I tailed Knox Whitmore for two days. One minute I was invisible. The next, I was t!ed to his b.ed, trembling, while he sneered down at me like I was garbage. "Don't stick me with this mouse. Give her to my brother." Seven years ago, I borrowed ten th0us4#&nd from him. Dumped his backpack in a sewer. Faked my death and vanished. He doesn't remember me. The car accident wiped me clean from his head. But I remember everything. The way he yanked my hair. Tossed my glasses. Called me "little mouse" while he watched me beg for his scraps. Now he's handing me over to his brother like a gift. I should run. I should be terrified. But then his cold eyes catch mine. He rips my glasses off again. Forces my chin up until I have no choice but to meet his gaze. And I see it. That flicker. That same strange pause from years ago when he realized I wasn't as ug1#&y as he thought. He doesn't know who I am. But his b0dy remembers. Before I faked my death, I decided to get even with the arrogant elites at school. I borrowed ten th0usand d0!lars from each of them. Seven years passed. The dust settled. They'd all climbed to the top. Power. m0ney. The whole world in their hands. Some even had fiancées now. They'd probably forgotten I ever existed. So I slipped back quietly to finish my final task: [Bitter Gaze of the Doomed Side Character] Day two of tailing my target, I got snatched and tied to one of their beds. I was shaking like a leaf. He stared down at me, cold and unrecognizing. "Don't stick me with this kind of mouse. Give her to my brother. Isn't she his type? He's already got a whole collection of girls like this." ... Knox Whitmore stood by the bed, phone pressed to his ear, his tone dripping with indifference. His gaze swept over me, cold and unfamiliar. I was in a plain long-sleeve shirt and black pants, black-framed glasses sitting on my nose. The most ordinary look possible. Silently trailing him. Watching him from the shadows. The System's voice had barely faded from my head. 【Task one of the Bitter Gaze of the Doomed Side Character. Complete.】 And I got snatched up and dumped onto this soft mattress. Knox tore into whoever was on the other end of the line. "You sent me someone you couldn't pick out of a crowd?" His face darkened. Long fingers moved to untie me. Then whoever was on the phone said something. Knox froze. His deep eyes narrowed, fixing on me. "Following me?" He tapped the speakerphone button. A shaky voice spilled out. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore. I observed this girl tailing you. I brought her here so you could deal with her yourself." Knox stopped untying me halfway. And tied me right back up. Someone handed him my file. He skimmed it, then tossed it aside without a second glance. Clicked his tongue. "Same high school as me." "You—you don't recognize me?" I asked, barely getting the words out. Knox looked at me like I'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. A scoff ripped out of him. "Are you someone important? Should I know you?" I froze. Seven years. Maybe he'd had too many girls around him. Maybe my face meant nothing anymore. But there was no way he could see my name, know we went to the same private high school, and have zero reaction. Because Knox was the worst of them back then. He made me his personal errand girl. His little shadow. He'd dump my breakfast straight into the tr@sh. Then he'd force me to call him some "master" and beg him to let me eat. Only then would he lazily toss me his leftovers. "Just like a little mouse." That was what he'd always say, right before pinching my cheeks as I chewed. ... Knox hated me the second he saw me. If he was the reckless, arrogant heir, I was the invisible girl locked in her own world, too quiet to string a sentence together. Then one day, I stepped on his watch. It had fallen on the floor. I panicked. Couldn't even look at him. Didn't need to think twice—I knew it was worth a fortune. His smile was razor-thin. He crooked a finger at me. "Rooftop. Little mouse." That evening. He plucked the black glasses off my face and tossed them aside like garbage. Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair. My thick bangs got swept up along with it. He paused. The cold disgust on his face flickered into something else. His brow arched. His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate. "Didn't expect that. You're actually not bad-looking. So why act like a mouse? Can't even look me in the eye." I shrank back. Said to myself. I never used to know why I was like this either. But then the System showed up and told me I was the pathetic, dark-minded side character in some glossy romance novel. My whole purpose was to be invisible and miserable—just a shadow to make the male leads look more impressive, and the female lead shine brighter. So I just accepted it. Knox waited for me to say something. I couldn't spit out a single word. Impatient, he grabbed my face and squeezed hard. But he didn't punish me. Didn't make me pay for the watch. He made me his lackey. His personal errand girl. His toy. Until I borrowed ten th0usand d0!lars from him. Sneakily dumped his backpack into a sewer. And vanished. "I got into a car accident two years ago," Knox said, perfectly matter-of-fact. "Forgot a lot of things. But—" He let out a dry laugh. "Don't tell me. You're some ex-girlfriend from before I lost my memory?" "No, no, no." I shook my head fast. The second I realized he'd actually forgotten, a quiet rush of relief hit me. I forced a smile. "Sorry. I won't follow you anymore." He stared down at me. I couldn't tell if he bought it. Then, just like he used to. He lazily pulled off my black glasses. Fingers gripped my chin and forced my head up. I still didn't meet his eyes. My lashes trembled. "I hate mice," Knox said, a smirk in his voice. "But my brother loves them." "No!" The word ripped out of me as my eyes snapped up. Knox had lost his memory from the crash. But his brother? No way. I knew exactly what his brother was capable of. "You don't get a choice." Knox's voice was ice. Knox dragged me straight back to his place. I fought him the whole way there. Didn't matter. He never untied me. My struggling got me nowhere. Knox's mouth curled. He clamped a hand down on my thrashing legs. "Stop pretending. Weren't you the one following me? Too bad. You're not my type. But my brother got a thing for girls like you. Land him, and at least your effort won't be wasted." I stayed silent. Refused to engage. Silently, I asked the System, 【What are my chances of slipping away?】 The System sounded exasperated. 【You've got a gift-wrapped opportunity, and you want to run? Then how exactly do you plan to finish the 'Bitter Gaze' task?】 【The whole reason you were tailing Knox is that he's always at racetracks and bars. Think his elder brother Silas is the same?】 It clicked. Good point. But I was still scared. I still owed them m0ney. The System tried again. 【That amount is pocket change. Silas is way too busy, and you're way too ordinary. There's no chance he'd even remember you.】 I agreed. The System's reassurances calmed me down a little. It encouraged me. 【Good luck.】 