarity was replaced by intense heat, quickly making me unable to think about anything else. Cole didn’t forget to provide emotional value. “Ma’am, you’re so beautiful. I really hit the jackpot.” “Ma’am, this feels amazing.” I felt like I was degrading myself. Like I had hired a farmhand in a rural village. This feeling lasted until noon the next day. I asked in despair, “Did you take something?” “What?” Cole froze for a moment. “Yeah, I took ten pills, just to make sure you were satisfied, ma’am.” Bullshit. He didn’t take anything. He was just trying to show off his “service attitude,” trying to fool me! Finally. At two in the afternoon, I dragged myself up, clutching my lower back. I had a meeting I couldn’t miss, so I had to crawl to the office if I had to. While I was getting dressed, I heard Cole say: “Ma’am, can you get me into the entertainment industry?”

I was driving past a local high school when I saw a young girl tugging on the faded sleeve of a teenage boy, timidly calling him “Julian.” The boy had a clean, handsome face, standing tall and straight like a birch tree. I said, “Bring him over.” “Miss?” I lifted my chin, my tone indifferent: “No reason, I just feel like sponsoring someone too.” (01) Our butler, Mr. Henderson, was always highly efficient. The “Julian” that Chloe mentioned soon appeared before me. When he was brought in, I was flipping through his file. Julian Vance. Exceptional looks. Even his ID photo captured a clear, ethereal handsome face. Just based on his features, he could easily outshine the posters of the latest teen heartthrobs plastered all over the streets. However, his current condition wasn’t great. He looked mentally exhausted, with a faint hint of haggardness. I wasn’t surprised; I guessed he had run into some trouble. Julian was an orphan from a poor background. His only family was his grandmother, who had just been diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer and was lying in a hospital bed. He had been an outstanding student since childhood, working part-time to subsidize his family’s income, and was admitted to Columbia University as the valedictorian of his high school. Everyone who knew him praised him endlessly; his resume was flawless. Chloe Davis was his neighbor and childhood friend. But a teenage girl’s feelings are hard to hide. I could see her admiration. No wonder Arthur was so furious. (02) Arthur was usually a very calm and indifferent person. I had never seen him experience intense emotional fluctuations, but lately, he was frequently distracted, and his eyes were dark and brooding. Yesterday, before I even walked into his office, I heard him on the phone. It was the condescending advice of an elder, half-admonition, half-warning. He said, “Chloe, you have your SATs coming up. You need to focus on your studies. Be careful about how you interact with your classmates; you never truly know someone’s heart.” His usually cold and composed tone couldn’t hide the burning jealousy. My hand, which had been about to knock on the door, paused. I had originally had the housekeeper make soup to bring over, but suddenly, I lost all interest in having dinner with him. Lately, his attitude towards me had been visibly perfunctory. Even his verbal greetings felt like a chore. He didn’t care who I was with or what I was doing. But he was like that with everyone. Until the news that he was sponsoring a poor student reached my ears. Arthur wasn’t the type to love doing charity. But for her, he planted an entire field of flowers, took her out to sea to watch the sunrise, accompanied her on walks through every corner of the city, and spent a fortune to get her an exchange student spot. He even got jealous like a hot-headed teenager. People laughed at him for keeping a mistress in a golden cage. At first, my reaction was displeasure, and then I wanted to cut off the relationship. After all, he was someone I had held onto for so many years. “Miss,” Mr. Henderson frowned, hesitating, “About Mr. Arthur sponsoring that girl…” Mr. Henderson was a butler specifically chosen for me by my family. He was loyal but not rigid, and sometimes his methods weren’t exactly above board. His eyes were dark; he probably meant to “handle” Chloe, this “stumbling block,” for me. “Let’s go,” I interrupted him. Let it be. Making a fuss would be meaningless; it would just make me look like a bitter woman. I couldn’t be bothered to bring this matter out into the open. If he deliberately hid it from me, what would it matter if I found out the truth? Throw evidence at him and force him to admit it? And then watch him choose? He might choose me; after all, that’s what he used to do. The Sterling family was an untouchable giant, but their only daughter, Evelyn Sterling, was an eccentric cripple. I was a piece of fat meat that everyone coveted. Or, to put it another way, I was like a rotting corpse. Even if it stank to high heaven, there would still be a flock of vultures circling me, eager to peck me away. I was a highly sought-after marriage prospect that they all scrambled for. Even if Arthur was completely unwilling, he would maintain this marriage in name only. Just like in the past, when the capricious me suddenly threw a tantrum at him, he would only endure it and look at me calmly. Then, when my anger subsided, he would send me a gift as an apology. The gifts were probably picked out by his assistant. Sometimes it was a designer bag, sometimes jewelry; it didn’t show much thought. But I didn’t need him to say anything, and my anger would easily dissipate. After all, everyone said I liked him, loved him dearly. I never denied it, because I thought so too. But now, just thinking about that possibility gave me a slight feeling of nausea. It felt disgusting. But I never felt this way before. The glass reflected my face, pale and bloodless. I stared at myself absentmindedly. Seeing that I had no intention of speaking, Mr. Henderson stayed silent and pushed my wheelchair, taking me away. (03) My health was poor, and I had trouble with my legs. It wasn’t that I couldn’t walk at all, but rather that I was too weak to stand for long periods. But when he saw me sitting in the wheelchair, Julian didn’t show the pity and shock that others usually did. He didn’t even glance at my legs much, respectfully lowering his eyes, his features gentle and restrained. Mr. Henderson informed him of the details of my sponsorship. The terms were exceptionally generous and lenient. If he met my requirements, he could even receive a large sum of money sufficient to settle his family. Julian’s fingers, hanging by his sides, curled slightly. The gifts of fate always come with a price tag. He couldn’t possibly fail to guess that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Mr. Henderson, ever thorough, saw his hesitation and explained that this time he was just coincidentally chosen as an investment target for a certain charity project. I didn’t say anything, although I felt it was unnecessary. I was certain Julian wouldn’t refuse. He must have been crushed under the pressure. Arthur wouldn’t actively target Julian, but Arthur only needed to show a hint of displeasure, and there would be people who thought themselves clever doing things to “please” Arthur. For example, easily destroying Julian’s part-time job, taking away his grandmother’s hospital bed, and then spreading some rumors so he couldn’t even stand at school. Someone with nowhere to turn, what room did he have to refuse? Who else could he ask for help, and who could he ask what exactly he had done wrong? But he didn’t say “okay” from beginning to end. Until Mr. Henderson left and closed the door. “Miss Sterling,” Julian’s eyes were clear, and he asked frankly, “What do I need to do for you?” I felt a little uncomfortable and rested my head on the table. After a long while, I murmured an acknowledgment. Julian noticed my discomfort. Seeing that I didn’t speak, he hesitated for a moment, then poured me a glass of warm water. His long fingers pushed the porcelain cup towards me; it had a jade-like texture. Then, I saw him speak. I couldn’t hear the words, only saw his beautifully shaped thin lips moving, seeming to ask if I needed him to call Mr. Henderson. The sunlight fell on my eyelashes. I squinted, observing his distant and handsome features. Suddenly, I felt very satisfied. He was quite good-looking, no worse than Chloe. What did I want him to do for me? I hadn’t decided. I was just curious. (04) The Sterling family had many eyes and ears. The matter Arthur tried so hard to conceal reached my ears within half a day. It was just that in the past, I didn’t care and pretended not to know. In my eyes and heart, there was only Arthur. I relied on him; as long as he stayed with me and was willing to coax me, that was enough. But this time was different. I suddenly developed a very strong curiosity about things other than Arthur. Arthur had told his friends that he felt like he was raising a flower with his own hands. Watching her grow, bloom, stand tall and graceful, blooming wildly in the mountains, shining because of his sunlight, and becoming shy because of his rain—a flower that bloomed only for him. He was addicted to this feeling. He described it so well; I wanted to try it too. “I want to plant a tree,” I suddenly said, very seriously and slowly. “I want to experience giving him sunlight, dew, and watching him grow.” Julian froze. He didn’t understand what I meant and looked a bit bewildered. I let out a small yawn and switched to a more straightforward way of speaking: “I want to keep you.” He was basically at a dead end now. If only I helped him, then he could be considered a tree growing for me, right? Julian remained silent. Then, his ears turned red. He looked a little distressed, a little awkward, and a little speechless. I knew this sentence might sound a bit frivolous, but I didn’t care much. I figured he must feel humiliated. But for some reason, he looked at me, his features still gentle, showing a hint of helplessness, which diluted that distancing aloofness. He even crouched down, smoothed the blanket that had slipped on my knees, and brushed off the dust that had fallen on it. This reaction was completely different from the female leads in TV dramas who would argue righteously, “You’re insulting me.” “Miss Sterling…” he hesitated, asking uncertainly, “Will you tell your family about this?” (05) To be honest, it took me a long time to understand what he meant. Because I had poor absorption when I was young, I didn’t get enough nutrients and developed slower. Even with all the supplements later, I still looked younger than my peers. So he thought I was a minor and needed to inform my parents before making a decision. What made him think I was a minor? I felt stifled. He clearly should know my identity and the world of difference between him and me. Yet he wasn’t afraid of me, nor did he revere me. He even