I was scrolling through Reddit when I saw a photo of myself. The caption read: [Title: My online girlfriend of one year refuses to meet me. What should I do?] The next second, my roommate suddenly leaned in close: “Guys, how can I lose 30 pounds in a month?” While I was still confused, she added: “Lily, if I lose weight, do you think we’d look alike?” 1 I stared at the Reddit post. The comments had already piled up into a skyscraper. [Bro, wake up. That’s definitely a catfish using a stolen photo. You’re being scammed!] [She won’t meet you because the photos are probably edited beyond recognition. Why else would she be scared?] The OP was still desperately defending her: [Impossible. We’ve voice chatted, and she sends me selfies from different angles every day. It can’t be Photoshop!] My mind went blank. In that photo, I was wearing my pajamas. There was no way that photo should be public. Just then, Bella’s voice floated down from the top bunk: “Guys, seriously, is it possible to lose 30 pounds in a month?” Another roommate on the opposite bed rolled over laughing. “Why? Are you in love? Losing 30 pounds in a month? You might as well starve to death!” Bella ignored her. She climbed down the ladder and ran over to me. Her gaze fixed straight on my face, scanning my features inch by inch. I was creeped out by her staring and took a step back. Suddenly, she spoke: “Lily, be honest. “If I lose weight, do you think we’d look somewhat alike?” The air froze. I looked up at her round cheeks, words stuck in my throat. 2 My heart hammered against my ribs, but I pushed down the rising panic. I kept my voice steady: “Who’s your boyfriend? Do we know him?” Bella lifted her chin. “You know Sterling Real Estate? He’s from that family!” She pulled a boastful smile. “Last month he sent me a bracelet worth over a grand, and he said he’d take me to meet his parents after graduation.” My roommate snorted with laughter. “A rich kid? He must have… unique tastes.” The smugness on Bella’s face instantly solidified, then her face flushed red. “What do you mean? He loves my soul!” Her voice was shrill, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “He says I’m interesting, I understand him! I get him! What do you guys know!” The dorm fell silent, the atmosphere awkward. That Reddit thread was still updating. The OP asked: [I want to surprise her. What kind of guys do girls like this go for?] I looked up. Looking at Bella’s red nose. “Have you guys met in person? Is this an online relationship?” The other two roommates looked at her simultaneously, waiting for an answer. “Bella, don’t tell me you’ve never met?” “Yeah, don’t tell me you’re catfishing him.” It was meant as a joke, but the blood drained from Bella’s face rapidly. Her lips pressed tightly together. A moment later, she hastily dropped a “My advisor is looking for me” and grabbed her coat, rushing out the door. 3 The three of us left in the dorm looked at each other. That night, Bella couldn’t help showing off again. “Ethan knew I was in a bad mood today, so he ordered me a premium sushi platter. Four figures per person!” She brought back a takeout box that looked expensive. But I clearly saw my name on the receipt. The roommates exploded. “Holy crap! Ethan Sterling? Isn’t he the heartthrob from F University next door?” “He’s the heir to Sterling Real Estate? Bella, you caught a golden turtle!” She laughed lightly. “Of course. My boyfriend loves me very much!” No one needed to pry. Bella voluntarily confessed everything about Ethan. “My boyfriend loves gentle and considerate women like me the most. “Especially girls who love small animals.” She talked endlessly. “He says he likes me best with long hair, wearing dresses, looking clean and fresh.” “But your hair isn’t long…” A roommate pointed out. Bella choked and stopped talking. Likes long hair, wearing dresses, right? Well then, I’ll happily accept this boyfriend. 4 Weekend. I deliberately chose a white sundress. My long hair was let down, with just a simple wooden hairpin holding up a few strands. In the mirror, I looked like the picture of innocence. I waited by the basketball court at F University for nearly half an hour. Finally, Ethan walked toward the court. Simple white T-shirt, grey sweatpants, tall and straight. My heartbeat started to speed up, but it was mostly a strange kind of excitement. I took a deep breath, suppressing the nervousness. I quickened my pace, pretending to be distracted, and just as he was about to enter the court, I suddenly turned. “Oh!” I feigned panic. My whole body crashed into him. I fell precisely into his arms. A faint scent of sandalwood filled my nose. Reflexively, he reached out to steady my waist. “Ah! I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, still in his arms, my long hair cascading down. Ethan was stunned by this sudden “attack.” He looked down at me, his eyes full of surprise. “You…” Just as he started to speak, I interrupted him. “Sorry, sorry, I was in such a hurry to get back to class, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I quickly stood firm, keeping my head down, avoiding his eyes. Leaving a hurried apology, I turned and walked away quickly. I could feel his gaze on my back, but I walked faster. Behind me, he seemed to be calling me, but I turned a deaf ear. 5 I walked briskly, heading straight for the school gate. Behind me came the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting. “Miss!” I didn’t stop, continuing forward. “Miss, please wait!” He finally caught up, grabbing my wrist. Like a startled rabbit, I whipped my head around, my face showing just the right amount of panic. “What… what are you doing?” I looked at him, my eyes full of defensiveness and confusion. Ethan was panting, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. He looked at me, his eyes holding complex emotions I couldn’t read. “I…” He seemed to be organizing his words. I spoke first, a hint of grievance in my tone: “I apologized just now, I didn’t mean to bump into you.” I lowered my head, my voice getting smaller, “Do you want something else?” Looking pitiful, as if scared by him. He froze. His brows furrowed tightly, staring dead at my face, as if confirming something. “You don’t know me?” He finally asked the question. I looked up, blinked blankly, and then burst out laughing. The laugh was light, with a trace of amused helplessness. “Should we know each other?” I tilted my head looking at him, my eyes clear and open, full of pure unfamiliarity. “Is this the popular way guys pick up girls nowadays?” I deliberately dragged out the tone, a bit of teasing in my smile. With that, I didn’t give him any time to react. I pulled my wrist back and waved at him. “I’m leaving now, bye.” I turned. And walked toward the bus stop without looking back. I could feel his burning gaze, but I didn’t dare turn around. 6 My heart raced all the way back, but my face remained calm. Pushing open the dorm door, Bella was showing off a brand new Chanel box. “Look, Ethan sent me a New Year’s gift.” She lifted her chin, unable to hide her smugness. “The latest bag, a Chanel dress, and he transferred me $5200.” I didn’t speak, silently changing my shoes. She glanced at me and clicked her tongue. “Look at you, wasting that face. All you know is working part-time jobs, you deserve to be tired.” She looked me up and down contemptuously. “You don’t even know how to use your advantages.” I put down my water bottle, smiled, and didn’t reply. Just then, her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, a flash of panic crossed Bella’s face. She took the phone to the balcony, lowering her voice. But I could still hear snippets, her tone urgent and fawning. A few minutes later, she walked back in, looking grim. “Hey,” she started unnaturally, “send me a selfie of you, right now.” I knew what was happening. “Sure.” I agreed readily, not asking why. I opened my gallery, deliberately scrolling past a few normal photos. Finally, I picked one from before I left today, wearing the white dress, hair down, smiling at the sunlight in the most clean and harmless way. Bella immediately looked down and tapped furiously on her phone. I pretended to organize my things, but watched her out of the corner of my eye. I saw her brows knitting tighter and tighter, staring at the screen, as if typing furiously at someone. Finally, she threw her phone onto the desk in frustration. Muttering unconsciously to herself: “What’s going on… he’s acting weird today.” I lowered my head, the corners of my mouth uncontrollably curling up.