During the years I'd been gone, the System told me the plot had gone off the rails. The male leads never met the female lead. She'd gone abroad to study and built her own career. But my task stayed the same. Thank God. I just wanted my payout. ... For the next few days, Knox was nowhere to be seen. He kept me locked up in that massive mansion. Sure, it was basically imprisonment. But there was a housekeeper, a cook, a full staff. I ate, I slept, I ate again. Then, a week later. A swarm of people flooded the estate. Decorations everywhere. I leaned over my bedroom balcony, staring down. 【It's Silas' birthday.】 The System piped up. 【If I recall correctly, before you faked your death, he made you prepare an elaborate gift for him every single birthday.】 Translation: You seriously forgot his birthday? I muttered, 【He wasn't the only one demanding gifts. There were two others. And I had no m0ney.】 【Didn't they give you m0ney?】 I said, very seriously, 【If they gave it to me, it's mine. What does that have to do with their birthday presents?】 【You got a point.】 The mansion was decked out, dripping with opulence. Champagne towers everywhere. The whole place hummed with that over-the-top, extravagant birthday energy. That night. Designer suits and gowns poured through the doors. I could hear the noise from all the way up on the third floor. Knox came back. He threw a dress at me. Moonlight white. Short. Not flashy—more understated and fresh. Except for the massive bow right at the cutout on the waist. I shook my head. "Not wearing it." Even with amnesia, Knox hadn't changed one bit. Back in school, he'd pulled every trick to get me into a short skirt. Same thing now. Knox's eyelids lifted. "Don't tell me you plan on going downstairs in that." What was wrong with that? A simple white tee. Relaxed black pants. I mumbled, "I could just not go down." Knox let out a humorless laugh. "Then what did I keep you here for?" He dragged me onto the balcony. J3rked his chin toward the buzzing garden below. "Everyone else is in evening gowns. You think you're special? Not that putting one on would make you look better than any of them." I cu/t him off. "I didn't ask to be here." Just then, a wave of noise rose from below. Enthusiastic greetings. Cheers. The guest of honor had arrived. I spotted the man stepping out of the car instantly. Sharp, tailored suit. Arm linked with a girl who looked soft and demure. She wore this timid little expression, like she'd never seen anything like this before. Seven years ago, Silas had still carried traces of boyish detachment, cold and restrained. Now, he was fully grown. All controlled power. Effortless authority. A face that gave nothing away. Knox watched the scene below and clicked his tongue. "My brother's here. I've got to go see to him." He gave a lazy shrug. "Suit yourself." He pinched my cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe he likes them this frumpy." I blinked. Still processing his words as he pushed the door open to leave. He clearly assumed I wouldn't dare go downstairs—or try to run. "Wait here like a good girl," Knox said, easy and unhurried. "And lose the sour face. If my brother takes an interest, you could make serious cash. If not? You're free. I'll throw in some m0ney myself. How's that?" I frowned. "He already has a date tonight." "Oh." Knox didn't care. "He swaps them out constantly." The door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway. I stood there, the night breeze brushing past me. Still dazed, I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Silas, down below, tilted his head slightly. His gaze was about to sweep this way. I dropped down instantly. Crouched low. Slowly crawled back into the room. I'd done a lot of thinking these past few days. Sure, the odds of Silas remembering me were slim. But seven years ago, the guy was a genius with a photographic memory. And a grudge. These elite types weren't good people. If there was even a one percent chance of being recognized, I couldn't take it. And Knox? He could recover his memories any day. That was even worse. Anyway, what I needed to do was just that "bitter gaze" thing. I'd apply for a janitor job at Silas's company. Show up every day in full disguise, cleaning floors. Plenty of chances to stare at him from the shadows. The party downstairs kicked off. Glasses clinked. Everyone mingled. I slipped out the door as quietly as possible. And immediately ran into a group headed up the hallway, all polished outfits and designer accessories. They were chatting. "Isn't the lounge on the third floor?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. They noticed me too. At the front stood the girl who'd been clinging to Silas's arm earlier. She blinked at me. "You are...?" I pressed my lips together. "I'm—uh. The housekeeper's daughter. Yeah. That." Someone else immediately challenged it. "Why would the housekeeper's daughter be up here?" The girl's expression shifted. So did everyone else's. Disgust crept into their eyes. "You're some staff member's kid, sneaking around to steal, aren't you? I'm going to tell Mr. Whitmore right now." Someone else nodded, voice dripping with contempt. "Yeah. She's clearly guilty of something." My eyes went wide. "Wait!" The girl was already turning toward the stairs, firm. "It's Mr. Whitmore's birthday. I won't let any theft happen tonight." "I came here with Knox!" I blurted it out in sheer desperation. She stopped. Turned back slowly. Looked me up and down, disbelief written all over her face. "You? With him? How is that possible?" The way she scanned me now was nothing like the timid little act she'd been putting on beside Silas. "What's all this?" A lazy voice cu/t through the tension. Everyone turned. Knox raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised by the scene in front of him. The girl jumped in immediately. "We were looking for the lounge. Then we ran into her, sneaking around the hallway. I assumed she was a thief. I was about to go inform Silas... but she claims she's here with you." Seeing Knox, I exhaled in relief. He could vouch for me. I wasn't a thief. But the air went weirdly silent. After a beat, Knox's mouth curled coldly. "You're saying you found her in the hallway." The girl nodded frantically. "Acting very suspicious. Like she'd just stolen something and was about to bolt." I was at a loss for words. "Bolt?" Knox repeated the word, smile razor-sharp. A bad feeling hit me hard. Sure enough, his tone went flat. "She's a thief." The girl lit up at his confirmation. Then sh0t me a venomous glare. "Not just a thief. A liar, too. I'm telling Silas right now. He'll handle you." Her little leather shoes clicked down the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom, her voice had turned soft and sweet again. "Mr. Silas Whitmore!" I stood there, frozen. Ice in my veins. I looked at Knox, completely thrown. He leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed. His deep eyes pinned me down. Cold. Distant. Then came steady footsteps. Getting closer. The girl was already tattling, voice gentle. "Silas, it's a good thing I noticed her snooping around upstairs. She even lied and said Knox brought her here." I dropped my gaze, despair swallowing me whole. My he@rt s1@mmed against my ribs, frantic. Then my vision went black. The world spun. Just before I fully slipped away, I felt a pair of warm arms catch me.