dared to question my decision, thinking I was playing house. When Chloe looked at Arthur, it was with respect and admiration. She looked at him as if looking at her god and faith. Arthur was very proud of this. But Julian looked at me like he was looking at a younger sister throwing a tantrum; he was underestimating me. I got angry, so I abruptly stuck out my leg and kicked him. Not hard, but my shoe flew off. In the past, when I liked to throw random tantrums, Arthur would usually turn and walk away, and everyone else was used to staying three feet away. But Julian didn’t hide. He didn’t even move, and a light gray shoe print instantly appeared on his pristine white shirt. I was stunned for a few seconds, a little unaccustomed to it. “I’m keeping you; no need to tell anyone else,” I slowly retracted my leg after a moment and said sluggishly. “So you have to listen to me and be on call.” He was silent for a few seconds. Unexpectedly, he didn’t raise any conditions but half-crouched down and gently put the shoe back on for me. “Okay,” Julian looked up at me. “I understand.” I felt like he sighed, but maybe he didn’t. After he left, I called Mr. Henderson. “I had a few outfits made at The Tailor’s,” I nonchalantly touched the blanket on my knees. “Send them over for me.” The Tailor’s was a bespoke tailoring shop that was a status symbol in New York. Ordinary families had to wait in line, but the Sterlings didn’t. Mr. Henderson instinctively asked, “Are they for Mr. Arthur…” What Mr. Arthur? I hadn’t snapped back to reality, my mind filled only with that glaring stain on Julian’s clothes. Didn’t he know how to dodge? A birch tree with a black smudge wouldn’t look good. Mr. Henderson knew me too well. He glanced at my expression and naturally changed the name: “Send them to Mr. Vance.” A college boy who just started school, being called ‘Mr.’ I frowned. “Don’t call him Mr. Vance, call him…” Mr. Henderson respectfully lowered his head, waiting for my final word. I was stuck for a long time: “Just call him… Little Tree!” (06) I gradually began to understand the joy Arthur spoke of. When Julian met me for the first time, although his clothes were washed clean, you could tell they were slightly old, and so were his shoes; he had probably worn them for years. I sent him new clothes, and he wore them. I disliked that he ate steamed buns and pickles every day, so I had someone deliver meals to him daily. As expected, I saw his complexion improve significantly, and he finally didn’t look so frail. I saw how exhausted he was taking care of his grandmother every day, so I simply moved her to a private room and hired a dedicated caregiver. Julian didn’t refuse, but he would seriously thank me every time. He remembered every expense clearly: “I will pay you back, Miss Sterling.” “I don’t want money.” My tone was casual. Remembering something, I became bossy, “Since I’m sponsoring you, I only sponsor the best. You must get first place in your department this semester.” It was a question, but it was also a command. Julian was slightly taken aback, then nodded. “Okay.” He then carefully chose his words and asked what I liked. Probably planning a return gift. I thought it was unnecessary. I originally wanted to ask him what he could afford to give, but seeing him standing clean and refreshing in the sunlight, I felt great. This was a handsome and elegant young man. Clothes make the man; now he was even more suave and charming, reminding people of a jade-like gentleman. Is this what planting a tree is like? No wonder Arthur liked it. It was truly delightful. “I like plants,” I rested my chin on my hand. “Not flowers, they’re too easy to kill.” Julian: “…” He agreed, and really gave me a pot of succulents he cultivated himself. This was completely different from Arthur. The gifts I gave Arthur disappeared without a trace after he received them. Arthur wouldn’t thank me either; his attitude was always that it was expected. Actually, I didn’t care before, but now I know that originally, getting a response was this kind of feeling. Like dropping a coin into the water and hearing the splash. It sounded quite nice. So the object of my gift-giving changed from Arthur to Julian. For this reason, I specially bought a small greenhouse and filled it with lush potted plants. They were all gifts from Julian, and it quickly turned into an ocean of green. (07) It wasn’t until Arthur came to see me that I remembered I hadn’t seen him in a long time. I also hadn’t sent him any messages to care about him in a long time. But I withheld the news that I was sponsoring Julian; after all, Arthur had also hidden the news of sponsoring Chloe. I thought this was very fair. The only difference was that he couldn’t hide it, but I could. Arthur only knew that an unknown person was protecting Julian. Not only could the people around him no longer touch Julian, but they also avoided him like the plague. He inquired anxiously about the news while carefully avoiding me, becoming so irritable that pimples even popped up on his forehead. I froze the first second I saw him. Then I gently looked away, thinking with a bit of disgust: How did he get so ugly? Not as good-looking as Little Tree. “Evelyn,” his tone was indifferent, “I’ve been busy socializing lately and haven’t had time to see you. Dinner tonight?” Little Tree said he would cook for me tonight. I didn’t want to eat with Arthur. Just as I was about to refuse, Arthur naturally changed the subject: “The Tailor’s didn’t contact me this month. I have an important gathering, and I don’t have the right clothes.” The Tailor’s used to custom-make three suits for Arthur every month, under my orders. But the clothes for this month had long been worn by Little Tree; there was none for him. Mr. Henderson, who personally delivered them for me, didn’t even bat an eyelid. I looked at him strangely. “Then you should go to The Tailor’s.” Why come to me? I wasn’t a tailor. But without me, The Tailor’s wouldn’t even pay attention to Arthur. He wasn’t qualified. Arthur was silent for a few seconds, a hint of impatience appearing between his brows: “Stop making a fuss.” I looked at him with interest. “The Tailor’s has been busy lately. You can go wait in line.” He finally seemed to realize that my reaction wasn’t quite right. Arthur looked at me, hesitated for a few seconds, and his voice softened a bit: “Evelyn, are you upset because I haven’t come to see you recently?” I scrutinized him, increasingly feeling that men who are getting older really need to pay attention to maintenance. Arthur’s phone vibrated. He was probably distracted, even forgetting to avoid me, and looked directly down at the message on his phone. It was probably a message from Chloe. I didn’t want to peek, but I accidentally caught a glimpse; it was a photo. — “My friend is shooting promotional photos for Columbia today, and I came to help carry water and stuff >w<" The boy in the photo looked very familiar; it was Julian. Julian had also told me about the promotional photos. Seeing him wearing the clothes I gave him made me feel even better. Arthur only took one look and didn't even notice the message Chloe sent before freezing in place. He zoomed in on the photo, the irritation in his eyes going completely blank. Then, his fingers trembled, his knuckles turning white as he stared dead at the pattern on Julian's cuff—it was the signature mark of The Tailor's. Having worn it for so many years, he couldn't possibly mistake it. (08) It felt like minutes had passed, or maybe just a few seconds. When I started getting impatient, Arthur finally turned to look at me. He wasn't completely stupid, after all. My recent coldness, the backer that suddenly appeared behind Julian, the tight-lipped attitude of everyone around him, and even those subtle, strange looks—Arthur hadn't failed to notice them. But when he actually saw something that belonged to him appear on Julian, the blood rushed to his head, and he almost lost his reason. "Evelyn Sterling." Arthur's eyes were bloodshot, and he practically gritted his teeth. "What is your relationship with him?" Mr. Henderson moved, and I knew what he was planning, so I stopped him: "Mr. Henderson, no need." Then I directly splashed the hot tea in my hand onto Arthur's face. He couldn't dodge in time and looked extremely disheveled. Mr. Henderson handed me a tissue. I wiped my hands, my tone curious: "Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?" Arthur clearly hadn't expected me to react this way and stood frozen in place. "Listen, Arthur." I toyed with a leaf of the small potted plant in my lap. "I haven't even settled the score with you regarding that girl; you have no right to question me." His lips trembled, as if waking up from his own world, the furious expression turning pale. "You know?" He seemed anxious to explain. "Evelyn, about me and Chloe... Chloe Davis, it's not what you think. I didn't tell you just because I was afraid you'd be upset." I said "Oh": "Are you done?" "Chloe is just a little girl. I hope you can be a little more understanding." He took a deep breath, as if calming down, his face dark, and the forced gentleness seemed a bit awkward. "You are my fiancée; you don't need to compare yourself with others." But I didn't speak immediately. Originally, my mood was good, and I might have even been able to peacefully say a few words to him. Thinking about it now, my good mood had nothing to do with him. He just came to ruin my mood. I asked impatiently, "Arthur, who do you think you are?" Arthur was stunned. He had never been humiliated by me like this, and he couldn't recover for a moment. I became even more curious. "Are you confused about your status? Asking me to be more understanding and to compare myself with others, your entire family doesn't deserve to say such things to me." So annoying. I was inherently someone with a bad temper, and such mean words came easily to me. It's just that I wouldn't say them to him before. It was as if I should cherish something that belonged to me. But now I kind of wanted to throw him away. "Let's go, Mr. Henderson." I stopped looking at Arthur. "To the greenhouse." Mr. Henderson pushed my wheelchair, ready to take me away. "I know, are you jealous? Are you deliberately taking revenge on me, which is why you went to that kid?" Arthur, covered in tea stains, chased after me. "Evelyn, let me tell you, he's up to no good. He's usually fake to Chloe, a country bumpkin from a poor village..." "Mr. Arthur," Mr. Henderson coldly interrupted him. "Watch your words. You have no right to comment on Miss Sterling's affairs." Arthur unconsciously stopped his steps. He was afraid of Mr. Henderson and didn't speak again, only staring at me intently, as if hoping I would call him back. Mr. Henderson had been with the Sterling family for too long; his status was different from an ordinary subordinate. The elders of the Arthur family