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Two months into my successful online relationship, I finally decided to get serious about fitness. As I sat there, a series of comments suddenly flashed across my vision like a live-stream chat: 【Wait, what’s happening? Why is the filler girl starting a diet? If she actually gets thin, how is our Main Girl supposed to take her place next to the hero?】 【Don’t worry, she’s got zero self-esteem. Our beautiful Lead just needs to mock her a few times and she’ll quit. She never actually succeeds.】 【Am I the only one who thinks the Lead is kind of a snake? I mean, the filler girl edited her photos to look thinner, but those are still her photos. The Lead is out here lying, saying she’s the girl in the pictures and framing her roommate for catfishing.】 【Honestly, Riley’s got great bone structure. If she actually lost the weight, she’d be a total high-fashion goddess.】 【What are the people above me talking about? Riley is 5’6″ and 150 pounds—she’s a whale. How does she have the nerve to date a guy like Liam? He’s a billionaire’s son with model looks. She’s delusional.】 I froze. The next second, my roommate pulled back her bed curtain, her face mask glistening under the dorm lights. She glanced at my desk. “Whoa, Riley! A garden salad for dinner? Again?” Chloe gave me a pitying smile. “I get it, you’re trying to lose weight. But with your ‘large frame,’ you’re never going to look right thin. Why put yourself through the torture?” 1 Chloe looked me up and down. Her voice was light, but her eyes were cold. If this were the old Riley, I would have turned beet-red. I would have hidden my salad like a criminal and stuttered an explanation about how I wasn’t really trying that hard. I’d felt it before—this subtle malice from her. Whenever I mentioned the gym, she’d complain about being “too skinny.” If I skipped a late-night pizza run, she’d announce to the whole study hall, “Riley, are you seriously not eating anything today? Dieting looks so exhausting!” I used to dismiss it. Chloe was the campus “It Girl.” Why would she be jealous of me? Until now. The chat in front of my eyes started scrolling again: 【LMAO, I love it when the Lead is being a little bit of a mean girl. It’s cute.】 【She’s doing it on purpose. She knows the other roommates called Riley ‘cute’ once, and Chloe’s ego couldn’t handle it. She’s been gaslighting her ever since.】 【Our girl is just a protective little cat. She’s about to go do her skincare routine and meet the Male Lead. His love is going to give her all the security she needs!】 I clenched my fists. I looked Chloe dead in the eyes. For the first time, I didn’t back down. “Maybe,” I said, my voice steady. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise myself.” 2 The air in the room turned cold. The chat went wild. 【Is she serious? She thinks she can actually be a baddie?】 【Is she trying to pick a fight with our Lead? Is this a ‘Pick-Me’ move??】 I realized then that I was a character in a “Sweet Romance” novel. Chloe was the lead, and I was the “insecure roommate”—the foil. In the original plot, my insecurity led me to send edited photos to my online boyfriend, Liam Sterling. Chloe eventually discovers that my online “Liam” is the billionaire heir and campus king she’s crushed on for two years. Since my edited photos look a bit like Chloe with makeup on, she swoops in. She meets him in person, claims I was the one using her photos, and paints me as a lying thief. Liam blocks me, falls for Chloe, and I transfer schools in shame. Chloe’s smile faltered. She gave me a look that was half-mocking, half-suspicious. “Sure. Good luck with that.” She turned to her vanity and began applying a very specific style of “clean girl” makeup—soft and innocent. She pulled out a white sundress I’d never seen her wear. She looked exactly like the girl in the photos I’d sent to Liam. 3 After Chloe left, I used the info from the chat to look up “Liam Sterling.” He was the second son of the Sterling Group. He kept a low profile, but one of his frat brothers had posted a video where he appeared for a split second. Even in a blurry frame, his jawline was lethal. My phone buzzed. [TurtleGuy99]: You there? [TurtleGuy99]: What are you doing? I miss you. [TurtleGuy99]: Sent you a gift. Check your mail. Hope you like it. He was always so direct. I hesitated. I had to tell him the truth before Chloe got to him. I didn’t care if the “readers” called me a snake. [Me]: Are you free? Let’s meet. [Me]: The coffee shop on 5th and Main. I sat in the coffee shop, heart hammering. Liam hadn’t replied. Had Chloe already found him? The bell chimed. A tall man in a charcoal overcoat walked in. He looked around with cool eyes. When his gaze landed on me, he paused. He walked straight to my table. “…Riley?” I looked up. The jawline matched… but he looked older, sharper. “You’re Liam?” I asked. He hesitated, then pulled out a chair. “…Yes. That’s me.” 4 I was nervous under his gaze. I laid it all out. I told him about the editing, the lies, the insecurity. I didn’t mention Chloe, because I couldn’t explain how I knew her plan. “So… yeah,” I finished, staring at my lap. I waited for the shock. The anger. Silence. I looked up. He was just… staring at me. “Mr. Sterling?” I prompted. He snapped out of it and took a sip of his coffee. “You think you’re overweight? Why?” “I think you’re perfect,” he continued, his voice deep. “You’re actually very cute.” I blinked. What? This wasn’t the reaction from the “novel.” The chat reappeared: 【Riley is so dumb, still waiting for a text. Meanwhile, Liam is literally wrapping his arm around Chloe’s waist at the park. I’m swooning!】 【Chloe is so smart. She ‘accidentally’ tripped into him, and he caught her. Peak romance.】 I looked at the man in front of me. “You’re not Liam, are you?” He froze. He looked at his phone, then back at me. The confusion leaving his face. “I apologize,” he said smoothly. “I’m Liam’s older brother, Julian Sterling.” 5 Julian explained that the family had found out about Liam’s “online fling” weeks ago. “In a family like ours, we don’t exactly encourage digital romances,” Julian said. “I was told to handle it. Liam left his iPad at home today with his accounts synced. I saw your message and decided to see who was on the other end.” “Then why didn’t you tell me immediately?” I asked. Julian looked down. “Honestly? I was stunned. And I didn’t expect my brother to blow you off to meet someone else.” I felt a sting of rejection, but Julian wasn’t done. “Liam is still a kid. Our parents control him. But I’m different.” He looked at me, his ears turning red. “I’m the CEO. I choose who I marry. And honestly? I think I just fell for you at first sight. Could you… consider me instead?” 6 When I got back to the dorm, I was still dazed. Chloe was bragging to our roommates. “Riley, you’re back! I met the most incredible guy today. Rich, handsome, and totally into me.” She was still in that white dress. She looked like the girl in my edited photos. But I wasn’t sad. I just said, “That’s nice, Chloe.” I checked my phone. Liam had finally messaged me. [TurtleGuy99]: Sorry, was busy. Didn’t see the text. [TurtleGuy99]: You working a part-time job? Don’t push yourself. He Venmoed me $20,000. Attached was a high-def selfie. He was handsome, but a completely different type than Julian. [TurtleGuy99]: So you don’t forget what I look like. The chat scrolled by: 【LMAO Liam thinks the Lead is his online girl. He’s giving Riley’s money to Chloe!】 【Oh my god! Liam, you sent it to the wrong person! That’s Chloe’s money now!】 【Don’t worry, they’ll meet tomorrow and the real drama starts.】 I looked at the mention of Julian—the older brother—and my face felt hot. I immediately sent the $20,000 back. [Me]: I’m not broke, and I don’t work part-time. You’ve got the wrong person. For the next few weeks, Chloe went full “innocent girl” mode. I, meanwhile, hit the gym every day. 7 Liam finally asked to meet. [TurtleGuy99]: Let’s meet. For real. 【It’s happening! The moment Liam falls for Chloe!】 【The whale is too scared to go, but Chloe is going to drag her there anyway to show him the difference!】 I replied: “Sure. But let’s make it after winter break.”