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Second I got assaulted, I called the cops. But the lawyer defending that piece of sh!t? My husband, Sullivan Evans. Trial started and he played a video of me. "So, Ms. Croft—no bra that night, red dress slit up to here. You telling me you weren't trying to get my client's attention?" "You know you can't handle your liquor. But you knocked back ten shots anyway. That sound right to you?" "You slept around so much you can't even have kids now. So what is this—you're gonna frame some innocent twenty-year-old kid to feel better about yourself?" The whole courtroom lost it. In the gallery, Sullivan's first love— Celine Whitmore—was sobbing. "Vivian, Eden's my baby brother! I know you hate me. But you stripped down, threw yourself at him, then screamed violate? That's disgusting." Sullivan's hand went to her shoulder. Soft. Protective. I sat in that witness stand. Couldn't feel my hands. Seven years ago he stood in a courtroom and said: "SO A WOMAN DRINKS, WEARS A DRESS, STAYS OUT LATE—AND SHE DESERVES TO GET RAPED?" He was defending me then. Now? He used those same words to destroy me. I called the cops immediately after I was assaulted. Yet on the day of the trial, the man standing in court to defend my assailant was my husband, Sullivan Evans. He was the most feared criminal defense lawyer in the state. The moment court opened, he played a video. The footage was vile and deeply humiliating. Every gaze in the courtroom pierced me like a sharp needle. He didn't even look at me when he spoke. "Ms. Croft, on the night in question, did you intentionally wear an unlined crimson slip dress with a plunging neckline and a high thigh slit, with the sole intent of seducing my client?" "Did you knowingly drink ten shots of top-shelf whiskey, despite knowing your own tolerance?" "And is it true that your infertility stemming from a history of indiscriminate relationships has left you emotionally unhinged—so much so that you decided to ruin a twenty-year-old college boy's future with a false rape accusation?" A storm of uproar swept through the gallery. In the front row, Sullivan's first love, Celine Whitmore, sat crying. Her eyes were rimmed red, glistening with delicate, fragile tears. Like I was the one who'd hurt her. "Vivian, Eden is my brother! I know you're jealous of me, but you cannot throw yourself at him out of spite, then falsely claim you were raped!" Sullivan pressed a hand to her trembling shoulder. I sat in the witness box, ice-cold. Seven years ago, he'd asked the same kind of question, but for my sake. "Does a woman deserve to be assaulted merely for drinking alcohol, wearing a dress, and walking alone at night?" He once spoke those words to defend me; now he has honed them into a sharp blade, pointed straight at my throat. ... The courtroom monitor flared to life, and a cold dread saturated my veins. It’s the hotel hallway footage. Frozen frame. There I was. Crimson dress, skin bare, stumbling. Half my weight slumped against Eden Whitmore's body. From that angle, my hand looked like it was clinging to his shoulder. A collective gasp rippled across the audience gallery. Sullivan pointed to the screen. "Notice, ladies and gentlemen. Ms. Croft never screamed. Her body moved with my client's." "This is not resistance. This is a deliberate performance." My throat tightened shut, a metallic taste of blood flooding my tongue from grinding my teeth in agony. "I wasn't! I was dru//gged. I was completely incapacitated and unable to speak a word!" "I said no." Sullivan finally looked at me, then quickly looked away. His voice went arctic, like he was choking something back. "dru//gged?" "Ms. Croft, a woman who wears a provocative midnight slip dress, gets heavily inebriated, and enters a hotel with a strange young man..." "What makes you think anyone should believe you were forced?" The room spun. I felt nak//ed in front of everyone. Sullivan's body went rigid for a split second. His eyes caught my pale face. I saw his throat move. Like he'd just heard himself. But then he looked away. Back to being the coldest knife in the courtroom. I sank my teeth harshly into my lower lip until the sharp metallic tang of blood bloomed in my mouth. That da//mning red dress had been a gift from Celine all along. "Vivian, you always dress so plain. Tonight's Sullivan's big celebration. You should make him look." I didn't want to wear it. Sullivan zipped it up for me. Smiled low against my ear. "My wife in red... you’re the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." "Don't be scared of people staring, Vivi." "You're not shameless. You're stunning." Now he called me a streetwalker. I stared at him and felt the world tilt. Like someone had shoved me back into the nightmare from seven years ago. Back then I was a junior associate. My boss nearly raped me. Everyone asked if I'd "slept my way up." Sullivan was the one who told me: you didn't do anything wrong. The opposing counsel had once pointed directly at me in court, sneering, "Why did you not scream? Why did you not run? Were you not partially willing?” He stood up. "Objection! You cannot deny my client's trauma simply because she didn't fight the way you imagine she should have." I broke down in court that day. Because someone finally said it out loud. I wasn't guilty. I was just terrified. But today, the monster was his first love's little brother. And Sullivan jammed those words straight into my ches//t: You had brought this ruin upon yourself. I lifted my eyes to meet his, my voice thinning to a fragile, breathless whisper. "Sullivan. You didn't used to say things like that." His fingers stilled abruptly against the case file. For a single heartbeat, there was silence. Then he pulled out another document. [Psychiatric Intervention Records] My heart stopped. My therapy notes. From seven years ago. The one wound I'd never wanted anyone to see. I remembered those endless nights: trembling and screaming through panic attacks, scrubbing my skin raw until it bled in a compulsive urge to cleanse myself. I couldn't let men near me. Couldn't walk into a closed room. Sullivan took me to every session. After each one, he'd hold me. Kiss my forehead over and over. "Don't be scared, Vivi. I'll protect you for the rest of my life." I had handed him every broken, bleeding fragment of my shattered self back then. Now he was ripping open every scar, for the whole world to watch. He flipped the file open flat on the counsel table, his tone deadly calm and unyielding, "Your Honor, Ms. Croft underwent long-term psychiatric intervention seven years ago." "Including documented stress responses to male contact, and severe persecutory ideation." My veins turned to ice. "Liar..." My voice cracked. "That's private. How could you..." He didn't look at me. "Ms. Croft’s medical records document a consistent pattern of misinterpreting ordinary male interactions as violent assaults, even in the absence of any genuine threat." "We therefore submit that on the night in question. Under the influence of alcohol, old trauma, and marital strain, she experienced a cognitive distortion." The gallery exploded. "Cognitive distortion? So she's crazy?" "Oh