would nod and bow when they saw Mr. Henderson, and Arthur was always very humble and polite to him. Even though Mr. Henderson was my butler, he dared to offend me but didn't dare to offend Mr. Henderson. After stepping out of the elevator, I said, "Teach the Arthur family a lesson." "Yes." The Arthur family wasn't stupid; they would definitely know it was Arthur who made a mistake. They would give me a satisfactory answer. This was better than letting Mr. Henderson just beat him up, lest he leave my gallery bruised and battered, leading others to think our Sterling family was unreasonable. Mr. Henderson looked at me with some relief. "Miss has grown up." Even my dad, who was far away abroad, called to praise me when he heard about it. "That kid dared to speak rudely to you; he deserves a lesson." He first scolded Arthur, then asked me, "But why are you suddenly willing to be so ruthless this time?" After all, having Mr. Henderson beat him up was a minor issue; it would pass once the injuries healed. But causing trouble for the Arthur family meant losing all face. I snorted lightly. "He called Little Tree a country bumpkin, even though I've raised him so well." My dad was totally confused. "What?" Mr. Henderson didn't report everything to him. Besides, sponsoring a poor student wasn't a big deal; he still didn't know what I had been doing lately. However, my dad and I often had heart-to-heart talks. "I'll tell you when you get back." I didn't explain much. "I just think he's blind." (09) I bought an apartment outside Julian's school. I recorded his fingerprint, but he usually only came when I called him. Occasionally, if there were no seats in the library and he needed a place to study, he would ask for my permission in advance. I found it strange: "Recording your fingerprint means you can come whenever you want. Why do you have to get my permission every time?" Julian said it was my house, and if I was in it, it would be very impolite of him to come over without saying a word. I didn't like people who lectured. But he was the Little Tree I kept; his voice was nice, and his tone was gentle. I just let him be. I regularly hired people to clean this apartment, and since no one stayed overnight, it was usually spotless. However, there were many traces of use in the kitchen. Because ever since the first time I said Julian's cooking was delicious, Julian often came to cook for me. The stove was ignited, and the sound of chopping vegetables could be heard. Before the meal, Julian handed me a fruit platter. The honeydew melon was freshly cut, exuding a sweet and fragrant scent; the grapes had been peeled by him, revealing the crystal-clear flesh, and even the white veins of the mandarin orange segments had been torn off cleanly. The good mood that had been disturbed by Arthur returned, and I forked a piece of melon: "Come here." "What's wrong?" He wiped the water drops off his hands. "Are you hungry? I'll try to be faster." I handed the honeydew melon to his mouth. Julian instinctively took a bite, then froze. A hint of a smile rippled outward from the depths of his eyes. He said, "Thank you, Miss." He didn't feel there was anything wrong with this. I certainly wouldn't think there was anything wrong. I accepted his thanks as a matter of course and forked a grape for him. When he went to the kitchen, I began to concentrate on enjoying my pre-dinner fruit. Sweet. Tonight's dinner was very sumptuous. Although it didn't use exceptionally expensive ingredients like the family chef did, I wasn't picky. "Miss, can you give me one of your bank accounts?" Julian suddenly asked at the dinner table. Before I could ask him why, he confessed on his own accord: "I got paid for shooting the promotional photos, and I want to transfer it to you." I looked at him. "Do you think I'm poorer than you?" "That's not what I mean." Julian served me chicken soup, carefully skimming the fat floating on the surface, his voice gentle. "I eat your food, live in your house, use your things now, and I have nowhere to spend money, so I should give all the money I earn to you, and you can help me spend it." He was very good with words. The irritability that had just surfaced in my heart was instantly smoothed over. I thought for a moment: "Then just leave it with me." I would find my dad's most trusted investment manager to help him manage this money and give it back to him when it multiplied several times. Julian smiled at me, like a clear breeze and bright moon: "Thank you, Miss." I didn't lack money and was always generous. Getting along with Julian always put me in a good mood. In the past, if Arthur put me in a good mood, I would unstintingly give him some resources he needed—all of which he subtly asked for. But Julian never asked me for anything; he only accepted what I gave him. I thought to myself, he doesn't even know how to proactively ask for money. I still have to help him figure out how he can be this poor. I said, "Will you have scholarship money this year?" "Yes," Julian said. "When it's credited, I'll put it all with you, Miss. Is that okay?" His dark eyes were as clean as a clear spring. I swallowed the beef in my mouth and said slowly, "Okay." Adding his scholarship money, I would add some more to make his principal a lucky number, and then hand it over to the financial manager. After dinner, I gave Julian a card. I had given him a debit card with $100,000 before, but he never used it, and he probably didn't know how much money was in it. This time I gave him a black card from the Sterling Group. "Many properties under my family's name can use this card. For example, the shopping center opposite your school, everything inside is free when you swipe this card," I said. "If there's anyone who doesn't recognize it, call me." He was stunned for a few seconds. "Miss." I don't know since when, he stopped calling me Miss Sterling and started calling me Miss. Julian sighed: "You treat me so well, it's easy to make people..." He seemed to be deliberating on what word to use. After a long time, he came up with "spoiled." I thought to myself, there are too many people around me who throw their weight around. How could a person with such a gentle personality as Julian become arrogant? He half-crouched down to help me put on the slippers I had kicked under the table: "I might even push my luck." I looked at him strangely. "You were supposed to be spoiled and push your luck." I wanted the little tree I planted to receive the brightest sunlight and the most nourishing rain in the world. — "Because you are my person." (10) When I received the apology call from the Arthur family, I was slowly walking around the Columbia campus. Although I couldn't stand for long periods, to prevent my leg muscles from atrophying, I would walk for a while every day. This time, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to stroll around Columbia. Julian finished his last exam today, and I planned to pick him up, though I hadn't told him yet. This was called creating a surprise. It's not that I hadn't done things on a whim before, but it always seemed like Arthur wasn't very surprised. Julian was different from Arthur. I couldn't help but guess what kind of expression he would show when he saw me. The more I thought about it, the more the corners of my mouth couldn't help but turn up. Columbia, as one of the top universities in New York and even the whole country, had an extremely beautiful campus with clean and spacious roads. The passing students were also very polite. Even if occasionally someone curiously looked at Mr. Henderson pushing the wheelchair and me standing next to it, they only glanced and quickly looked away. The head of the Arthur family was apologizing to me with trepidation. Speaking of Arthur, he scolded him thoroughly, saying the family had recently punished him, listing them one by one, and finally asked if I was satisfied with this handling. I didn't listen carefully because I was looking at the soil where Little Tree grew. Since he asked, I dropped a sentence, "Average," and hung up the phone. "Miss, do you want to sit and rest for a while?" Mr. Henderson asked. "It's fine here, Mr. Henderson." I shook my head. "Julian should study for a few more years, don't you think?" Mr. Henderson didn't call Julian Little Tree like I did. He called him Mr. Vance now, explaining that since Julian was my person, his status was now equivalent to half a young master of the Sterling family. "Mr. Vance is limited by his major, so further study is the best choice," Mr. Henderson said. "The path Miss chooses for him is naturally the best." "If he wants to start a business, the family seems to have people who can guide him. If he graduates, our overseas industries have expanded well..." I thought about it, always feeling that every option suited him very well. "I'll ask him when the time comes and let him choose himself." Mr. Henderson seemed a bit surprised, but this emotion was fleeting. "Let's go pick him up from his exam." I sat in the wheelchair. This was my first time picking someone up from an exam, and it was the top student in the department. A very novel feeling. Before arriving outside the exam room, I suddenly saw a familiar figure with a backpack walking out of the teaching building, looking in a hurry. "Miss, it's Mr. Vance," Mr. Henderson said. "Should I call out to him?" "He handed in his paper early." I thought about it, a bit of mischief arising. "No, let's follow him." I planned to get close and startle him later. Mr. Henderson didn't say a word and pushed me to follow. Julian's goal was very clear, but the place he was walking to made me increasingly confused. Mr. Henderson: "That's the experimental field of Columbia's College of Agriculture." Agriculture, this was completely unrelated to Julian's materials major. I was puzzled when I heard someone call his name. "Julian." A dusty guy emerged from the field. "You come here more often than I do. My advisor asked me a few days ago if you wanted to join his lab." His voice was loud, but I couldn't hear what Julian said. I only saw that boy laugh loudly: "If it weren't for your sweet talk, I wouldn't have bothered teaching you... Alright, the cherry tomatoes you planted have no problems. By the way, does your family run an agricultural supply store? You're always planting these random things." Julian seemed to think of something and revealed a faint smile. The sunlight was warm, gently enveloping his handsome profile. I stood frozen in place. Actually, I knew Julian was very busy. I said I wanted him to give me plants just casually. Maybe the first pot of succulents was cultivated by him, but the second pot, the third pot... I would never investigate where he brought them from, or whether he bought them. But I didn't care. I treated people well just based on my mood because what I gave was something not worth mentioning to me, so whether I got a return or not didn't matter. Then, seeking advice from the College of Agriculture, going down to the muddy ground every day to watch the seeds sprout with his own eyes, and sending me a whole ocean of green, downplaying it from beginning to end without saying a word. To Julian, was this giving also something not worth mentioning? My heart felt like it was suddenly pricked. It didn't hurt; it was just a sore and itchy feeling, oozing out wet emotions bit by bit. I lowered my eyes: "Let's go, Mr. Henderson, don't let him see us."