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My husband is a stuffy traditionalist, the kind of man who refuses to sleep with me. To keep this she-wolf at bay, he buttons his pajamas up to the very top button every night and even tucks a Bible under my pillow before we go to sleep. I’d finally had enough and was about to file for divorce when a string of comments suddenly materialized before my eyes: 【Poor Dragon Lord, about to be abandoned right in the middle of his heat.】 【This side character is so blind. He’s not putting a Bible under your pillow, it’s The Art of Seduction: 108 Positions!】 【Why don’t you just touch him? The Dragon Lord’s cock is about to explode! If he wasn’t so scared of freaking you out, he would have taken you hard a long time ago!】 I froze, pulling back the divorce papers I was about to hand him. Then, I reached out and grazed his abs. 1 The man’s expression was indifferent, his amber eyes watching me calmly. “What are you doing?” His voice was as cool and detached as ever. The floating comments continued to scroll past: 【Is the male lead a ninja? How can he hold back like this? It’s the third day of his heat!】 【It’s not his fault! He’s just terrified of scaring her off, so he’s forcing himself to be a perfect gentleman. He’s hopelessly in love with her.】 【No wonder she thinks he doesn’t like her. Tonight she’s going to storm off to a club to find a male model and get caught! That’s how the male lead and the female lead finally meet.】 Getting caught with a male model? Don’t just make stuff up that hasn’t even happened! I casually shifted my gaze away from the comments. “N-nothing. There was just a smudge on your shirt. I was just wiping it off for you.” Arthur Price didn’t say a word, just stared at me for so long I started to think he’d figured out I was planning to divorce him. Nervous, I was about to crumple the divorce papers in my hand when I saw him grab his bathrobe and head into the bathroom. My heart sank. I barely touched him, and he had to go wash himself? Is he really that repulsed by me? But the comments were going wild: 【Silly girl, he’s not washing you off, he’s… hehehe…】 【OMG! He finally lost it! She just touched him and he’s already in the shower taking a cold one.】 【Ah! He’s in there whispering her name!】 My face flushed. Was this a comment section or a peep show? An hour later, Arthur emerged from the bathroom, his voice much clearer. “There’s a charity gala hosted by the Landon Group tonight. You’re coming with me.” I frowned. “I don’t think so…” Those events are always so boring and exhausting. Arthur reached out and grabbed my sleeve, his tone softening into something almost like a plea. “Just this once.” The comments exploded: 【Aww, he’s lowering himself to ask her, but she’s still going to refuse and go find that model!】 【The Dragon Lord, abandoned during his heat, only to find his wife with another man. He’ll be heartbroken, and that’s when the female lead comes in to save him. Their love story starts tonight!】 【Just agree! If you don’t, it’s game over for you two tonight!】 【Not only game over, but without his protection, his other admirers are going to torture her half to death.】 A shiver ran down my spine. The refusal on the tip of my tongue took a sharp turn. “Fine. I’ll humor you this time.” The comments went nuts: 【Wait, what? How did she agree?】 Arthur seemed to let out a quiet sigh of relief. Before, I would never have noticed. But now, a comment reading, “A dragon’s Adam’s apple is an erogenous zone,” emboldened me to take a closer look. And that’s when I saw it. The corners of his eyes were tinged with red, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor. A suspicious, feverish heat seemed to radiate from his entire body. On a whim, I reached out and touched his Adam’s apple. Arthur shuddered violently, his breath catching in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a low groan rumbled from his chest. “You… you…” Startled, I snatched my hand back. “I’m sorry! If you don’t like it, I won’t touch you again!” This was the complete opposite of the “tail-wagging-for-pets” reaction the comments described! 2 The comments fired off in a rapid stream: 【Do you even know how to touch a man? If not, let me! That’s not him disliking it, that’s him getting turned on!】 【Arthur’s inner thoughts: My wife touched my throat! She touched me! Is this my chance to finally become a dad?!】 I looked skeptically from the comments to Arthur. The next second, he grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly against his neck, his voice muffled. “I like it.” My jaw nearly hit the floor. At my core, I’m a shameless simp for a handsome face. The first time I saw Arthur Price three years ago, I was completely smitten. A year ago, when I heard the Price family was arranging a marriage, I fought my way through a sea of heiresses to marry into his family. Who knew that after tying the knot, I’d be living like a widow? The man either slept in the study or a guest room. On the rare occasion he came to our bedroom, he kept an entire galaxy’s worth of distance between us. If it were just that, I could have tolerated it. After all, getting to see Arthur’s handsome face every day was a blessing in itself. But for the past few nights! He kept pulling me into his arms in his sleep, mumbling someone else’s name. “Treasure, Treasure,” he’d whisper, over and over. My name is Nina, damn it, not Treasure! I couldn’t take it anymore. This morning, I was dead set on divorce. But now… I looked at the man whose face was beet red from a single touch. I stroked my chin with my free hand. Maybe I could hold out for a few more days. Based on these comments, we might actually sleep together soon. And I’m supposed to just hand him over to some “female lead” at a time like this? Not a chance in hell. Arthur’s body was rigid, a flash of embarrassed anger on his cool face. “Don’t do that…” He lowered his eyes, his puppy-dog gaze looking a little misty. “Stroking my chin like that… it’s like petting a dog. It’s humiliating.” I snatched my hand back, forcing a laugh. “Sorry, I zoned out. Would you believe I meant to stroke my own chin?” Arthur’s brow furrowed, his expression turning stormy. “Zoned out? Thinking about another man in front of me again?” His gaze was intense. “I saw you touching someone else the other day. Why won’t you touch me?” “Even if I don’t like it, you can’t just… not touch me…” He pressed his lips together, swallowing the rest of his sentence. I was surprised by how much he was talking today, but also a little baffled. “You say you don’t like it, but you’re insisting that I touch you?” “What the hell do you want?!” The comments sighed: 【She’s just impossible. Pushing him right into the female lead’s arms one step at a time.】 My crude words sent Arthur storming off. The comments lamented: 【And with that, he’s gone. By the time they see each other again, everything will have changed.】 3 【I really ship them. If only she could read minds, they wouldn’t have all these misunderstandings.】 【She’s so clueless. No matter how hot the models are, are they hotter than Arthur? More handsome? Do they last longer?】 How would I know if he lasts long? We’ve never even done it. And who said I was going to find a male model? I was going to march right into that kitchen and make my darling husband a bento box. Then I’d take it straight to his office. I was going to see for myself if this guy was really the volcano of passion the comments claimed, ready to erupt from a single touch. While I was cooking, my dad called. “Sweetheart, I hear Arthur is taking you to the gala tonight?” “Mhm,” I said, arranging cooked corn kernels into a heart shape. My dad’s voice was earnest. “Honey, maybe don’t go out carousing tonight, okay?” “And delete some of those guys from your phone. You don’t need so many contacts.” I paused. I remembered going out for drinks with friends a few days ago. I had indeed added a lot of new contacts. “Okay, Dad, I know.” “Gotta go, I’m making a special bento for Arthur. I have to deliver it soon.” Maybe it was the thrill of my long-held crush finally seeing the light of day, but my hands were shaking by the time I got to the Price Corporation building. Suddenly, the comments started up again: 【Why is she here now? If I remember correctly, the female lead is applying for the secretary position today. She’s probably in Arthur’s office right now.】 【This is going to be a train wreck of epic proportions. I can’t watch…】 Not on my watch! I quickened my pace into the building. Just as I was about to get on the elevator, the receptionist stopped me. “Hello, do you have an appointment?” An appointment? “No, but I’m—” The receptionist cut me off before I could finish. “Without an appointment, you’ll have to wait in the lobby. I can schedule one for you.” Another receptionist sneered. “Ashley, don’t be so soft. We get women throwing themselves at Mr. Price all the time.” “Why book her an appointment? If you ask me, we should just throw out anyone trying to sleep her way to the top.” The woman called Ashley frowned. “Don’t be rude.” I sighed and pulled out my phone to call Arthur’s executive assistant, Mr. Davis. “I’m at the front desk. Could you come get me?” Two minutes later, to the utter shock of the receptionists, I was riding the private executive elevator with Mr. Davis. As we reached the office, before we even went in, I could hear voices from inside. A delicate female voice cried out. “Mr. Price, what’s wrong?” “Oh my god, you’re burning up! Do you need help?” 4 Arthur’s cool voice followed, laced with exhaustion. “No. Don’t touch me. Just get out.” The sound of shattering glass, then the woman’s voice rose. “How can I leave you alone like this? Don’t worry, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Arthur’s voice was now thick with anger. “I said don’t touch me. Get away from me.” Mr. Davis glanced at me, his expression awkward, but he pushed the door open for me. The room was a mess. A woman with flushed cheeks was holding onto Arthur’s arm. When her gaze fell on me, her pretty, doe-like eyes filled with a timid fear. She spoke demurely. “Mr. Price is sick. As a secretarial candidate, it’s my duty to take care of him.” Mr. Davis’s face hardened. He went over and supported Arthur himself. “You haven’t passed the interview yet. You’re not needed here. Please leave.” Arthur looked terrible. The hair at his temples was soaked with sweat. He looked at me, tried to speak, but only managed a pained grunt. Mr. Davis called to me. “Mrs. Price, please, come closer.” “Mr. Price… he needs you right now.” I hesitated, feeling like something was about to happen if I got any closer. But then I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? We end up sleeping together right here? Isn’t that why I married him in the first place? What was I so afraid of? I gave myself a mental pep talk, took Mr. Davis’s place, and supported Arthur. His body was terrifyingly hot. The moment I touched him, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his breathing ragged and chaotic. Mr. Davis closed the door and left. Arthur shifted restlessly against me, like a big, miserable dog. 