my God, she's done this before!" "Textbook victim complex." I started shaking. Sullivan glanced at me then. His knuckles went white around the file. But Celine let out a tiny sob. He turned back to the judge. "Furthermore, the defense has evidence of a long-standing conflict between Ms. Croft and Ms. Whitmore." He pulled out more exhibits. "Ms. Whitmore has been subjected to repeated verbal attacks from Ms. Croft, who believes Ms. Whitmore is destroying her marriage." "Especially after learning of Ms. Whitmore's pregnancy, Ms. Croft's emotional state deteriorated sharply." On the big screen, there were screenshots of my texts with Celine. They were deliberately cropped, stripped of all context, curated to display only my sharpest, most confrontational lines. [Stay away from Sullivan.] [You know he's married.] [What do you actually want, Celine?] Sullivan read them aloud and flat. "These clearly establish Ms. Croft's deep hostility toward Ms. Whitmore." I stared at the screen, freezing from the inside out. "That's not..." "She sent me photos of them watching fireworks at midnight." "She told me her baby needed a father." "She said Sullivan would leave me eventually." Celine burst into tears, shaking her head frantically in feigned grievance. "I never! Vivian, why are you lying about me?" She clutched her pregnan//t belly tightly, hot tears streaming down her cheeks in a carefully crafted display of vulnerability. "I only said the baby was innocent. I never wanted to take Sullivan from you!" "Eden and I lost our parents young. He's all I have. And now I'm pregnan//t and alone and I was just scared..." Sullivan kept going. "Did you, in the hospital maternity wing, publicly curse Ms. Whitmore's unborn child?" My hands clenched. That day, Celine called saying Sullivan was in trouble. I rushed to the hospital, and found him holding her hand during her ultrasound. She leaned into his shoulder. Touched her stomach. "Sullivan, do you think the baby will look more like you, or me?" I stood there like a punchline. All I said was, "Celine. Is this fun for you?" Now that was "proof" of my jealousy. I looked at the gallery. My mother, Eleanor, sat there. Her face drained of all color, her eyes blazing red with suppressed tears and fury. She was the toughest woman I knew. After my first case, she held me and sobbed so hard she couldn't stand. Then Sullivan came. He swore to God in front of her. "Mrs. Croft, I'll protect Vivian. No one will ever hurt her again." Today she watched that same man strip me nak//ed for everyone. She stood up suddenly. "Sullivan Evans! Have you lost every ounce of your humanity??" "Seven years ago, what did you promise me?" "Now you're using her medical records, her wounds, her pain about not having children, to get a rapist off?" "How dare you. How dare you!" Sullivan went pale. He stood there, unable to utter a single word in his defense. I watched my mother's back and felt something crack in my ches//t. After the first hearing, my mother held me tight and walked me out. Reporters swarmed the stone courthouse steps in a chaotic mob.Blinding flashbulbs burst relentlessly in my eyes, and microphones were thrust rudely inches from my face, one after another. "Ms. Croft, were you jealous that Celine was carrying Sullivan's baby, so you threw yourself at her brother?" "Word is you went commando that night. Do you suffer from sexual addiction?" "You pulled this stunt seven years ago. Now you're shaking down a twenty-year-old young man. A classic honey trap?" "Is that your mother? Does she know about your reckless lifestyle?" I stumbled. Someone grabbed my sleeve in the crush. The fabric tore. My shoulder and half my ches//t hit the air. Cameras flashed wildly, capturing every exposed inch. Male onlookers laughed and whistled, "da//mn, no wonder the kid couldn't keep his hands off!" My stomach turned inside out. Mom lunged in front of me. Covered me with her own body. "Back off! You animals! Have you no shame?" In the chaos, someone shoved her hard. Her forehead cracked against the courthouse pillar's sharp edge. Blood poured down her face. It took bailiffs to clear the way. That night, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Sullivan and Celine standing on our porch. Mom's face went murderous. "What do you want?" Celine looked at me, wet-eyed. "Vivian, I came to apologize for my brother. But he is only twenty. He's never even had a girlfriend. He genuinely thought you were lonely and seeking attention in that dress..." "He said the second he touched you, you responded. You didn't fight him at all. So why call the police after and try to destroy his whole life?" My brain detonated. I locked eyes on her. "Say that again. I was dru//gged. Convulsing. And you're telling me I wanted it?" Celine flinched into Sullivan's ches//t. "Vivian, please... Is she having another breakdown?" Mom's palm cracked across Celine's cheek. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Sullivan pulled Celine behind him, his jaw tightening into a hard, unforgiving line. "She's pregnan//t. You had no right to do so." Then he turned to me. "Vivian. Drop the charges." Every word sliced into me like a fresh blade. "I can make this go away. Sign the withdrawal. We won't pursue the false-report angle." "If you keep pushing, you'll lose. You can't handle what's coming." I stared fixedly at the man standing in my doorway—a complete stranger. "Are you warning me because you care, Sullivan?" "Or threatening me that if I don't fold, you'll bury me in the press?" His face flickered. "That's not what I meant." Mom pointed at the door with her shaking hands. "Get out. Both of you!" She suddenly clutched tightly at her ches//t, her body staggering weakly to the side. I screamed and caught her. Sullivan stepped forward instinctively to help. I shoved him back. "Don't touch her!" He froze. Mom slumped against me. Pale. Sweating. I fumbled for my phone. Dialed 911. Sullivan stood at the threshold. For the first time, he looked lost. "Vivi, I..." I held my mother. My whole body trembling so violently I could barely form words. "Take Celine and get out of my house! If something happens to my mom, I will never forgive you." His lips moved. Nothing came out. Mom's hand went cold in mine. And I realized Sullivan hadn't come to talk me into dropping charges. He'd come to finish off the last person who still stood between me and the edge.