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My online boyfriend and I agreed to swap photos today. I thought he was catfishing when he sent a professional, high-fashion shot of the city’s most famous, untouchable billionaire heir taken during a press conference. I laughed, annoyed. I shot back a photo of a famous A-list actress in a high-fashion editorial. [Dumbass. If you’re going to use a fake photo, at least pick a niche one, okay?] Then I immediately blocked and deleted him. That night, the real billionaire heir personally made a high-profile post on social media looking for someone. [My girlfriend blocked me. Can anyone help me explain to her?] Attached to his post was a screenshot of my text message, complete with the dreaded red exclamation mark indicating it was undelivered. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. 01 After breakfast, I spent an hour putting on a full face of makeup. I sat by the window, waiting for the exact moment the lighting was perfect. Because today was the day my online boyfriend and I agreed to swap photos. [Ready, baby?] His message popped up. I quickly replied: [I’m a little nervous, baby.] Even though our values aligned perfectly and we talked about everything, I had never told him that I was actually a somewhat famous actress. I was more of a “love-to-hate” celebrity, but I had my fair share of fame. Worried he wouldn’t believe a photo, I planned to video call him right after. I wondered how he would react. He replied quickly. [I’m nervous too. I’m scared you’ll think I’m ugly.] [Baby, I really tried to pick the best picture of myself I could find.] [Are you going to be disappointed in me, baby?] More than once, he had expressed insecurity about his looks. But having seen too many fake, perfect faces in Hollywood, I honestly didn’t care about his outward appearance. [Of course not. As long as you aren’t using a fake photo to trick me, I’ll love you no matter what you look like.] [That’s good. Kisses, QAQ.] [Kisses.] He was very clingy, and I didn’t mind pampering him. He went quiet for a few minutes, seemingly building up the courage. Then, he sent an image. It was a man in a impeccably tailored suit, surrounded by a swarm of microphones, his eyes sharp, radiating an intense, powerful aura. I recognized him instantly. He was Ethan Thorne, the notorious, multi-billionaire heir to a massive New York real estate empire. Because of his insane good looks, every interview shot of him became a viral sensation. This was actually his most famous “it” photo. My online boyfriend texted: [Baby, this is me. What do you think?] [Nervously twiddling fingers.jpg] I froze. I had always thought my online boyfriend was intelligent, sophisticated, and perfect for me. We clicked on everything. But what was this? Sending an interview photo of another man? A hundred-billionaire heir playing around with online dating? Was I not awake, or was he dreaming? And I specifically told him not to use a fake photo! Did I look that gullible? I hate deception more than anything. Fury instantly erupted within me. I immediately found an obscure editorial shot of myself—one not widely circulated—and sent it to him. [Dumbass. If you’re going to use a fake photo, at least pick a niche one, okay?] Without waiting for a reply, I blocked his number at lightning speed. 02 I met my online boyfriend while playing video games. I went into the game and deleted him from my friends list, wiping out our “High Affinity” status of over ten thousand points, ensuring he had no way to contact me ever again. Then I threw my phone onto the sofa, spent an hour washing off my makeup, and curled up alone, fuming. All those photos of abs and obliques he used to send me… they must have been pulled from some random fitness Instagram. And to think I actually admired and complimented his physique! That dead liar! I was so angry I couldn’t function, so I just buried my head in the pillows and went to sleep. That evening, I was woken by a call from my manager, Sarah. Her voice sounded strange. “Chloe, have you seen the trending topics today?” “What happened?” I mumbled, forcing my eyes open and opening the X app (formerly Twitter). I realized a topic had exploded just minutes ago. #Even Billionaire Heirs Do Online Dating# My heart did a somersault. I was instantly wide awake. This topic… it couldn’t be what I thought it was, right? Cautiously, I clicked in. Ethan Thorne, who rarely ever posted on social media, had posted a few minutes ago. [My girlfriend blocked me. Can anyone help me explain to her?] The attached photo looked increasingly familiar. Wasn’t this the final chat log between me and my online boyfriend? The only difference was that on his end, there were several more messages that failed to send, marked with red exclamation points. [Huh?] [It’s not a fake photo, baby. It’s really me.] [Baby?] [Why did you delete me? Can you at least listen to my explanation?] [Baby… #crying#] The internet was in absolute shock. [What? Ethan Thorne does online dating?] [I’m dying to know who the girlfriend is. Did she save the universe in a past life to be dating Ethan Thorne online?] [But she thought he was a catfish. LMAO.] [Honestly, if it were me, I’d think it was a fake photo too. Hahaha.] [But it looks like he’s publicly searching for her, right? Does anyone know this girl?] [If anyone knows her, please tell her to answer him! Mr. Thorne is so anxious he’s actually posting on social media!] I scrolled through the comments, my eyes nearly popping out of my head. So, my online boyfriend actually didn’t use a fake photo? He really was Ethan Thorne! While I was still reeling from the shock, a new trending topic suddenly appeared. #Celebrity and Billionaire’s Online Romance: I’m Obsessed# I gasped. No way the internet detectives were this fast, right? Had I been exposed already? Nervously, I clicked. It was a new post from the currently hot, “it girl” actress, Brooke Sterling. [No need for anyone to help explain. I know it was just a misunderstanding~] Her post was so heavily pointed it was just short of quoting Ethan’s original post. Netizens went wild. [The internet is amazing! Found her in minutes!] [So the online girlfriend is Brooke! OMG! A movie star and a billionaire heir? What an insane online romance!] [Brooke is too cute. She’s a celebrity herself doing online dating, yet she didn’t believe a billionaire was doing the same. Hahaha.] [Help, they are so perfect together. Brooke is about to become a billionaire’s wife!] 03 Sarah’s voice came through the phone again. “Do you see it now? We originally planned to have you on that food and lifestyle reality show to gain some popular favor, but now that Brooke and Ethan Thorne’s online romance has exploded, all the buzz for the show tomorrow will be about her. You’re going to be totally eclipsed!” I was stunned. Because I was a decent cook, we had specifically chosen a slow-paced lifestyle show called “The Great American Farmhouse” to try and fix my shaky reputation with the public. And the show was broadcasting live starting tomorrow. With all the buzz going to Brooke, I would be nothing more than a background extra again. I gritted my teeth. “What if… the person actually dating Ethan Thorne is me?” When I was dating Ethan online, I used a private account, completely separate from my professional, public-facing celebrity account. As a result, not even Sarah knew that the girl in question was me. I explained the whole story to Sarah, leaving her completely stunned. “Brooke Sterling actually dared to clout-chase this? Is she insane?” It was common knowledge that Ethan Thorne was not only vindictive but also ruthless. No one dared mess with him, and even fewer dared to lie to him. Even knowing I was his actual online girlfriend, I didn’t dare step forward and admit it. Because I hadn’t just blocked him; I had called him a dumbass. Sarah and I stayed up all night talking, but we couldn’t come up with a foolproof plan. With only a rough layer of makeup and very little sleep, I was thrown into the reality show production. When I arrived, several other guests were already gathered around Brooke Sterling, chatting excitedly. “Brooke! What’s it like dating a billionaire heir online?” “You are way too good at online dating!” “What is Ethan like in private?” “Now that you’ve cleared up the misunderstanding, have you unblocked him and added him back?” A barrage of questions left Brooke looking shy. She covered her mouth, giggling. “He hasn’t actually reached out to me personally yet. As for the block list… I’m not planning on taking him off just yet.” This was a response nobody expected. “What? You haven’t unblocked him yet!” “Someone who dares to treat Ethan Thorne like that—I guess there’s only one Brooke Sterling in the world, huh?” “I can’t imagine how much you must be pampered in real life!” Brooke gave another shy smile. “Oh, stop it. You guys shouldn’t talk like that.” Everyone was filled with envy. Only I slowly frowned. She didn’t unblock Ethan Thorne… wasn’t that because he was on my block list? However, my subtle expression was quickly caught by the live-stream audience. [What is Chloe doing? What’s with that face?] [I heard she’s insanely jealous that Brooke is dating a billionaire heir. She can’t even hide it on her face!] [LMAO, who told her not to have Brooke’s luck?] [Why did the production team invite her? To watch her pout?] Brooke noticed me too. She walked over with a bright smile. “Chloe, you’re finally here! The host said they’re going to announce a huge surprise once everyone is here. We were just waiting for you.” I silently glanced at the time. Recording was supposed to start at 8:30 AM; it was barely past 8:00 AM now. Because of the Ethan Thorne situation, I hadn’t gone to sleep until 5:00 AM, so I certainly hadn’t arrived early. But I wasn’t late either! But netizens had already quickly grasped Brooke’s implication. [So Chloe still hasn’t fixed her diva habit of being late?] [A whole room is waiting for just her. The nerve!] [Only our Brooke is kind enough to give her a smile after waiting white-knuckled for so long!] [I’m so sick of Chloe. Showing up so late. Can we just have her kicked off this show?] 04 I really wanted to roll my eyes at her. But I held back. I looked at the host. “What huge surprise?” The host gave a mysterious smile. The large screen behind him suddenly lit up. It was a screenshot of a recent