【What’s happening? Did he just kick the female lead out?】 【Isn’t helping him with his heat the female lead’s job? Why is the side character doing it?】 【The side character is fine too! Is this train about to leave the station? Go for it! Don’t let that dragon get away!】 My body was stiff. I didn’t dare move. “Um, I brought you lunch. Are you hungry? Want a bite?” 【I can’t with her. He wants to eat you, you idiot.】 【Stop asking if he wants to eat and kiss him now! Only a wild, passionate f*ck can satisfy him.】 【Are you guys crazy? If she satisfies him, what happens to the female lead? The main couple is the OTP!】 【Who cares about the OTP! I just want some smut, or my VIP subscription is a waste! Go, girl, go!】 The comments were making me antsy. My inhibitions were crumbling. I was just about to grab Arthur’s face and kiss him when he pushed me away, his expression screaming stay away from me. “Sorry. I’ll handle this myself. I won’t hold you like that again.” I flared up. He held me, he rubbed against me, and now he was saying he wouldn’t do it again? What was that supposed to mean? Was I not good enough to hold? “Fine. Should I go get that secretary for you?” I shot him a sidelong glance, waiting for his answer. Suddenly, I felt something cold and scaly slithering around my calf. I looked down and almost fainted. 5 A thick, black dragon tail, its scales shimmering in the sunlight. My hand trembled as I pointed. “Y-y-you…” Do monsters not even bother to hide anymore? Wrapping his tail around me in broad daylight? Arthur’s body went rigid for a second. He reached down to grab his tail. “Sorry, I…” I wasn’t listening anymore. It was terrifying. The tail was so creepy, and Arthur’s eyes had turned into vertical, dark green slits. For a moment, I thought I was seeing Godzilla. I turned to run, but he yanked me back. The dragon tail wrapped around my ankle again, and Arthur’s scorching body pressed against my back. His voice was hoarse and pleading, like a wet, pathetic puppy. “Don’t be afraid of me. Please.” 【Wasn’t he supposed to reveal his S-form tonight? Why is it happening now…】 【His soft, sweet wife is right there. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.】 【This is what you get for being so repressed all the time. Now you’ve blown your cover and scared your wife half to death.】 【Does this mean we’re getting an office play scene? I’m waiting!】 I stood frozen, trying to soothe him. “I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell anyone. Just don’t…” Before I could finish, sharp teeth grazed the skin on my neck. It didn’t hurt, just tickled. I was even more terrified. “Don’t scare me. Put the teeth away.” “I’m just a normal person. I can’t handle you taking a bite out of me.” How could he be so cruel? I just wanted to sleep with him, and he wanted to kill me. His ragged breathing hitched. The pressure on my neck disappeared. Arthur let me go, steadied his breathing, and said softly, “Go. I won’t force you.” I bolted. I’ve been afraid of Godzilla since I was a kid. I thought, based on the comments, that lust would conquer fear. Arthur was so ridiculously handsome, I could have accepted him being a dragon. But after today, I was done. His tail comes out and I start shaking. How is this supposed to work? It’s not! 【Wait, what? You’re just going to leave him like that?】 【He couldn’t even control his S-form! Leaving him now is like a death sentence!】 【If a shifter in heat doesn’t get relief, it’s really dangerous. They can get a high fever, even have seizures.】 I stopped in my tracks, my heart twisting in indecision. Arthur… was in danger? Maybe… I should go back and check on him? I turned and started walking back to his office. The comments erupted: 【Here we go, here we go! The iconic scene is about to happen!】 【I just hope when she sees it, she doesn’t blame him.】 6 In the end, I didn’t go back. Because the comments told me exactly what the “iconic scene” was. 【He’s in there right now, masturbating to her picture.】 【Don’t blame him! It’s the only way he can get any relief right now.】 【Even though the scene is censored, just the text description is so hot, I can’t take it.】 I couldn’t take it either. I slapped my forehead and hurried out of the Price building. My phone kept buzzing. It was messages from the male model I’d added a few days ago. 【Hey, gorgeous. Are you going to the Price gala tonight?】 【I’ve missed you so much since we last met. I wish I’d met you sooner.】 【You mentioned last time that your husband can’t get it up. I remember.】 【I brought some pills this time. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied~】 I frowned. That didn’t sound right. When had I ever told an outsider that Arthur couldn’t perform? The most I’d said was that he was cold and made me sleep alone every night. I checked the contact name. A model named Cody. Didn’t ring a bell. Whatever. At a time like this, who cares who he was? Delete. 【My husband is great, actually. I’ve turned over a new leaf. Don’t contact me again.】 I still didn’t know if Arthur was “great,” but his tail and fangs certainly were. If he ever found out I was texting male models behind his back, he’d never let me live it down. I didn’t need that kind of trouble. As I left the building, I saw a beautiful, fragile-looking woman standing by the entrance. When she saw me, she immediately glided over. “Hello, Mrs. Price. I’m here to apply for the position of Mr. Price’s secretary.” She held out her hand, her posture a little arrogant. I paused, then shook it, giving it a firm squeeze. Bianca winced, her pretty face contorting for a second. I felt much better. Revenge is a dish best served immediately. That’s what you get for being so high and mighty. I could crush you. Bianca gritted her teeth, her tone mocking. “Mrs. Price, if I were you, I’d have a little self-awareness.” “I hear you’ve been married for a year and still sleep in separate beds? It’s obvious Mr. Price has no interest in you.” “Someone from a no-name family like yours might have the title of Mrs. Price, but you won’t hold onto it for long.” I gave her a strange look. “Who told you my family is no-name? My dad’s company has an annual net worth in the billions.” She fell silent, her face a mask of disbelief. She opened her mouth to argue. I pinched her mouth shut. “Quiet. My head is a mess right now. I don’t have time for your games.” “And for the record, Arthur likes me a lot. He was just holding me and calling me his darling baby a minute ago.” Bianca muffled a protest, her face turning red with anger. I fished a business card out of my pocket. “You seem qualified. Don’t waste your time chasing after one man.” “Come work for my company. I’ll double your salary. Think about it and call me anytime.”

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1 After getting my year-end bonus, I bought my grad student boyfriend a pair of limited-edition Air Jordans. The next day, I found them on a resale app, listed for a fifth of the price. The box was still sealed. I bought them instantly. Once they arrived, I confirmed the delivery and then dialed his number. “Hey babe, did you like the little surprise I got you?” He sounded confused. “What surprise?” I let out a small, wounded laugh. “The classic Patek Philippe watch I hid inside the shoebox. It’s worth over fifty thousand. You didn’t see it?” … I was scrolling through ReSell on a lazy weekend when a local listing caught my eye. [Limited-Edition Air Jordans, Size 11, Brand New/Unopened, Authentic! Needs to go fast! Only $400!] I stared at the screen, my mind blanking for a second. I’d just bought the exact same pair a few days ago. Same model, same size. Because they were a limited release and a rare size, I’d pulled three all-nighters camping online to snag them, paying nearly two thousand dollars. Had to be fakes, right? I clicked on the post and swiped through the photos. My breath caught when I saw the gift wrap on the shoebox. A pale grey paper with a subtle, silver-stamped pattern. It was the exact one I’d chosen. The official store packaging was too plain, so I’d gone to two different specialty shops, agonizing over the options before settling on this one. I’d picked the most understated grey I could find, worried he might think anything else was too flashy. I told myself it was just a coincidence, but a chill was already creeping up my fingers. I tapped on the seller’s profile. The IP address was in the same state. After a long moment of silence, I opened a chat with the seller. “Hi, are the sneakers still available? Are they authentic? Why are they so cheap?” A reply came back instantly. “Hey, don’t worry, they’re 100% legit. Shipped straight from the flagship store. The box hasn’t even been opened.” He followed up with a screenshot of the shipping confirmation. Recipient: Dan. The sender was my online store ID. My phone nearly slipped from my hand. The seller was my boyfriend, Dan. And that shipping screenshot? I was the one who sent it to him. My fingers felt stiff. I took a deep breath and navigated to his ReSell profile, scrolling down. In the six months we’d been together, almost everything I’d ever given him was on there. The brand-name headphones I got him for our one-month anniversary, listed for two hundred. The gaming console for our 100-day celebration, listed for four hundred. The new tablet he said he needed for his thesis research, listed for nine hundred. All of them were marked as “Sold.” And then I saw the scarf. The one I’d hand-knitted for him last winter, working until my fingers were raw and blistered. He had held me so tight when I gave it to him, promising he’d wear it forever. Now, it was listed for ten dollars, shipping included. The description read: Gift from a friend. Not my style. Unworn. I stared at those words, a wave of nausea washing over me. Looking back, the frequency with which Dan asked for gifts was absurd. And there was always a reason. Our one-month anniversary, our 100 days, his birthday, the day his thesis proposal was approved… I bought him something every single time. I had been working for two years while he was still in grad school. I figured he didn’t have an income, so I tried my best to make sure he never had to spend money on me. That’s why I never complained when his gifts to me were cheap snack boxes or little trinkets he’d won from some online referral game. I thought I was being understanding. Now I saw the truth. In his eyes, I was just an ATM. Just then, another message popped up in the chat. “Hello? You still want them? If you’re serious, I can knock a little more off the price. Can ship today.” 