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I asked to stay over 4 times in 4 years. He said no every time. "We're not married yet. I want to respect your space." Then I saw the photo. My intern—the one who stole my work—posted a picture of her feet in my slippers. Standing in his living room. He gave her the spare key. Made her instant ramen—the same late-night snack he always made for me. Drank wine with her—and he never drinks. When I confronted him, he called me petty. "She's just a tenant," he said. "Show some empathy." Two days later, he posted a video in our company Slack. Apologizing for me. Telling everyone I bullied her. Destroying my reputation—for her. I called him. He didn't answer. She did. "Julian's asleep," she purred. "He's been with me all night." Four years I gave him. Four years of waiting, of respecting his boundaries. And he threw me away the second someone new smiled at him. I packed one bag, deleted every photo, and blocked his number. A man not worth waiting for—good riddance. I complained when Julian Brooks rejected my request to stay over—for the fourth time. "Julian, you're so rigid." My apartment's AC had died in the middle of a hun//dred-degree heatwave. Yet he insisted on being old-fashioned about it. Throughout our four years together, no matter how late it got, he always insisted on driving me home. Julian sighed and tried to soothe me. "Be sweet, Chloe. We aren't married yet, and I want us to respect each other's space. I don't want anyone at the office gossiping about us living together." My heart warmed at his words, so I fell right back into our usual routine, venting to him about the recent drama at my office just like I always did. But he kept checking his watch, clearly distracted, and urged me to head back. Fortunately, the HVAC technician found a sudden opening and rushed over to my place. While waiting for him to finish the repairs, I happened to scroll through my Instagram feed and saw a post from our company's new marketing intern, Savannah Cross. [My landlord suddenly canceled my lease, but thank god someone stepped up to help. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping on the streets.] I recognized the background of her photo immediately. It was Julian's apartment. I stared at my phone screen, completely frozen. I stood there so long the technician finished fixing the unit and carefully lowered the thermostat. "Too hot for you, kiddo?" He looked at me with a sympathetic sigh. "Tell you what, I'll knock twenty bucks off the bill. Take it from an old man—there's no rough patch in life you can't get through." Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I forced a smile. "Thank you. You're absolutely right." Julian was a rough patch I was finally moving past. ****** Savannah's photo only showed her legs and her luggage. She was wearing my slippers, standing right inside Julian's living room. The moment I stepped out of his apartment, she stepped right in. Before leaving, I had playfully begged Julian to let me stay. He refused without a second thought. "Chloe, you need to go home. I have urgent work to finish in a bit." As it turned out, there was no urgent work. The only urgency was Savannah. She was the new intern in my department, and we hadn't been getting along. I mentioned this to Julian before. But he never seemed to care, let alone listen. I had no idea Julian even knew Savannah. He'd never mentioned her. Yet it was glaringly obvious that she was spending the night at his place. Another red notification popped up on my screen as Savannah updated her feed again. [Meeting a soft-hearted god at my absolute worst. Blessed.] This time, Julian was in the photo. He was looking down at her with a helpless, fond smile. Two bowls of instant ramen with Spam sat on the table. On weekends, when Julian and I curled up together, that was the exact late-night snack he always made for me. Now, he was making it for Savannah. Savannah's comment sat right beneath the post, smug and flaunting. [Rent is two hun//dred, utilities are free, and no deposit. Best landlord ever.] Landlord. He had let Savannah move in. A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest, stealing my breath. To make his commute easier, Julian had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the office. It was a great place—twenty-five hun//dred a month. It used to be a shared rental, but his old roommate had moved out, and they hadn't found a suitable replacement. Worried the rent would be too much, I suggested moving in to split the cost. He flatly refused. "Chloe, I won't take your note, and I don't think it's right to move in together before marriage." It wasn't right for me, but it was perfectly fine for Savannah. I remembered those boundaries so clearly. The first time I asked to stay over was during our honeymoon phase, and Julian strictly turned me down. The second time, I came down with a sudden high fever. Julian still drove me back to my place, watched me take my medicine, and left the moment I fell asleep. The third time was the worst—someone had left a strange mark on my apartment door. I was losing my mind with fear, but Julian still wouldn't let me stay at his place. Instead, he booked me a hotel room. He spent the next day contacting landlords, agents, and movers, ensuring I relocated to a new apartment within twenty-four hours. Four years, and I couldn't get into Julian's place. Savannah managed it without lifting a finger. I had to admit his "traditional" boundaries were reserved exclusively for me. My phone buzzed with a text from Julian. [Goodnight.] No explanation. No mention of her. [By the way, I found a new roommate. She's moving in tomorrow under an emergency circumstance.] [Chloe, make sure to let me know in advance before you come over from now on.] Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. But my tears hit the screen first. I wiped my eyes and didn't reply. Savannah posted a third update. One photo showed her clinking wine glasses with Julian, and the other was a selfie where their cheeks were practically pressed together. [Celebrating the new place. Here's to the future, Mr. Brooks.] Late at night. An unmarried man and woman. Living together. Julian never touched a drop of alcohol. Yet he was drinking with her tonight. In an instant, all the determination holding my heart together vanished. It was all so pathetic. I didn't text Julian for the next two days. He didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until later that week, when a sudden torrential downpour hit right at the end of the workday, that our paths crossed. I was waiting for an Uber under the office awning. Savannah was standing right next to me. She was holding her phone, whining cutely to whoever was on the other end. "Can you pull up a little closer? Hurry, the wind is freezing..." A car pulled up right in front of us. Entirely too familiar. Sure enough, the window rolled down to reveal Julian in the driver's seat. He hadn't sent a single text to check on me during this storm, yet he'd rushed over to pick up Savannah. Julian froze when he caught sight of me. "Chloe, you..." Savannah closed her umbrella, opened the door, and hopped straight into the passenger seat. "Julian, you actually know Chloe?" She looked out at me from the dry comfort of the car, her smile radiating sweetness. "Chloe, why don't you get in? Let Julian give you a ride. It's impossible to get an Uber in this weather." My own boyfriend was offering me a ride, and only because she'd graciously granted him permission. Julian remained silent, merely looking at me. I shook my head expressionlessly. "No need." My ride was already confirmed and only three minutes away. No reason to get in that car just to make myself sick. Savannah nodded and rolled up the window. The car lingered for a few seconds before driving off into the rain. When I finally got home and stepped out of the shower, I found Julian waiting in my living room. He still had the code to my smart lock. "Chloe, are you throwing a tantrum?" "When you refused to get in the car, I thought you were