social media post. Ethan Thorne had posted four words just three minutes ago: [Going where you are.] Attached was the logo for our reality show, “The Great American Farmhouse.” The host introduced: “Ta-da! Our show is honored to welcome—the CEO of the Thorne Group himself, Mr. Ethan Thorne, as a guest!” Netizens immediately went wild for the “couple.” [‘Going where you are’? Isn’t this literally chasing his wife to the production set?] [Does everyone remember what Brooke just said? Ethan hadn’t contacted her yet, so she wouldn’t unblock him. And then Ethan actually came to the show for Brooke. This is too much pampering!] [He’s a man who has a fixed schedule for interviews, and he just shows up on a viral reality show? If this isn’t true love, I don’t know what is!] [I can’t even imagine how sweet it will be when the billionaire heir actually arrives on set!] [Can I please have Brooke’s life script in my next life?] Brooke’s expression was also wonderful. First, her eyes slowly widened, then she covered her mouth in disbelief. Finally, she lowered her head bashfully. Someone immediately teased, “Brooke, the billionaire heir chased you all the way to the show. You should probably unblock him now, right?” She covered her face self-consciously. “Oh, stop it… I’ll see how he behaves when he gets here~” This caused another round of excitement from the crowd. I was extremely confused. Did Ethan Thorne really just believe that Brooke Sterling was his online girlfriend? He was even coming onto a reality show for this? I couldn’t help but remember when I was dating Ethan online. Whenever he made me angry, he would send me money transfers. If I ignored him, he would send me photos of his abs. If I kept ignoring him, he would pull his waistband lower and lower. He certainly knew how to coax a girl. But I was the one he was coaxing. How had he become this person in Brooke’s mouth, someone who could be effortlessly manipulated by her time and time again? I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I looked up at Brooke. “If Ethan Thorne ‘behaves well,’ are you sure you can unblock him?” Brooke was stunned for a moment. But she quickly nodded. “Of course.” Another guest was confused and asked me, “Chloe, why would you ask that?” I didn’t answer immediately. If I said right now that I was Ethan Thorne’s actual online girlfriend, wouldn’t I get absolutely shredded by the public? The netizens were already roasting me. [Is this Chloe crazy? Why did she randomly pipe up with that?] [Her jealousy is practically oozing through the screen. Seeing how much Mr. Thorne pampers Brooke, she’s probably never experienced that in her life, right?] [Seriously, what is there to question? Ethan Thorne came onto the show for Brooke!] [She is so rude. But everyone shouldn’t be angry. When Mr. Thorne gets here, he will definitely handle her for Brooke! Kick her out!] Brooke, catching my hesitant expression, straightened her back. She frowned and looked at me. “Yeah, what’s the meaning of that question? If I can’t, can you?” Her tone was filled with interrogation. There was even a hint of provocation in her eyes. “Chloe, are you just…” Before she finished, the sarcasm was loud and clear. Am I envious? Am I jealous? Am I intentionally trying to pick a fight? Everyone around was staring at me. I was getting heated from the scrutiny. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I opened my mouth. “Yeah, I can. “He’s on my block list right now. Do you want to see?” 05 For a moment, everyone on set was stunned. Nobody expected me to say that. The scene fell into a dead silence. Everyone looked at each other, speechless. A guest closest to me was the first to react, looking at me in shock. “Chloe, what are you saying? Who is on your block list? Ethan Thorne?” I realized only then that I had been too impulsive and had actually spoken the truth. But what was done was done. I just nodded silently. The guest was a bit confused. “So you’re saying… you also blocked Ethan Thorne?” I replied casually, “Yeah.” Netizens: [This girl wants to clout-chase everything, doesn’t she? Brooke blocks the billionaire heir, so she has to say she blocked him too, even though he doesn’t even know who she is…] [And who cares if you blocked him? Is blocking someone a flex? What is with her attitude? Maybe she tried incredibly hard to add Mr. Thorne on a messenger app, he ignored her, she had a meltdown, and blocked him herself to feel some kind of moral victory?] [Exactly. Is Brooke the same as her? Brooke and Ethan are a couple having a playful lover’s tiff, and she has to butt in. What a dumbass.] While this was happening, Brooke had already run over to stand in front of me, looking very surprised. “How could you have Mr. Thorne’s contact information?” I was utterly sick of this woman now. I decided not to hide it anymore. “Why wouldn’t I? Is there no possibility that the person dating him online was actually me?” I stared at Brooke and spoke with complete confidence. Netizens burst out laughing. [Are my ears broken? What did Chloe say? She said she’s the one who was online dating Ethan Thorne?] [She’s insane… she dares to fake something like this? Brooke and the billionaire heir have already publicly acknowledged each other online. Isn’t she afraid Mr. Thorne will have her blacklisted from the industry immediately?] [Ugh, I can’t take this crazy woman anymore! One minute questioning others, the next minute having a manic episode herself. When is Ethan Thorne getting here to put her in her place?] [But… she looks serious. Not like she’s faking. And do you guys remember? The final photo the online girlfriend sent him was actually a shot from Chloe’s editorial.] [Do you have any critical thinking skills? They already suspected the other person was using a fake photo. How could they send their actual picture? Whoever that person is, it’s definitely not Chloe!] [Yeah, I don’t get why you guys are even doubting this. Ethan Thorne posted on social media to chase his ‘wife.’ It was obviously a response to Brooke. Chloe, the clout-chaser, needs to get lost!] Brooke was furious. “What do you mean? Are you trying to say you’re the one dating Mr. Thorne and not me? That I’m an imposter?” Even though she was angry, there wasn’t a trace of guilt or nervousness on her face. I found it strange. Why wasn’t she afraid of being exposed right here? Seeing her eagerness to refute me, I interrupted her directly. “Then why was your first reaction that I was an imposter? What if we were both dating him at the same time?” 06 Brooke hadn’t expected me to say that. She was speechless for a few seconds, her face flushing as she retorted loudly, “Mr. Thorne would never do such a thing!” Her reaction was already a bit extreme. I just gave a shallow “Oh.” I was silently debating whether to expose Brooke right now. After all, a live broadcast would be hard to manage. But before I could decide, Brooke actually made the first move. “Chloe, I’ve always considered you a good friend, but you questioned me first, slandered Mr. Thorne second, and now you actually dare to claim you’re his girlfriend. Have you forgotten? This is a live broadcast! Even if I don’t mind, I have to defend Mr. Thorne’s reputation! If you can’t produce evidence right now, then please apologize to Mr. Thorne and me immediately!” She spoke with sincere emotion, tears streaming down her face. She stood there, biting her lip stubbornly, like a pure little flower that had been wronged but refused to break. The guests who had remained silent earlier now looked at me accusingly. “Seriously, that’s not right, Chloe.” The netizens were enraged. [Seriously, is this Chloe a psycho? How could she say something like ‘Thorne was dating two women at once’?] [I’ve had enough! I feel so bad for Brooke. Not only does she have to face this crazy woman’s questioning, but now her man is being slandered too!] [Brooke looks like she’s about to cry in the next second! Someone please go hug her! And someone punch Chloe, that dumbass!] [Heh, she better be able to produce some decent evidence. If she can’t, she can wait to get kicked out of the industry! Ethan Thorne will destroy her when he gets here!] I remained silent for a moment. To prevent any accidents like accidentally switching accounts while posting, I always used a completely separate, private phone for my private entertainment. I really hadn’t brought that phone with me to record this variety show. When I stated this difficulty, Brooke’s triumph became visibly apparent. She appeared to be distressed for me, but was increasingly certain I was just slandering her. “Didn’t bring your phone? The internet is so advanced now. Can’t you just log in to your account on another phone? Or… do you not have an account at all?” I was completely fed up. She was begging me to expose her. “Fine. I’ll log in,” I interrupted her. I was done wasting words. I directly grabbed a production staff member’s work phone and logged in to my secondary messenger account right then and there. Someone whispered, “The profile picture seems to be the same one as Ethan Thorne’s online girlfriend…” Brooke’s expression changed. She clenched her fists and leaned in to look. I shoved the block list directly in her face. “See?” There was only one person on the block list. The account name was simply “E.” The profile picture was the identical one Ethan Thorne had previously shared on social media. Brooke obviously hadn’t expected me to actually produce evidence. She froze on the spot for a moment, unable to move. 07 The netizens were stunned. [What’s going on? Chloe actually seems to have a real case here…] [OMG! Both profile pictures match. And since she was asked on the spot, it’s unlikely to be fake, right?] [I feel like it might be real. Because that editorial photo really was Chloe’s, and it really was obscure. Why would anyone else save that unless it was her?] [Does that mean Brooke is the liar? But in that situation, how could someone send their actual picture? I don’t believe it.] [It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. The evidence has been produced. Is Brooke Sterling about to have her entire career collapse…] Brooke struggled for a long time but couldn’t squeeze out a single word. “This? This…” Everyone was gathered around looking. In amidst the shocked stares, a guest suddenly said, “But, you don’t have any chat history to prove you were in a relationship…” I froze. Because I was logged in on a new phone, the chat history was indeed blank. Brooke seemed to be instantly revived. She snaps her head up. “Exactly! And how can you prove this person is Mr. Thorne? Anyone can use the exact same profile picture!” Having said that, she suddenly looked wronged again. “But for you to be able to produce this so quickly… could it be… could it be…” Before she finished her sentence, her big, watery eyes, full of unspeakable emotion, darted a few times towards the nearby directing team. Her eyes were filled with the hurt of betrayal. The implication was practically screaming. The netizens seemed to have a lightbulb moment. [Holy sht! Yeah, why didn’t I think of that? Chloe’s whole reveal looked so smooth and scripted. Could this be a storyline she worked out with the directing team?]