2 I stared at the message, a bitter mix of emotions churning inside me. Should I just confront him? Break up and tell him to get lost? No, that would be letting him off way too easy. After a moment’s thought, I closed the chat window and changed my shipping address to my best friend’s apartment complex. Double-checking the details, I hit “Buy Now.” The instant the payment went through, a new message appeared. “Awesome! I see you’re local. I’ll get a courier to bring it over right now! Please confirm the delivery as soon as you get it. I really need the cash!” I stared at his words for a second before typing back: “Fine, send it.” An hour later, I was at my best friend Sophie’s place, holding the package. The shoebox was pristine, the seal perfectly intact. The custom greeting card I’d asked the store to include was still tucked into the side. He hadn’t even bothered to open it. “Isn’t that the pair you got for Dan?” Sophie frowned, leaning in for a closer look. “What’s going on?” I handed her my phone, letting her read through the ReSell history. Her expression grew colder with every swipe. “That scumbag!” she seethed. “What are you going to do? Drive down to his campus and slap him?” I shook my head. “Where’s the fun in that?” If he wanted to cash in on my gifts, I was going to make sure he lost more than he could ever imagine. Just then, another notification popped up from ReSell. “Hey, the courier says it’s been delivered. Could you please confirm the receipt? I’m in a real hurry here, trying to get money together for my girlfriend’s birthday present.” I froze. Girlfriend? My birthday is in October. It was only March. Which girlfriend was he buying a gift for? Sophie saw the message too and scoffed. “So the jerk isn’t just using you as a piggy bank, he’s cheating on you too! Unbelievable!” I didn’t say a word. I just tapped “Confirm Receipt.” The moment the money transferred, I grabbed a small paring knife from Sophie’s fruit bowl and made a tiny, deliberate slice in the outer gift wrap. Then I took a photo and sent it to Dan’s ReSell account. “Hi, I just started opening the package and noticed the wrapping is damaged here.” Dan exploded. “What? No way, lady! It was perfect when I gave it to the courier! There wasn’t a single tear on it! You did that yourself, didn’t you?” “You didn’t check it on the spot, and now you’re claiming it’s damaged after you signed for it? Who knows if you didn’t slice it yourself? Trying to get a discount? Not happening!” “You’ve already confirmed the receipt! The condition of the item has nothing to do with me anymore! Don’t even think about trying to scam me!” And with that, before I could even reply, he blocked me. A slow smile spread across my face. That was the guarantee I was waiting for. The condition of the item has nothing to do with me anymore. I switched back to my phone app and called Dan immediately. He answered, his voice cheerful. “Hey babe, what’s up? Miss me already?” “Mhm,” I replied. “Just wanted to ask if you got the shoes. Do they fit okay?” There was a brief pause on the other end. “Yeah, I got them,” he said, his tone a little strained. “They fit great, but honey… I don’t really like them.” “Oh? Why not?” “I’m in my second year of grad school, about to start internships and look for a real job. Wearing sneakers that cost thousands of dollars just feels… a little immature.” He paused, then deliberately softened his voice. “I know you meant well, Mia, but I need to build a more professional image now. These shoes just don’t fit with that.” I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. “I see. Well, you should return them. The website has a seven-day return policy as long as they haven’t been worn. That’s almost two thousand dollars. We can get you something more professional with the refund.” 3 “Don’t!” he cut in hastily. “But you said you didn’t like them?” “I… I already wore them outside,” he said, his words tumbling out. “The soles are dirty, and I threw the box away. There’s no way they’d take them back now.” “Oh, well,” I said, drawing out the words. “I guess that’s that. But you really think they’re immature?” “Yeah,” he said, his confidence returning. He even adopted a slightly lecturing tone. “Mia, you shouldn’t buy me things like this anymore. I won’t get many chances to wear them. I’m about to start my internship. If you really want to get me something, you should get me something practical.” “Like what?” “Like a watch, or the newest iPhone. Those things fit my status. They’d look good when I’m meeting clients.” I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. A grad student who hadn’t even graduated was talking to me about status. No wonder he thought two-thousand-dollar sneakers were immature. This was what he was really after. I remembered how, three days ago, when I sent him the screenshot of the online order, all he’d replied was “k.” At the time, I thought he was just busy and didn’t have time to show excitement. Now I realized he was probably too disappointed to even pretend. “You’re right,” I said slowly. “You’re about to start your career. You should have some nice things to show for it.” Dan’s voice immediately brightened. “Right? You think so too? I was actually looking at this Longines watch, it’s about two thousand…” I cut him off. “That’s why I tucked a watch inside the shoebox. A classic Patek Philippe. Didn’t you see it?” The line went completely silent. All I could hear was his breathing, getting faster and faster. After a few seconds, Dan’s voice was barely recognizable. “What?” “A Patek Philippe,” I said, my voice dripping with innocence. “I put it at the very bottom of the box, wrapped in a velvet cloth. You didn’t open it? There was a handwritten letter from me in there, too.” “I…” He was stammering now. “You put a watch in the shoebox?” “Of course,” I sighed. “If I’d known you didn’t like the shoes, I would have just given you the watch by itself. It was so expensive, my heart ached when I bought it.” I heard a dull thud on his end, like a fist hitting a table. It was immediately followed by a girl’s whining voice, hushed and annoyed. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you freaking out…” Dan’s voice was a harsh, angry whisper. “It’s all your fault for wanting that bag! Otherwise I wouldn’t have sold the shoes so fast! Now look what happened! I’m ruined!” The girl huffed. “I told you those were limited editions! You could have waited and the price would’ve gone up. You were the one who insisted on selling them now…” “If I didn’t sell them now, how was I supposed to buy you a birthday present in time?” I pretended I hadn’t heard a thing and asked with concern, “Dan? Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” he said, his voice raw. “Mia, you said… how much was that watch?” “Around fifty-five thousand,” I said nonchalantly. “I was going to get a new car, but then I thought, you need a good watch to make an impression for your internship. So I bought it for you instead.” “Fifty-five… thousand?” His voice was trembling. “Where did you get that kind of money?” “My year-end bonus,” I said, my voice filled with faux-disappointment. “I had a great year at work, my bonus was sixty thousand. I spent almost all of it on you.” “You…” He gasped for air. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I wanted it to be a surprise,” I said. Then, my tone shifted to one of alarm. “Wait, why are you asking? Is the watch gone?” “I… I probably just didn’t notice,” he stammered, completely incoherent. “I haven’t really gone through the box yet…” “Well, you need to find it!” I urged him. “I bought a classic model. Even used, it’s worth over thirty grand! If it’s lost, I’ll… I’ll just die!” As I spoke, I sent him a picture of the watch and a photo of the official receipt from the boutique. “See? This model would look so good on you. It’s a bit mature, I know, but it’s a timepiece you could wear for years.”

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In my past life, I was a lawyer forged in the cutthroat legal market of the East Coast, a grind that stacked more law codes than I could count. I died in a car crash on the way to collect evidence. Just like that. When I opened my eyes again, I was the long-lost daughter of one of Harbor Bay’s wealthiest families. But the millions of lines of case law, the strategies, the sheer knowledge—it was all still perfectly filed in the brain of the person I now was: Caroline Simon. I’d barely woken up in the plush hospital room when my biological mother, Enid Price, walked in with a face colder than granite. “Here is fifty thousand dollars,” she stated, sliding a document across the tray table. “Sign this, and never interrupt our life again.” It was a “Voluntary Waiver of Inheritance and All Related Rights”, placed next to a corporate bank card. The opening act was exactly as I had predicted. Huddled next to Enid, eyes slightly red with a mix of practiced innocence and a flicker of fear, was Isabelle ‘Izzy’ Finch, the girl who had usurped my identity for twenty years. “Sister, please don’t be mad at Mom and Dad,” Izzy whispered, managing a shaky sob. “It’s all my fault. I took your place…” Enid immediately pulled Izzy into a protective embrace, the look she shot me chilling with contempt. “Callie,” she used the nickname I hadn’t given her permission to use. “Sign the paper. Fifty thousand is more than enough for you to live quietly. The Simons are not a family for you to climb into.” Climb into? I almost laughed. The litigation funds in my previous life could have bought and sold this entire suburban hospital. 1 I raised my eyes, calm and level, first meeting Enid Price’s cold stare, then glancing at my silent biological father, Richard Simon, who stood by the window. “Ms. Price, Mr. Simon,” I began, my voice steady, professional. “First, a correction. I did not interrupt your life. You engaged a private agency, confirmed a DNA match, and actively sought me out. Legally, that’s called a reclamation. The initiative was yours. So, let’s dispense with the pretense of me being the unwelcome intruder.” Enid froze, clearly thrown by the articulation and the tone. She must have expected a terrified, grateful waif. “Second, regarding this ‘Waiver.’ Under the principles of Contract Law, specifically regarding duress, unconscionability, and lack of independent counsel—in a case where the waiving party, myself, is a minor without representation and there is a gross disparity of social and economic power…” “This document, which waives significant future rights based on mistake and unfair dealing, would be highly challengeable, and likely ruled voidable, in any competent court of law.” Izzy’s gentle sobbing stopped. She just stared at me. Richard slowly straightened from his slouch, his eyes narrowing with a sharp, calculating focus. “Finally, about the fifty thousand.” I paused, letting my gaze settle on the bank card. “That might cover a down payment in a forgotten corner of the state. But based on Tort Law precedents regarding child support, the past eighteen years of Simon Holdings’ average profits, your family’s documented expenditures, and Izzy’s costs—namely, private academy tuition, overseas enrichment programs, and verifiable luxury purchases…” I leaned forward slightly. “Your outstanding financial obligation to me, the debt for my rearing, is approximately one thousand times this figure. And that doesn’t even begin to calculate pain and suffering or emotional damages.” I gave them a small, sweet, lawyerly smile. “So, no. I can’t sign this agreement.” 2 The agreement was not signed. Richard, looking grim, told me to stay temporarily. Enid treated me like a poorly rendered hologram, and the staff ignored me altogether. I was perfectly happy with the quiet. My days began with pulling Simon Holdings’ public financial reports and shareholder structures. Old habits die hard. They are a reflex. That afternoon, the door opened, and Izzy slipped in, immediately latching onto my arm with false warmth. “Sister, we have a small gathering tonight—a family dinner—to introduce you to a few of Dad’s business associates!” “That’s lovely,” I replied, smiling back, while wondering what poison she was preparing. Just as a maid walked past the door, Izzy raised her voice several decibels. “Oh, Sister, I just realized! Do you have any, you know, heavy pieces of jewelry to go with your dress? Oh, I hope you do!” She paused, as if remembering something crucial. “Actually… Mom has a massive walk-in closet, but she hateswhen anyone goes in uninvited. You absolutely must remember that, okay?” The maid shot a discreet glance our way. There it is. The groundwork. Emphasize my lack of wealth, create the narrative of the poor country girl, and place a ‘treasure’ behind a glass wall, making me the prime suspect. “I don’t have any statement jewelry, but I don’t mind. I’ll go without,” I said, keeping my tone perfectly mild, but inside, the contempt was a cold, bitter knot. The family dinner was held at the most exclusive private club in Harbor Bay. The guests included peripheral Simon family members and several directors from companies with ties to Simon Holdings. Izzy, in a bespoke gown, was the picture of a polished heiress, laughing easily on Richard’s arm. I was seated at a side table, my slender frame draped in a gorgeous, expensive dress Izzy had helpfully picked out for me—a shade of emerald green that was far too grand and looked like I was playing dress-up. Midway through the appetizer course, Izzy let out a sudden, high-pitched gasp. “Mom, didn’t you say you were wearing the diamond bracelet you bought at Christie’s this morning?” Enid touched the plain gold cuff on her wrist and forced a smile. “I swore I saw it this morning, but I couldn’t find it when we left the house…” Izzy immediately looked distraught. “Oh, no! Did it fall off somewhere? That bracelet was Dad’s birthday gift to you. It was worth three million dollars!” A missing piece of jewelry worth that much was not a minor incident. Every eye in the room discreetly swept the table and finally landed on me, the silent girl in the ill-fitting, flashy dress. Richard’s face hardened. “We’ll discuss this back home.” But Izzy spoke up, her voice small and tentative. “Dad, Mom, I suddenly remembered… this afternoon, only Sister went up to the third floor…” She looked at me, her face a perfect mask of regret. “Could it be that Sister just didn’t have a nice enough piece for her gown…” The private dining room went instantly silent. Enid exploded. Her voice was sharp, a pure shriek of accusation. “Callie Simon! Did you take it?! Answer me!” A wave of low murmuring went through the guests. A few directors watched me with eyes as sharp as knives. I picked up my napkin, slowly wiped my mouth, and stood up under the concentrated gaze of the entire room. “Everyone,” I said, my voice quiet, but cutting through the silence like glass. “First, as per the state’s criminal code, specifically relating to Defamation and Criminal Slander, to fabricate facts with the intent to subject a person to criminal investigation, particularly involving a major felony, is punishable by imprisonment.” The initial look of scorn on the guests’ faces faltered. They had not expected a law lecture. “You are currently accusing me of the theft of property valued at several million dollars. In this state, that meets the threshold for Grand Theft in the First Degree, a serious felony with a potential sentence of ten years or more.” Izzy’s face went pale, but she still forced a smile. “Sister! What are you saying? You’re scaring everyone! I only asked if you were worried; I never said you took it…” “This afternoon, you deliberately highlighted my lack of jewelry in front of the staff, intentionally informed me the jewelry was in your mother’s closet, and now, at a public dinner, you are linking the missing item to me and my brief presence on the third floor. That constitutes a clear and directed campaign of slander.” I cut her off. I pulled out my phone and lit up the screen. “Second, regarding my movements this afternoon.” I pulled up a video file and displayed it for the room. “Anticipating that my ‘sensitive’ status might lead to misunderstandings, I specifically recorded an uninterrupted, time-stamped video from 3:20 PM to 4:00 PM, using my phone’s front-facing camera, within the privacy of my second-floor guest room. During this entire time, I did not leave the room for a single step.” I hit the play button. The fast-forwarded footage clearly showed me sitting at a small desk near the window, reading a book, my body and the room’s backdrop always visible. “This video has been encrypted and simultaneously uploaded to an accredited national electronic evidence preservation platform. It can be verified and authenticated at any time.” I pocketed the phone, my gaze moving from Izzy’s dramatically changing expression to Enid’s furious, trapped face, and finally to Richard Simon. “Mr. Simon, my video is conclusive. I have a confirmed alibi for the entire duration of the purported diamond bracelet theft.” The room was stunned. “Third,” I said, giving them no time to recover, locking my eyes on Izzy. “Ms. Finch, you proceeded with this suggestive accusation in a public setting, despite knowing that I have an air-tight alibi. Your subjective malice is evident. Given that this action has caused substantial damage to my reputation and sought to plunge me into serious criminal risk, I reserve all rights to pursue legal action against you.” “If you do not immediately and publicly retract your statement and clarify the situation, I will file a police report for defamation and a private criminal complaint for slander right now.” 3 Dead silence fell over the private room. The directors’ expressions had become openly amused. The peripheral family members exchanged nervous glances. Richard Simon’s face was dark, furious. The perpetrator, Izzy, was swaying, every ounce of blood drained from her face. “Nonsense!” Richard slammed his hand on the table. “A bracelet is not worth this drama! A housekeeper must have misplaced it! Apologize to Callie, now!” Enid’s mouth opened and closed, unable to form words. Izzy, terrified, burst into genuine tears. “I—I’m sorry, Sister! I was just so worried about Mom. I spoke out of turn…” “I heard your apology,” I said, looking at her coldly. “But I don’t accept it.” “Given the severity of this incident, a verbal apology is insufficient to guarantee my safety. I require that, from this moment forward, no one be allowed into my room for any reason without my explicit permission.” “Furthermore, I expect Mr. Simon to draft a written guarantee tonight, promising that no similar attempt at slander or framing will occur again. Otherwise, I will consider this the Simon family condoning libel and will exercise all legal means for my protection.” Richard’s forehead veins pulsed with rage. But he was caught. In front of witnesses, and with Izzy having been demonstrably caught lying. He was forced to swallow his anger. “Fine,” he ground out. “It will be done. Are you satisfied?” I gave a slight nod and returned to my seat. The dinner continued, but the atmosphere was irreparably broken. No one dared to look at me with suspicion again. Within days, the story—my poise under pressure, the air-tight alibi, the swift legal counter—spread through the city’s upper echelon. Several major corporate figures with connections to Simon Holdings began showing interest in me. At subsequent business dinners, they deliberately instructed Richard to bring me along, introducing me to their nephews and protégés. Izzy’s complexion grew visibly paler with each passing week. Returning from one such dinner, Izzy cornered me on the staircase landing. Her smile was sickeningly sweet, but her voice was a malicious whisper. “Sister, you’ve become Dad’s favorite prop lately. So high and mighty.” “Just remember, a sparrow wearing a few peacock feathers is still just a sparrow! The higher you climb, the harder you fall!” I looked into the undisguised hatred in her eyes, and my lips curved into a slow, cold smile. “Is that so? At least I’m not someone else. It’s a lot better than being so unqualified that you have to stand on stolen ground, desperate to push others into the abyss. How pathetic is that?” Izzy’s smile froze. “Callie Simon! What did you say? Say that again!” I simply walked past her and up the stairs, without another word. A few weeks later, it was the annual Shaw Group gala, an event where every significant name in Harbor Bay society was present. The Simon family was invited. During the evening, I found myself pressed into drinking more wine than I should have. Slipping away to the restroom during a brief lull, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and the world began to spin. The next thing I knew, I collapsed to the floor. 