just busy, but the more I thought about it, the more off it felt." Julian reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped aside, dodging him. "Is this about me picking up Savannah today?" "Or because I didn't let you stay over the other night and didn't drive you home?" He let out a helpless chuckle. "Don't be so petty. Savannah's an old classmate. I only picked her up because I was passing by—and it's hard to say no when she asks." "Not letting you stay over was for your own good. I promise I'll drive you home next time..." "Julian, let's break up." Julian stiffened, his face instantly darkening. "Chloe, over something this minor?" "Yes." My eyes were entirely dead. "I can't stay at your place, but Savannah can. Don't you find that hilarious?" He'd never intended to tell me about her because he knew exactly how I'd react. "You... let me explain." Julian's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to already know. "Savannah moved to the city all by herself from a small town, and I'm the only person she knows here." "It's tough for a young girl, and her landlord suddenly kicked her out. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd be on the streets." "Chloe, you're a woman too—show some empathy." Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just an emergency temporary stay. Besides, there's nothing going on between us, so we don't need to overcomplicate things." "She's different from you. She's just a tenant." "Just a tenant?" I laughed. "Julian, I told you before that Savannah is the new intern in my department." "During her first week, she spent every single lunch break on the phone in the breakroom. When people teased her about it, she claimed it wasn't a boyfriend, just an old classmate." "That old classmate was you, wasn't it?" Julian's eyes flickered with guilt for a fraction of a second, but he didn't deny it. I used to love sharing things with him, flooding his phone with texts whenever I had a free moment. But his replies were always agonizingly slow, if they came at all. We'd fought about it a few times. Back then, Julian would just look exhausted and say, "Chloe, we're adults. Work is busy, and I need to rest during lunch. Can you stop making things difficult for me?" But when it came to Savannah, it was never difficult. "For the past two days, Savannah started bringing homemade lunches to work. You made those for her too, didn't you?" "And you're still trying to tell me she's just a tenant?" Those lunchboxes were a matching couple's set I'd bought, left behind at Julian's apartment. Now, Savannah was using them. Julian knitted his brows, completely unable to comprehend my anger. "Chloe, aren't you reading way too much into this?" "Don't be prejudiced against Savannah. She told me there was just a misunderstanding between you two at work..." He didn't listen to a single word I said, but he took everything Savannah said as gospel. I had nothing left to say. The silence in the room grew suffocating until the doorbell suddenly rang. Julian turned to open it. A second later, Savannah poked her head in, smiling warmly at me. "Hi, Chloe. Sorry to drop by unannounced." My gaze pierced right through Savannah and landed coldly on Julian. "You brought her here?" Savannah couldn't have found my address on her own. Julian stood beside her, deliberately avoiding my eyes. "Chloe, Savannah isn't the kind of person you think she is." "Since there's a misunderstanding, you two should just talk it out..." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I spent two weeks pulling all-nighters for our latest marketing campaign, and she intentionally deleted my name from the pitch deck. You call that a misunderstanding?" I was the lead on that project, and Savannah was only supposed to assist me. After all my hard work, she secretly wiped my version from the shared drive history and submitted the campaign under her own name. I'd confronted her directly, but I couldn't recover the deleted file history in time to prove it to management. The drama had caused a massive stir in the office. "Chloe, you shouldn't bully me just because I'm the new intern." "That campaign was clearly my..." Savannah's eyes welled with tears, her voice trailing off vulnerably. "Forget it. You're Julian's girlfriend, and I don't want things to be tense between us. I definitely don't want you two fighting because of me." "Let's just say it was my fault. I apologize." Heartache flashed across Julian's face. "Savannah, I know what kind of person you are. Right is right." He turned to me, his tone hardening. "You shouldn't have to compromise yourself just for my sake." Then he looked straight at me. "Chloe, just apologize to Savannah, and we can all move past this." The final trace of agonizing heartache vanished from my chest. I felt entirely, completely numb. "Julian, let me make this incredibly clear. We are broken up." "Now, take your little friend and get the he11 out of my apartment." Savannah flinched, tears cascading down her face as she clutched the edge of Julian's jacket, shrinking behind him. Julian's expression turned vicious and mocking. "Chloe, are you seriously trying to threaten me with a breakup? You honestly think I'll just bow down to that?" "You are completely unhinged." He grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her out the door. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained of energy. Right then, my phone rang. It was my mom. "Chloe, are you really moving back home? Did something happen out there?" "No, Mom. I already turned in my resignation. I'm just wrapping up my files over the next two days before heading back." "Did you and Julian have a fight?" "No fight. We broke up." I'd already been thinking about changing companies anyway. And after the nightmare with Savannah, I immediately submitted my two weeks' notice. Our director thought he'd struck gold with Savannah, so he approved my departure without a single complaint. My mom went quiet for a few seconds. "Broken up... well, as long as you've thought it through." "It's good that you're coming back. Your dad and I won't have to constantly worry about you getting mistreated out there." My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. "Mom, don't worry about me." "I've already been looking at job openings, and there are plenty of great marketing agencies back home..." "I'm not worried about the job, sweetie. Just don't push yourself too hard." A lump formed in my throat, leaving me completely speechless. I'd hoped to spend my last two days in the city in peace. But Savannah had no intention of letting me go quietly. Just as the workday ended, the company Slack workspace absolutely exploded. Savannah had dropped a video into the main public channel. The person in the video was Julian. His face was dead serious, completely devoid of any playfulness. "Regarding the recent campaign pitch, I am formally apologizing to Savannah Cross on behalf of my girlfriend, Chloe Vance."