* [Yeah. She unusually questioned Brooke over and over, Brooke was bound to get angry and ask for evidence, and then the production team just ‘happened’ to have a spare work phone, and she logged in so smoothly, and there was a ‘perfect’ account ready… it looks more like something prepared in advance.] [Fcking hell, I’m convinced! If Brooke wasn’t smart, she almost got played!]* [And Chloe just said something about ‘dating the same person at the same time’… I bet the next step was to act out a tragic script where she was cheated on to get sympathy, right?] [So this directing team is trying to pull this stunt to stir up buzz for Chloe? How low can you get?] The other guests immediately looked at me with strange, wary eyes. I even heard them whispering. “It couldn’t be like that, right? I thought this was a completely unscripted live broadcast…” “Who knows what kind of ‘benefits’ she gave them…” At that moment, I was turned to stone. I knew Brooke Sterling was bold enough to lie, but I didn’t expect her to be this good at counter-attacking! I don’t have evidence: I’m lying. I have evidence: It’s a script. Where is the justice! Seeing that the finger was being pointed at the production team, the host quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. “Everything that happens in our show is real! As for matters regarding Mr. Thorne… he himself will be arriving at the production set very soon!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410910”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the fifth year of my marriage to Liam Sterling, the girl he had been keeping in a luxury penthouse was exposed. The scandal was everywhere—TMZ, Page Six, every social media feed. To protect her from being labeled a “homewrecker,” Liam came to me with divorce papers. He said, “Mr. Miller saved my career years ago. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after Clara. Now that this scandal is out, I can’t just leave her to drown.” For years, Clara had always been Liam’s first choice. In my past life, I collapsed when I heard those words. I screamed, I fought, and I refused to let go. I spiraled into a deep clinical depression. Liam, influenced by Clara’s whispered comment that “Elena doesn’t look like she’s actually sick,” decided I was faking it to trap him. He framed me for an affair and sued for divorce. Back then, I finally realized I could never compete with a “debt of gratitude.” I ended my life in despair. But now, I’ve opened my eyes again. This time, I signed the papers without a second thought. 01 “Elena, once this storm blows over, we’ll get married again, okay?” I was sitting on a stone bench in our Hamptons estate, staring into space, when Liam appeared with Clara. Just three hours ago, the paparazzi had leaked photos of Clara leaving Liam’s hotel suite. The internet was digging into her past, calling her a mistress and the reason for the downfall of the “perfect Sterling marriage.” Liam’s “devoted husband” image was shattered, and Sterling Group’s stock was plummeting. In my previous life, when Liam brought these papers, I was so filled with rage that I tore up every rose he had planted for me in this garden. I demanded to know what Clara really meant to him. She was just his mentor’s daughter. There were a thousand ways to solve the PR crisis. But he chose to sacrifice me. He did it simply because he didn’t want Clara’s depression to worsen. He didn’t know that while the scandal was fermenting, I had already been diagnosed with severe clinical depression myself. “Elena.” Liam called my name again, pulling me back from my thoughts. I looked down at the divorce settlement on the stone table. He knelt at my feet, his dark, deep eyes looking up at me, his warm palms covering my cold hands. His voice was coaxing. “Elena, just do this for me, please? We’ll tell the public our marriage has been over for a year. We’ll say we were just waiting for the right time to announce the divorce.” I remained silent. Behind him, Clara stood in a white silk dress, Liam’s coat draped over her shoulders. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. “Elena, please help me,” Clara whispered. “My mother took her own life because of cyberbullying and depression. I don’t want to end up like her. Elena… I’ll get on my knees if I have to. Just please…” As she started to bend her knees, Liam stood up instantly, catching her and pulling her protectively into his arms. His face darkened as he snapped, “What are you doing?” Clara choked back a sob, looking fragile. “I… I just wanted Elena to feel better.” Liam’s expression shifted to impatience as he looked back at me. The tenderness was gone. “Elena, I’m not here to negotiate. I’ve already made my decision. If you won’t sign, don’t blame me for—” I looked him in the eye, and he stopped mid-sentence. But I knew what he was going to say. He was going to say: “Elena, you know what I’m capable of. I have a thousand ways to make you sign. If we go to court, you’ll never beat the Sterling Group’s lawyers.” That’s what he said in the last life. Later, he staged a scene where I woke up in a hotel with male models, making the “affair” undeniable. Overnight, I became the “unfaithful wife,” while he and Clara became the innocent victims. “I’ll sign,” I said after a long silence. “But you have to promise me one thing.” 02 Liam nodded immediately. He handed me a pen. I took it and signed my name on the lines without a single tremor in my hand. “Don’t you want to read the terms?” Liam frowned. I let out a soft, hollow laugh. “No need.” He was basically leaving with nothing, giving me almost all the marital assets. He was willing to lose everything just for Clara, just for that “debt of gratitude.” “Set a time with the lawyers tomorrow to finalize the filing,” I said. “Okay,” Liam replied. His hand hesitated as he took the papers back. He looked at me with a hint of confusion, but in the end, he said nothing. As they turned to leave, Clara looked back over her shoulder. Her lips curved into a silent, mocking smirk: You lost. I had lost. I lost an entire lifetime. That’s why I didn’t care about winning this time. A few minutes later, my phone lit up. It was a text from Liam. [I know this is hard for you, Elena. I’m sorry.] [Once this is over, I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams. We’ll start over.] [I couldn’t just watch Clara spiral. You’re strong, you can understand me, right?] I looked at the screen and laughed until tears pricked my eyes. It was the same in the last life. To force the divorce, Liam had consulted his friends and gotten drunk. But he forgot that his friends were my friends too. Marcus had spent half his time telling Liam not to throw away his marriage for Clara, and the other half trying to convince me to “understand” Liam because he was a man of “honor and loyalty.” If Clara’s father hadn’t invested in Liam’s startup years ago, Liam wouldn’t be the man he is today. Back then, I had cried and screamed, “Liam could have cleared her name a thousand ways! Why does it have to be a divorce?” Marcus had gone quiet. He eventually told me what Liam had said: “I have to let someone down. It has to be Elena. She loves me; she’s the only one who will understand.” Because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed. What kind of twisted logic was that? Fortunately, I had a second chance. 03 Liam always moved fast when it came to Clara. The papers were signed in the morning, and by evening, he had organized a press conference. He sent his assistant to “invite” me to attend. I hadn’t even opened my mouth before the assistant, assuming I would refuse, relayed Liam’s message. “Ms. Miller, you should be there. If not for Mr. Sterling’s sake, then for your own reputation.” I stared at him for a second and then scoffed. Liam was threatening me. He was trying to use the same tactics from the last life—throwing dirt on me and letting me drown in public scrutiny until I had no choice but to bow my head. I never understood if Liam saw me as a wife or an enemy. But if he wanted to clarify our relationship, I was more than happy to oblige. The press conference was held in the ballroom of Manhattan’s most luxurious hotel. The room was packed with high-profile journalists. When Clara appeared, dressed in an elegant silk gown and leaning on Liam’s arm, the reporters swarmed them. Liam instinctively shielded Clara, waving off the microphones with a practiced smile. “I will answer every question in due time. For now, please, give us some space.” His voice was steady. When he looked up, his eyes met mine. I was surrounded by reporters in the middle of the room. For a split second, a ghost of an old hope flickered in me—the hope that he might step forward to help me. But in the next second— He shifted his gaze away. With a smile, he led Clara onto the stage as if he hadn’t seen me at all. I curled my lip in a silent sneer. A young intern reporter near me timidly held out a mic. “Ms. Miller, is it true? Are you and Mr. Sterling really getting a divorce?” “Yes,” I replied, a bright smile on my face. The intern pushed up her glasses. “But you and Mr. Sterling met in college. Seven years of dating, five years of marriage… and just last month, he bought an island in your name.” I kept smiling, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “That was a debt he owed me.” Liam had missed my birthday to take care of a “sick” Clara. The island was his way of making up for it. In my last life, I had been so proud of that island. I only found out later that the idea came from Marcus, the island was picked by Liam’s assistant, and Liam didn’t even know where it was on a map. “Do you… still love him?” the reporter asked. The room went quiet. Even Liam, on the stage, turned to look at me. His brow furrowed slightly. I looked at him calmly and spoke clearly into the microphone. “Not anymore.” 04 I didn’t stay for the end. Once Liam announced that our marriage had “ended in spirit” a year ago, I walked out. Overnight, I became the “discarded wife,” while Clara became the only innocent victim in this drama. The interview was pinned at the top of every social media platform for days. Liam’s statement was played on loop: “Elena and I decided to split a year ago. We wanted to keep it private, but now that an innocent person is being dragged into this, we had to speak up. Clara is not a ‘mistress.’ She is my mentor’s daughter, his only legacy. Looking after her is my duty. I hope everyone can be rational about this.” Fans were led to believe that I was the problem—that I was too “narrow-minded” to accept their “pure, sibling-like” bond. They called me petty. They said I didn’t deserve Liam’s “loyalty and honor” after five years of marriage. The topic trended for a week. I was the villain. When we walked out of the lawyer’s office after the final filing, Liam stopped me. “Don’t take what they say online to heart, Elena. People have short memories. They’ll forget soon.” I stopped and let out a short, sharp laugh. We were both being dragged on social media, yet the way he handled it for Clara versus me was night and day. “Elena, it’s almost Christmas,” Liam said. “Early next year, let’s go get our licenses again. We’ll remarry.” He moved toward me, but I stepped back. I looked past him toward the paparazzi being held back by security. Liam realized he was being too public and stopped. “Liam, I’m moving to Boston.” “You haven’t been back there in a long time. It’ll be good for you. After New Year’s, I’ll fly up and bring you—” “I’m not coming back,” I interrupted calmly. The faint smile on his face froze. Confusion clouded his eyes. I continued, “When I agreed to sign the papers, you promised me one thing. It’s time to keep it.” Liam stared at me, waiting. In the few seconds after my rebirth, I had processed all my love and hate for this man. When I first saw the divorce papers, part of me wanted to go insane, to rip them up and scream. But logic won. I smiled at him one last time. “Liam, I want you to stay out of my life. Forever.” 05 As I walked away into the crowd, Liam stood frozen. For a moment, he felt a strange, cold panic, as if he were losing the most valuable thing he owned. It reminded him of how I had signed the papers—quietly, without a fight. It was as if I had already foreseen the end. Just a few weeks ago, I had thrown a fit because he forgot my birthday. I had even slapped him. He had expected me to go nuclear when he suggested a “fake” divorce. He was ready for the screaming. But I hadn’t screamed. I had just picked up the pen, my expression as still as a dead lake. He had wanted to stop me for a split second, but he didn’t. He told himself it was fine. Elena loved him. It was just a temporary divorce. He would make it up to her. But Clara was different. He couldn’t let her get hurt because of him. If her father hadn’t seen Liam’s potential and risked his own board seat to invest in Liam’s first project, Liam wouldn’t be a New York titan today. He wouldn’t have been “good enough” for someone like Clara. Mr. Miller’s dying wish was for Liam to protect her. He didn’t want to be a man without honor. Marcus had once asked him, “If Elena and Clara both fell off a cliff, who would you save?” Liam had laughed then. He thought the question was beneath him. He said he’d save Clara, but he’d jump off the cliff to die with Elena. Marcus had laughed with him, but then asked, “What if Elena doesn’t want to die?” “Liam, don’t take Elena’s love for granted. If she can’t feel your love, she’ll give up.” Liam hadn’t taken the warning seriously then. He didn’t realize it was a prophecy. 06 That night, Liam went back to the villa. Since our wedding, I had lived in this house tucked away in the hills. I was a successful artist. At eighteen, I had been hailed as a prodigy for my ethereal landscapes. Everyone thought I would be the next big thing in the art world, and for a while, I was. But after marriage, my style changed. It lost its soul. My mentors tried to help me, but the effect was minimal. Eventually, I stopped painting altogether. I grew to hate the brush. Liam walked into my studio. He froze when he saw the canvas on the easel. It was a landscape. A few strokes, but it was breathtakingly alive. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, saw the light and walked in. “Mr. Sterling?” Liam turned. “When did she paint this?” “The day you brought Ms. Vance home,” she replied. Liam nodded. He tried to smile, but his face felt stiff. He went to my bedroom. He kept telling himself this was just a “fake” divorce. As soon as the PR fire was out, he would propose again. He’d give me a wedding that would be the talk of the century. But his chest felt hollow. He dismissed my final words as just “anger.” This was our home. Why wouldn’t I come back? A knock at the door broke his thoughts. It was Clara. She was wearing a thin silk robe, her cheeks flushed. She stood in the doorway, watching him. “What are you doing here?” Liam asked. Clara bit her lip. “I was scared staying at the hotel alone. So I came here.” She lowered her eyes. “Am I… disturbing you?” Liam’s brow furrowed, but he sighed. “It’s fine. It’s late.” “I’ll have Mrs. Gable get a guest room ready.” As he turned to call the housekeeper, Clara stepped into the room. She looked at Liam with eyes full of longing. “Liam… I don’t want the guest room.” “Can I…?” she whispered. Liam’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth to say no, but seeing her red-rimmed eyes, his heart softened again. 07 When my plane landed in Boston, Silas was there to pick me up. Ten years ago, when he was eighteen, Silas had saved a girl from an assault, only to be falsely accused of the crime himself. He served three years in prison. With a criminal record, no company would hire him. I met him at an art gallery. He never spoke to anyone; he always kept his head down. One night, on my way home, I was cornered by some thugs. Silas happened to be passing by. I thought he would just keep walking. But he didn’t. He didn’t hesitate for a second. Afterward, I asked him, “What if I accused you too?” He gave a bitter smile. “Then I’d just accept it.” I used my family’s influence to clear his name. On the day the truth came out, he stood in the distance, watching me through the crowd with red eyes. He bowed deeply in thanks. Prison hadn’t broken his kindness. My father, grateful for Silas saving me, offered him a job. He started at the bottom, and now, he was my father’s most trusted right hand. “Miss Vance, long time no see.” Silas, dressed in a sharp overcoat, took my suitcase. I nodded, feeling a sudden lump in my throat. Five years ago, when I married Liam and moved to New York, Silas had been sent to London for corporate training. I hadn’t seen him since before I “died” in my last life. “Are you staying this time?” he asked. “I’m staying,” I said. Silas smiled. “Mr. Vance is very happy you’re home.” I felt a pang of guilt. My hands tightened in my pockets. In the last life, when the divorce scandal broke, my father had flown to New York immediately. He had begged me: “Liam Sterling doesn’t know your worth.” “He’d rather work with that old man Miller than accept your help. He says he doesn’t want to ‘rely’ on you, but isn’t relying on the Millers the same thing?” “Elena, just leave him. He isn’t the one.” He wanted to bring me home to Boston. But I refused. I cried and screamed that I loved Liam and wouldn’t leave. “Why should I be sacrificed for his ‘debt’? Even if he kills me, I’m not leaving.” My father was so angry and heartbroken that he had a massive heart attack. He was in the ICU for weeks. My mother’s hair turned white overnight. When my father finally woke up, he didn’t say a word to me. I knew I had failed him. My mother had warned me before she left: “Your father never interfered with your choices, Elena. But Liam Sterling is not a good man.” I hadn’t listened. I had hit the “dead end” at full speed. It took losing my life to finally understand. “Are they okay?” I asked Silas. He nodded. “The company is thriving. Your parents are healthy.” I smiled, looking at his calm eyes. “Thank you, Silas.” Thank you for looking after them when I was gone. Silas shook his head. He said it was his duty. If my father and I hadn’t pulled him out of the gutter, he would have been dead years ago.

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I was the official “mascot” of our company. My boss went out of his way to keep me around, even creating a cushy, specialized position just for me. Then, a new Sales Director swooped in. A staunch pragmatist and skeptic. He couldn’t stand seeing me so relaxed and was incredibly jealous of my job. While our boss was off on a digital-detox meditation retreat in the mountains, this new director used every dirty trick in the book to force me out, all so he could slide his little “boy toy” into my position. My life went from flexible, easy hours to a grueling 9-to-10 nightmare. I was utterly miserable. I planned to grit my teeth and hold on until the boss got back to put him in his place. But the day before the boss’s return, he posted a company-wide memo calling me out for spending more than five minutes in the bathroom. He publicly humiliated me, accusing me of slacking off and neglecting my duties, tearing me to shreds. It was bullying, plain and simple. Furious, I quit on the spot. And then, I smoothly accepted a job offer from the nearly bankrupt company right across the hall… the very company my boss was planning to acquire. 01 When my mom was pregnant with me, my uncle—who was really into astrology and horoscopes—calculated my due date. He pinpointed a specific day and claimed that if I were born then, I would bring immense wealth and good fortune to my parents. Unfortunately, I’ve never been one to follow the plan. Two days before that “lucky” date, I decided it was time to make my entrance. Even though my mom, desperate for me to bring them fortune, tried to hold it in and refused to go to the hospital, I was born smoothly and effortlessly. And just like that, I completely blew my chance at being a trust-fund baby. My uncle recalculated my birth chart and consoled my deeply disappointed parents, saying I was destined for a life of hard work. The silver lining? When I grew up, I’d be able to make a lot of money through my own hustle, so they wouldn’t have to worry about me living in their basement forever. My parents stressed over this for years! They often looked at me with deep pity. They were working-class folks themselves, yet they were already mourning the future working-class life of their little girl. But I bet they never imagined that my “destined life of hard work” would actually mean becoming a corporate mascot. It’s a funny story. When I interviewed for this company, the boss, frustrated by poor business performance, suspected bad feng shui. He hired a Feng Shui Master to evaluate the office. After touring the space, the Master asked HR for the employee files. After reviewing them, he told the boss that the feng shui was fine; the problem was the people. The boss was dumbfounded, thinking they had corporate spies. The Master elaborated, claiming that the zodiac signs of certain employees were clashing with the boss’s, and their astrological charts were negatively impacting him. When the Master pointed out the problematic individuals, the boss almost declared bankruptcy on the spot. Because those people, as luck would have it, were all top executives or shareholders. If they were just entry-level clerks, he could just fire them. But firing several top executives? That was basically the same as shutting the company down. Just as the boss was falling into despair, I arrived for my interview. As HR led me past the Master, he pointed at me and told the desperate boss that I had a “wealth-attracting” aura. After looking at my birth chart, the Master excitedly slapped his thigh. He declared that not only would I attract wealth, but I would also neutralize the negative energy from the other employees. He told the boss that if he wanted to save the company, he absolutely had to hire me. I was there for all of this. Hearing this nonsense, I thought I had stumbled into a scam company. This had to be some new kind of fraud. Terrified, I was ready to bolt. The boss, honestly, was only half-believing the Master’s words. But the Master, anxious for the boss’s sake, pleaded with me not to leave. This only made me more convinced it was a scam, and I pulled out my phone, ready to call 911. At that critical moment, a major client the boss had been trying to land for months showed up unannounced. The client said he was in the area for errands, remembered the boss’s office was nearby, and decided to drop in. The Master insisted the boss have me accompany them during the meeting. Under the condition of being paid a thousand dollars upfront before even doing any work, my fresh-out-of-college self completely caved to the temptation. That day, the client happily signed a massive contract, pulling the company back from the brink and turning a profit. 