4 I don’t know how much time passed before my consciousness slowly returned. I sat up abruptly. I was wearing nothing but a thin, silk nightgown. Not the floor-length gown I had worn to the gala! My heart clenched. A bolt of icy dread shot through my limbs. “Awake?” A low, cool male voice came from the other side of the room. By the floor-to-ceiling window, Damon Shaw, wearing a dark silk dressing gown, was pouring water. He turned, his perfectly sculpted features devoid of warmth, expressing only the profound annoyance of a man whose privacy had been violated. “Where is this? How did I get here?” “That is the question I should be asking you.” Damon placed the glass down, a short, dismissive scoff escaping him. “Ms. Simon, appearing in my guest suite bed at midnight in a silk slip? Is this the kind of social education the Simons now provide?” He clearly believed I had engineered this, using the crudest means possible to ‘climb the ladder.’ Furious shame and cold realization flooded me, but I forced the lawyer’s logic and composure to the front of my mind. This was a setup. A toxic, catastrophic scheme designed to utterly destroy my reputation and ensure Richard threw me out. Izzy didn’t just want to ruin my name—she wanted me to permanently alienate Damon Shaw, the one man in Harbor Bay you absolutely could not afford to offend. “Mr. Shaw,” I made myself speak slowly, evenly. “I was drugged or struck from behind. Before I lost consciousness, I was near the second-floor powder room, wearing a full gown, not this nightgown.” Damon’s brow slightly arched, but he remained silent, unconvinced. “First,” I quickly scanned the room. “If I intended to seduce you, I would have at least targeted your private Master Suite. Not a common-area guest room. It is illogical—I had no way of knowing you would be here.” “Second,” I lifted the corner of the sheet, exposing my lower leg and ankle. “I can feel a dull, throbbing pain at the back of my neck, consistent with a blunt force impact. More importantly, my outer calf has a small, light scuff mark and trace of dirt. This is consistent with being dragged while unconscious. If I had walked here myself, barefoot or otherwise, this injury wouldn’t exist.” Damon’s gaze followed my gesture, briefly lingering on the small red mark on my leg. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Third, and most crucial,” I took a deep breath, throwing out the ultimate challenge. “Mr. Shaw, if I truly had the skill to evade all surveillance, drug myself, change into a slip, and silently slip into your room—why would I use such an easily exposed, ridiculous maneuver? Why wouldn’t I simply have slipped something into your drink?” “To attempt such a flawed, transparent scheme is to beg for self-destruction. And I am not suicidal.” The layer of frost on Damon’s face seemed to crack. He began to truly see me, re-evaluating the scene. After a long moment, he tossed a dark, heavy men’s blazer onto the bed, silently indicating I should put it on. “You’re the daughter the Simons recently found, the one from the Midwest?” His voice softened fractionally, though his expression remained severe. “Intriguing.” Just then, a wave of hurried footsteps echoed outside the door. Then came Izzy’s voice, a perfect imitation of worried panic. “Dad, Mom, do you think Sister drank too much and got confused? I think I saw her heading this way…” “Oh, my God! I think she went into this room!” The words were barely out before the door was violently thrown open from the outside!

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The year-end review was a formality for me. My performance was exemplary, and the promotion to Department Director was sealed. Then, my boyfriend reported me on the spot. He accused me of misappropriating company funds for personal shopping during an overseas business trip. His proof? A video he’d originally filmed for my professional vlog. The footage clearly showed me at a high-end vintage market in Barcelona, spending exactly one hundred thousand dollars on a handful of brittle, aged letters. “Samantha, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ringing with fake righteousness. “Even though you’re my girlfriend, I can’t in good conscience cover this up. You don’t deserve the Director position. Madison is far more qualified.” Madison Stone, my biggest internal rival, turned to me, her face contorted in manufactured outrage. “Samantha Rory, you spent that kind of money on old paper? This is money laundering!” Our senior leadership immediately convened an investigative committee. They looked at me with varying degrees of disappointment and suspicion. I remained still, outwardly calm, though rage was already churning in my stomach. They called them “old paper.” They had no idea. Those documents were classified WWII-era letters detailing unprosecuted war crimes—a goldmine for an international historical justice foundation. The commendation from the Department of National Security for securing them was already in the pipeline. 1 Mr. Wallace, the Executive Vice President, watched the video and frowned. “Samantha, this is extremely serious. You need to explain yourself.” I stared at Blake Harrington, utterly blindsided. I still couldn’t believe he would throw me under a bus—and all for Madison. Just last night, he’d held me close, trying to soothe me out of my career drive. “Samantha, honey, why don’t you drop the competition with Madison? The Director role is too much stress. It’s a grind.” “Besides,” he’d continued, condescendingly, “when we get married, you’ll want to prioritize family and kids. Just take a low-stress role. You know I can take care of us.” I’d been repulsed. “The future is the future, Blake. I’ve worked too hard to give up now. Don’t bring that up again.” He’d gone quiet, his face tight. Later, in the dead of the night, I’d woken up and found his side of the bed empty. I’d assumed he was just dealing with a last-minute work emergency in his study and had gone back to sleep. Now, I knew. He had been preparing my public execution. I took a deep breath, smothering the urge to lunge across the table at him, and addressed Wallace. “Sir, that’s not the full story. I encountered an urgent, time-sensitive situation abroad. I didn’t have immediate access to my personal accounts, so I had to temporarily use company funds. I reimbursed the full amount the moment I returned.” I pressed the point. “Before using it, I notified Gary Powell in Accounting. It was a verbal pre-approval, but you can confirm the immediate repayment with him.” Wallace, who usually valued my work ethic, didn’t want to see me fall on a fundamental ethics violation. He immediately instructed his secretary. “Ms. Turner, please verify the financials right now. Then bring Gary Powell in here.” “Right away, sir.” Moments later, Ms. Turner returned with Gary, the head of Accounting. Gary was a naturally shifty man, good at sniffing out the safest path. He scanned the room, smiled nervously, and spoke. “I heard the summary from Ms. Turner,” he chirped. “Ms. Rory’s account is perfectly balanced. She repaid the full amount immediately upon her return. My ledger is crystal clear.” Madison, however, wasn’t done. Without even glancing at the ledger, she cornered him. “Gary, we all trust your accounting. But Samantha said she got your verbal pre-approval before spending the $100,000. Do you recall that conversation?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “One hundred thousand dollars—is that an amount you can casually approve with just a sentence?” Gary’s eyes darted away. He slapped his forehead dramatically. “Oh, man, I truly can’t recall! That day, I was running a high fever, a real flu. I vaguely remember taking a call from Samantha, but honestly, I completely forgot what we discussed.” He turned to me, his tone apologetic but firm. “Samantha, do you have a recording, or any proof to back that up?” I understood. Gary was a master of self-preservation. He would never risk his job to cover my rear. He was giving me an out, but I hadn’t recorded the rushed call. My face went pale. “I… I don’t have proof.” “But the item I bought was critically important. It was an emergency situation, and I fixed the financial side immediately. No damage was done to the company’s bottom line!” Blake and Madison exchanged a look of smug victory. Blake leaned forward, his voice dripping with moral superiority. “You’re still trying to wriggle out of it? How important can a few scraps of old paper be? And just because you paid it back doesn’t erase the violation, Samantha. Rules are rules. If everyone bypassed protocol like this, the entire firm would fall into chaos.” He delivered the final blow. “I recommend severe disciplinary action against Samantha as a warning to others. And the Director position must go to Madison.” 2 Wallace considered this for a moment and nodded. “Blake has a point. Samantha, you’ll go home, take a period of leave, and publicly apologize to the department for the ethics violation.” He sighed, the disappointment evident. “The Department Director position will be filled by Madison Stone.” Madison beamed instantly. “Thank you, Mr. Wallace! I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll lead by example.” She shot me a look, a victorious, silent smirk of pure malice. Next to her, Blake was gazing at Madison with such genuine warmth and pride. It hit me like a shot of cheap tequila. This wasn’t just about a promotion. This was about her. Blake hadn’t just met his college acquaintance; he had meticulously planned to put her in my spot. Flashes of the past few months played out in my mind: the hickeys Madison hadn’t bothered to cover around me, the scent of a new, unfamiliar cologne on Blake’s shirts, their suspiciously synced travel schedules. Even now, Madison was wearing a delicate silver necklace I’d seen sitting in Blake’s Amazon cart weeks ago. They had been playing me for a fool. My original plan was to let the National Security team complete their verification of the letters. Once the historical significance was confirmed, the commendation would clear everything up. But the sheer audacity, the treacherous, hateful look on their faces—it broke my composure. I am many things, but a quiet victim is not one of them. “Madison can have the job over my dead body,” I stated, my voice dangerously level. “She does not have the competence.” I unleashed my own list. “Last September, she carelessly lost the finalized contract for the Windsor account. I spent two weeks begging and negotiating to salvage that mess for her.” “In June, she took unauthorized photos in the secure R&D lab and posted them on her social media, which I discovered and forced her to delete immediately.” “In February, she—” I listed every screw-up, every professional disaster. It wasn’t because I’d been tracking her; it was because Blake had begged me every time to cover for his “innocent student friend.” I’d been naive enough to take Madison under my wing, treating her as a friend and a mentee, patiently teaching her the unspoken rules of the firm, even knowing she was my competitor. I had never sabotaged her. My reward? A knife in the back. Madison immediately panicked under the scrutiny of the senior leadership. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “Samantha, shut up! Those are lies! I never did any of that!” “I have the receipts, Madison,” I countered coolly. “Enough, Samantha!” Blake roared, his face mottled with fury. “Are you so determined to destroy her? You’re just jealous because she’s younger, prettier, and has a better degree than you! This is your mistake—own it, don’t try to slander her!” I fixed him with a cold stare. I let out a low, bitter laugh. “Oh, Blake. I was so focused on her, I forgot to save some vitriol for you. You cheated on me, your fiancée, with this snake, and then tried to use corporate espionage to get her promoted? I’m going to make sure everyone in this office knows the truth. Let’s see how long your ‘upright’ reputation lasts then.” Blake was a creature of reputation. The truth of the affair, exposed publicly, enraged him more than the job loss. His false mask completely shattered. “I’m a man of integrity! You won’t get away with this slander, Samantha! Are you forcing me to expose your real crimes?!” Expose me? I raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Blake, what exactly do you think you’re going to expose?” His face was shadowed, his jaw clenched, and his voice dropped to a menacing, desperate whisper. “I suspect Samantha Rory is a foreign agent committing economic espionage!” 3 “What?” “That’s impossible!” Blake’s accusation stunned the room into a gasping silence, myself included. Wallace’s expression turned deeply serious. He leaned across the table. “Blake, this is not a personal issue. You cannot throw around the word ‘agent’ without proof. That’s a charge of treason.” “I have proof,” Blake insisted. “Look.” He pulled up the video feed, enlarging the image of the aged letters until the script was clearly visible. It was archaic Japanese script. “Everyone can see the language. If Samantha isn’t a foreign agent, why would she spend a hundred thousand dollars on these old Japanese letters and documents?” He wasn’t finished. “I saw with my own eyes how valuable they were to her. She kept them secured in a small safe, even when she was in the shower. Who was she hiding them from? She was hiding her true identity!” His tone was sharp and conviction was heavy, and now everyone in the room looked at me with open suspicion. This was ludicrous. “You see an image, you guess the language, and you leap to ‘economic espionage’? Blake, you are unhinged!” I countered. “Those documents are incredibly important, but not just to me. They are vital to international historical justice. I had a reason.” Madison scoffed. “Please, Samantha. You always talk big. If you’re so innocent, prove it. Bring those ‘important’ letters in right now. We’ll find someone who can translate them for us.” Wallace’s face was dark. His remaining trust in me had evaporated. “Samantha, bring the documents. If they contain mundane information, your innocence is proven. But if they contain classified foreign or military intelligence, as Blake suggests, I will personally turn you over to Homeland Security.” But the documents—the WWII documents proving war crimes—had already been submitted to the National Security team. They were conducting a critical, time-sensitive verification, and they had specifically instructed me to maintain absolute secrecy about their contents. I could not speak. My silence confirmed their suspicions. Blake acted the part of the grieving patriot. “Samantha, please don’t blame me for reporting you. I’m doing this for our country. Frankly, I’ve been suspicious for a while—your insistence on traveling to certain countries last year, your interest in foreign-language media…” He lowered his voice. “It’s not too late to confess. I’ll even speak to the authorities on your behalf.” I stared at his pathetic performance and laughed again, a harsh, humorless sound. “Blake, you are so desperate to get Madison that promotion, you’ve concocted this insane lie. I promise you, I will sue you for every dime you have for slander and defamation.” Ignoring him, I looked back at Wallace. “Sir, I have reasons I absolutely cannot disclose, but by tomorrow, everything will be clear. I am innocent.” Wallace was done. He sighed, shaking his head. “Samantha, if you won’t talk, then you can speak to the police when they arrive.” He turned and walked out, his disappointment a palpable weight in the room. While we waited, Madison did the unthinkable. She pulled out her phone and started an Instagram Live, zooming in on the enlarged image of the letters on the screen. “Everyone look! This woman is a spy! A foreign agent! These are the Japanese letters she bought for one hundred thousand dollars! We caught her red-handed!” “She pretended to be an honest patriot, but she’s nothing but a traitorous criminal!” Her words instantly ignited a firestorm in the comments. The accusation of treason is explosive in the US context. The stream had thousands of views instantly. They were cursing me, and worse, cursing my elderly parents. My stomach dropped. I had only been waiting for the police to clear my name, but this was a catastrophe. My parents were both elderly, Dad with high blood pressure and a fragile heart. The stress could kill him. 4 Seized by panic, I lunged forward, grabbing Madison’s hair and knocking her phone away. “Madison, those documents cannot be leaked! You have no right to film me! You’re going to hurt my parents!” Blake grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arm tightly around my neck, forcing me to release Madison. He then delivered a hard, vicious slap across my face that made my eyes water. “This is your fault, Samantha! Don’t you dare lay a hand on Madison! If you hurt her, I swear I’ll make you regret it!” Madison stumbled into Blake’s embrace, looking up at him with a faux-vulnerable expression while her eyes, fixed on me, were pure triumph. She cooed, “Thank you, Blake. Samantha always bullies me and steals my credit. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “Don’t worry, Maddie. I’ll always protect you. This venomous woman will get what she deserves.” I touched the corner of my mouth, tasting blood. The camera in the office would have caught that slap—he’d pay for that later. But right now, my priority was my parents. I fumbled for my phone and frantically called my mother. Finally, the video call connected. I yelled into the receiver. “Mom! You and Dad need to stay inside today! Don’t open the door for anyone!” Mom’s voice was confused. “Why, honey? What’s going on?” Just then, a loud, violent series of bangs against their front door nearly deafened me. I screamed, “Mom, don’t open it! DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!” But my father, coming out of the kitchen, had already reached the doorknob. He opened it. A dozen angry, frantic people surged into the house. They pointed at my parents and screamed. “Samantha Rory is a traitor! Her parents are traitors! You animals, selling out your own country!” My father, who had always been so proud of me, immediately tried to fight back. “You’re lying! My daughter is an executive! She is dedicated and honest! She would never betray her country!” My mother shouted, “Don’t you insult my daughter! Get out of our house!” But the mob wouldn’t listen. They shoved my parents to the floor and began yelling and smashing things. My parents tried to stop them but were no match for the strong young crowd. They were pushed down again and again. Suddenly, Dad’s face went white. He clutched his chest, struggling to breathe. Mom rushed to him, trying to soothe him. His heart. He was having an attack. I had to get him to a hospital now. I stood up and bolted toward the door, but Blake was there instantly, blocking my path. “Let me go! My father is having a medical emergency! I need to save him! Blake, did you forget everything my dad did for your career? If you have an ounce of decency, you won’t stop me!” “No! That’s irrelevant! Samantha, you have to wait for the police. You can’t leave!” Watching my father’s ashen face in the video feed, I was frantic. I fought Blake, yanked my arm free, and my trembling fingers punched 9-1-1. The second the operator answered, Madison grabbed my phone and smashed it onto the floor. She hissed, “Calling anyone won’t help you now! Even if the sky falls, you are going to stay here and wait for your arrest!” I glared at her and the wall that Blake had become, my teeth grinding with helpless fury. But I had to be rational. My parents were in danger. When they weren’t looking, I sprinted toward the nearest window. It was the second floor, but I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself out, landing hard on the pavement. A white-hot spike of pain shot through my ankle. Madison appeared at the window above, pointing down at me. “She’s running! She’s a spy! Don’t let her get away!” Ignoring the screaming pain in my twisted ankle, I hobbled to the curb and hailed a taxi. Just as I reached the door, several local police officers swarmed me, slamming me face-down on the ground. The cold metal of handcuffs clicked onto my wrists. Blake and Madison rushed down the stairs, their faces alight with satisfaction. “Trying to run, Samantha? You do have something to hide! Let’s see you talk your way out of this!” I looked up at them, my eyes burning with tears and hatred. “If anything happens to my parents, I promise you, I will never forgive you!” Just then, the scene exploded. A convoy of over a dozen black, unmarked SUVs and official government vehicles roared up and surrounded the area. Dozens of agents, wearing tactical gear, emerged and strode toward us. Madison looked at the massive show of force and cackled with pure malice. “Even if your parents die, Samantha, they got what they deserved! Look at this, they sent half the government to catch you! Enjoy your cell!” Before her smile could set, a powerful, authoritative voice cut through the chaos. “Who said we’re here to arrest Samantha Rory?”

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