I asked to stay over 4 times in 4 years. He said no every time. "We're not married yet. I want to respect your space." Then I saw the photo. My intern—the one who stole my work—posted a picture of her feet in my slippers. Standing in his living room. He gave her the spare key. Made her instant ramen—the same late-night snack he always made for me. Drank wine with her—and he never drinks. When I confronted him, he called me petty. "She's just a tenant," he said. "Show some empathy." Two days later, he posted a video in our company Slack. Apologizing for me. Telling everyone I bullied her. Destroying my reputation—for her. I called him. He didn't answer. She did. "Julian's asleep," she purred. "He's been with me all night." Four years I gave him. Four years of waiting, of respecting his boundaries. And he threw me away the second someone new smiled at him. I packed one bag, deleted every photo, and blocked his number. A man not worth waiting for—good riddance. I complained when Julian Brooks rejected my request to stay over—for the fourth time. "Julian, you're so rigid." My apartment's AC had died in the middle of a hun//dred-degree heatwave. Yet he insisted on being old-fashioned about it. Throughout our four years together, no matter how late it got, he always insisted on driving me home. Julian sighed and tried to soothe me. "Be sweet, Chloe. We aren't married yet, and I want us to respect each other's space. I don't want anyone at the office gossiping about us living together." My heart warmed at his words, so I fell right back into our usual routine, venting to him about the recent drama at my office just like I always did. But he kept checking his watch, clearly distracted, and urged me to head back. Fortunately, the HVAC technician found a sudden opening and rushed over to my place. While waiting for him to finish the repairs, I happened to scroll through my Instagram feed and saw a post from our company's new marketing intern, Savannah Cross. [My landlord suddenly canceled my lease, but thank god someone stepped up to help. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping on the streets.] I recognized the background of her photo immediately. It was Julian's apartment. I stared at my phone screen, completely frozen. I stood there so long the technician finished fixing the unit and carefully lowered the thermostat. "Too hot for you, kiddo?" He looked at me with a sympathetic sigh. "Tell you what, I'll knock twenty bucks off the bill. Take it from an old man—there's no rough patch in life you can't get through." Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I forced a smile. "Thank you. You're absolutely right." Julian was a rough patch I was finally moving past. ****** Savannah's photo only showed her legs and her luggage. She was wearing my slippers, standing right inside Julian's living room. The moment I stepped out of his apartment, she stepped right in. Before leaving, I had playfully begged Julian to let me stay. He refused without a second thought. "Chloe, you need to go home. I have urgent work to finish in a bit." As it turned out, there was no urgent work. The only urgency was Savannah. She was the new intern in my department, and we hadn't been getting along. I mentioned this to Julian before. But he never seemed to care, let alone listen. I had no idea Julian even knew Savannah. He'd never mentioned her. Yet it was glaringly obvious that she was spending the night at his place. Another red notification popped up on my screen as Savannah updated her feed again. [Meeting a soft-hearted god at my absolute worst. Blessed.] This time, Julian was in the photo. He was looking down at her with a helpless, fond smile. Two bowls of instant ramen with Spam sat on the table. On weekends, when Julian and I curled up together, that was the exact late-night snack he always made for me. Now, he was making it for Savannah. Savannah's comment sat right beneath the post, smug and flaunting. [Rent is two hun//dred, utilities are free, and no deposit. Best landlord ever.] Landlord. He had let Savannah move in. A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest, stealing my breath. To make his commute easier, Julian had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the office. It was a great place—twenty-five hun//dred a month. It used to be a shared rental, but his old roommate had moved out, and they hadn't found a suitable replacement. Worried the rent would be too much, I suggested moving in to split the cost. He flatly refused. "Chloe, I won't take your note, and I don't think it's right to move in together before marriage." It wasn't right for me, but it was perfectly fine for Savannah. I remembered those boundaries so clearly. The first time I asked to stay over was during our honeymoon phase, and Julian strictly turned me down. The second time, I came down with a sudden high fever. Julian still drove me back to my place, watched me take my medicine, and left the moment I fell asleep. The third time was the worst—someone had left a strange mark on my apartment door. I was losing my mind with fear, but Julian still wouldn't let me stay at his place. Instead, he booked me a hotel room. He spent the next day contacting landlords, agents, and movers, ensuring I relocated to a new apartment within twenty-four hours. Four years, and I couldn't get into Julian's place. Savannah managed it without lifting a finger. I had to admit his "traditional" boundaries were reserved exclusively for me. My phone buzzed with a text from Julian. [Goodnight.] No explanation. No mention of her. [By the way, I found a new roommate. She's moving in tomorrow under an emergency circumstance.] [Chloe, make sure to let me know in advance before you come over from now on.] Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. But my tears hit the screen first. I wiped my eyes and didn't reply. Savannah posted a third update. One photo showed her clinking wine glasses with Julian, and the other was a selfie where their cheeks were practically pressed together. [Celebrating the new place. Here's to the future, Mr. Brooks.] Late at night. An unmarried man and woman. Living together. Julian never touched a drop of alcohol. Yet he was drinking with her tonight. In an instant, all the determination holding my heart together vanished. It was all so pathetic. I didn't text Julian for the next two days. He didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until later that week, when a sudden torrential downpour hit right at the end of the workday, that our paths crossed. I was waiting for an Uber under the office awning. Savannah was standing right next to me. She was holding her phone, whining cutely to whoever was on the other end. "Can you pull up a little closer? Hurry, the wind is freezing..." A car pulled up right in front of us. Entirely too familiar. Sure enough, the window rolled down to reveal Julian in the driver's seat. He hadn't sent a single text to check on me during this storm, yet he'd rushed over to pick up Savannah. Julian froze when he caught sight of me. "Chloe, you..." Savannah closed her umbrella, opened the door, and hopped straight into the passenger seat. "Julian, you actually know Chloe?" She looked out at me from the dry comfort of the car, her smile radiating sweetness. "Chloe, why don't you get in? Let Julian give you a ride. It's impossible to get an Uber in this weather." My own boyfriend was offering me a ride, and only because she'd graciously granted him permission. Julian remained silent, merely looking