02 The boss had now witnessed my wealth-attracting power firsthand. But… I still didn’t plan on staying. I had interviewed for the R&D department, but the Master told the boss I belonged in Sales. And further, he claimed that whenever they were signing contracts with difficult clients, my presence was required to close the deal and ensure the company’s continued prosperity. It sounded like absolute BS. I didn’t believe a word of it. I was more inclined to believe the client signed so quickly because of the groundwork the boss had previously laid. But the boss… he bought it hook, line, and sinker! To keep me around, he offered a package I couldn’t refuse. He created a brand new role: “Sales Department Contract Specialist.” The salary was $10,000 a month plus commission, full benefits, no clocking in, and flexible hours. My job description? Sit in on meetings when sales reps brought clients in or were closing deals. And just like that, I stayed at the company for six years. Over those six years, as the boss grew the company, my salary steadily increased, and my reputation as the corporate mascot grew increasingly legendary. I thought I’d be at this company for the rest of my life. Then, everything changed half a month ago. The boss, planning another major expansion, promoted the original Sales Director to CEO of a new branch. He then poached a hotshot from a competitor with a hefty salary to drop into the headquarters as the new Sales Director. On his very first day, the boss called me into the new director’s office, Arthur Vance, specifically to introduce us. The boss explicitly told him not to assign me any actual work. Other than being present for client meetings and contract signings, I was free to do whatever I wanted. Right to the boss’s face, Arthur agreed perfectly. Feeling secure, the boss headed straight for the mountains for a two-week digital-detox meditation retreat, aiming to prolong his life so he could enjoy his wealth. The boss never could have imagined that the second he left, Arthur would turn on me… He called the entire sales department into the conference room. There, he aggressively insinuated that I was a shameless fraud who preyed on the boss’s superstitions to create a “wealth-attracting” persona, essentially freeloading off the company. I was so furious I almost fought him right then and there. The sales colleagues I was close with desperately tugged at my clothes under the table. They whispered for me to stay calm, saying he was just trying to provoke me into quitting. That way, even when the boss returned, Arthur could just claim I left on my own accord and wash his hands of it. Well, that wasn’t going to happen… My colleagues told me to endure it for now and complain to the boss when he got back. Fine! I’ll endure it… But my silence only made him more convinced I was a fraud. The next day, when I rolled into work after sleeping in (as usual), he immediately had HR notify me that I was three hours late. He docked my pay for the day and revoked my monthly perfect attendance bonus. He was messing with my money… The HR lady quickly comforted me, telling me not to be impulsive and fight the new director. She assured me the money would be refunded once the boss returned. Sure, she said that, but I still felt incredibly wronged. Seeing me looking so down, my sales department colleagues started feeding me snacks every few minutes. In no time, my desk was covered in boba tea, cake, cookies, chips, spicy snacks, fried chicken, fries, burgers… Sarah, the sales team lead, whispered in my ear, “Chloe, hang in there. When the boss gets back, we’ll make him apologize to you.” Sipping the boba a colleague had brought, my mood improved slightly. “It’s only day two without the boss, and I miss him already…” Sarah couldn’t help but laugh, then smoothly pulled out her phone and held it out to me, pleading, “Stop thinking about the boss for a second. Please make a call for me! I have to land this client. We were having a great conversation, but I couldn’t reach him all day yesterday. I’m sure a competitor is trying to poach him. You call him…” Under Sarah’s expectant gaze, I took the phone and pressed call. “Hello, Sarah…” The call connected instantly. Sarah took the phone back, giving me a thumbs-up while enthusiastically greeting the client on the other end: “Mr. Johnson!…” 03 I watched Sarah leave satisfied and checked the schedule. No sales reps had clients coming in today. Which meant my schedule for the rest of the day was completely open. But to prepare for sudden changes—like a client suddenly having free time or wanting to reschedule—I usually stayed at the office until the end of the workday anyway. Unlike other colleagues who, even when free, had to pretend to be busy, I could openly slack off, watch shows, and read novels when I had no work. My colleagues in the sales department, having worked with me for six years, had absolutely no problem with this. They even frequently recommended good novels and TV shows to me. They were actually terrified that I’d get bored sitting in the office, suddenly decide not to waste my life, and quit to pursue actual hard work. In the beginning, there were those who were resentful, but they were eventually slapped in the face by reality. They wholeheartedly agreed that I deserved the title of “mascot.” I had earned it. Because in my second year, feeling the job was too boring and not wanting to do sales, I begged the boss to transfer me to R&D. The boss couldn’t withstand my persistent begging and finally relented. The moment I left, bizarre things started happening. Several clients who were on the verge of signing inexplicably backed out. At first, the sales team hid this from the boss, thinking it was just a coincidence. They believed closing deals relied on negotiation skills and the company’s products, not on me. They stubbornly kept contacting the clients, trying to change their minds. But the clients were resolute. After all, the products we offered, other companies offered too, at the same price. But those other companies were larger, had better brand recognition, and naturally had an edge. It was tough for our company to compete. Seeing the clients slipping away, the sales team, not wanting to lose their commissions, went to the boss and explained the situation. The boss, furious, yanked me right out of R&D and back to the sales department to hold the fort. Then, the magic happened. A client who was literally on their way to sign with another company almost got into a car accident. Shaken, they decided halfway there to change course and sign with us instead. After that incident, the boss and the entire sales department were absolutely convinced of my metaphysical aura. Even the boss, who might have harbored a tiny sliver of doubt before, treated me even better after that. Except for forbidding me from ever returning to R&D. No matter what I said, I wasn’t allowed back… I was nervous! I had no confidence in this myself! I felt very insecure about my own so-called mascot aura. The boss and my colleagues noticed my restlessness and my desire to leave. That month, they took turns trying to persuade me. The sales team worked tirelessly to find clients and negotiate deals, targeting the top 100 on the “impossible to close” list. If they couldn’t get a meeting, they had me make the call. One call, one meeting. One meeting, one signed contract. That month, the company’s performance broke all records. It was a win-win-win for the boss, my colleagues, and me. The boss made money, my colleagues got their commissions, and my salary went up. From then on, I settled comfortably into the sales department. I ate, I drank, I played… The boss had no objections, my colleagues had no objections… But the new Sales Director had a massive problem with it. Arthur had just penalized my pay this morning for being late. Now, walking past my desk and seeing me watching a TV show, he immediately pivoted and stood beside me. He frowned, his face stern, and tapped his index finger on my desk. “Watching shows and slacking off during work hours is strictly prohibited. Didn’t you know that?” I took off my wireless earbuds and looked up at him. “What did you just say? I didn’t hear you.” His face grew even darker, and he barked, “Warning one for watching shows during work hours! That’s a $200 fine. Three warnings and you’re automatically terminated. I do not allow employees who lack drive and ambition to work under me.” Arthur said this very loudly, immediately panicking the colleagues who were secretly observing the situation. I was so angry I stood up and confronted him. “The boss allows me to watch shows! The boss hasn’t said a word, what right do you have to fine me and issue warnings?” Arthur calmly retorted, “The right of being your direct supervisor. As long as you are in the sales department, I have the authority to manage you.” A colleague stepped up to defend me. “Director Vance, Chloe is different…” Before the colleague could finish, Arthur rudely cut them off. “There is no ‘different.’ There are no special privileges here. If everyone in the sales department acted like her, how would this company ever grow? Do you have too much free time, standing up for her? If you have that much free time, why don’t you make a few more calls and find some new clients? What are you all staring at? Stop working and you can go drink the north wind!”