at me. I shook my head expressionlessly. "No need." My ride was already confirmed and only three minutes away. No reason to get in that car just to make myself sick. Savannah nodded and rolled up the window. The car lingered for a few seconds before driving off into the rain. When I finally got home and stepped out of the shower, I found Julian waiting in my living room. He still had the code to my smart lock. "Chloe, are you throwing a tantrum?" "When you refused to get in the car, I thought you were just busy, but the more I thought about it, the more off it felt." Julian reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped aside, dodging him. "Is this about me picking up Savannah today?" "Or because I didn't let you stay over the other night and didn't drive you home?" He let out a helpless chuckle. "Don't be so petty. Savannah's an old classmate. I only picked her up because I was passing by—and it's hard to say no when she asks." "Not letting you stay over was for your own good. I promise I'll drive you home next time..." "Julian, let's break up." Julian stiffened, his face instantly darkening. "Chloe, over something this minor?" "Yes." My eyes were entirely dead. "I can't stay at your place, but Savannah can. Don't you find that hilarious?" He'd never intended to tell me about her because he knew exactly how I'd react. "You... let me explain." Julian's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to already know. "Savannah moved to the city all by herself from a small town, and I'm the only person she knows here." "It's tough for a young girl, and her landlord suddenly kicked her out. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd be on the streets." "Chloe, you're a woman too—show some empathy." Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just an emergency temporary stay. Besides, there's nothing going on between us, so we don't need to overcomplicate things." "She's different from you. She's just a tenant." "Just a tenant?" I laughed. "Julian, I told you before that Savannah is the new intern in my department." "During her first week, she spent every single lunch break on the phone in the breakroom. When people teased her about it, she claimed it wasn't a boyfriend, just an old classmate." "That old classmate was you, wasn't it?" Julian's eyes flickered with guilt for a fraction of a second, but he didn't deny it. I used to love sharing things with him, flooding his phone with texts whenever I had a free moment. But his replies were always agonizingly slow, if they came at all. We'd fought about it a few times. Back then, Julian would just look exhausted and say, "Chloe, we're adults. Work is busy, and I need to rest during lunch. Can you stop making things difficult for me?" But when it came to Savannah, it was never difficult. "For the past two days, Savannah started bringing homemade lunches to work. You made those for her too, didn't you?" "And you're still trying to tell me she's just a tenant?" Those lunchboxes were a matching couple's set I'd bought, left behind at Julian's apartment. Now, Savannah was using them. Julian knitted his brows, completely unable to comprehend my anger. "Chloe, aren't you reading way too much into this?" "Don't be prejudiced against Savannah. She told me there was just a misunderstanding between you two at work..." He didn't listen to a single word I said, but he took everything Savannah said as gospel. I had nothing left to say. The silence in the room grew suffocating until the doorbell suddenly rang. Julian turned to open it. A second later, Savannah poked her head in, smiling warmly at me. "Hi, Chloe. Sorry to drop by unannounced." My gaze pierced right through Savannah and landed coldly on Julian. "You brought her here?" Savannah couldn't have found my address on her own. Julian stood beside her, deliberately avoiding my eyes. "Chloe, Savannah isn't the kind of person you think she is." "Since there's a misunderstanding, you two should just talk it out..." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I spent two weeks pulling all-nighters for our latest marketing campaign, and she intentionally deleted my name from the pitch deck. You call that a misunderstanding?" I was the lead on that project, and Savannah was only supposed to assist me. After all my hard work, she secretly wiped my version from the shared drive history and submitted the campaign under her own name. I'd confronted her directly, but I couldn't recover the deleted file history in time to prove it to management. The drama had caused a massive stir in the office. "Chloe, you shouldn't bully me just because I'm the new intern." "That campaign was clearly my..." Savannah's eyes welled with tears, her voice trailing off vulnerably. "Forget it. You're Julian's girlfriend, and I don't want things to be tense between us. I definitely don't want you two fighting because of me." "Let's just say it was my fault. I apologize." Heartache flashed across Julian's face. "Savannah, I know what kind of person you are. Right is right." He turned to me, his tone hardening. "You shouldn't have to compromise yourself just for my sake." Then he looked straight at me. "Chloe, just apologize to Savannah, and we can all move past this." The final trace of agonizing heartache vanished from my chest. I felt entirely, completely numb. "Julian, let me make this incredibly clear. We are broken up." "Now, take your little friend and get the he11 out of my apartment." Savannah flinched, tears cascading down her face as she clutched the edge of Julian's jacket, shrinking behind him. Julian's expression turned vicious and mocking. "Chloe, are you seriously trying to threaten me with a breakup? You honestly think I'll just bow down to that?" "You are completely unhinged." He grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her out the door. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained of energy. Right then, my phone rang. It was my mom. "Chloe, are you really moving back home? Did something happen out there?" "No, Mom. I already turned in my resignation. I'm just wrapping up my files over the next two days before heading back." "Did you and Julian have a fight?" "No fight. We broke up." I'd already been thinking about changing companies anyway. And after the nightmare with Savannah, I immediately submitted my two weeks' notice. Our director thought he'd struck gold with Savannah, so he approved my departure without a single complaint. My mom went quiet for a few seconds. "Broken up... well, as long as you've thought it through." "It's good that you're coming back. Your dad and I won't have to constantly worry about you getting mistreated out there." My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. "Mom, don't worry about me." "I've already been looking at job openings, and there are plenty of great marketing agencies back home..." "I'm not worried about the job, sweetie. Just don't push yourself too hard." A lump formed in my throat, leaving me completely speechless. I'd hoped to spend my last two days in the city in peace. But Savannah had no intention of letting me go quietly. Just as the workday ended, the company Slack workspace absolutely exploded. Savannah had dropped a video into the main public channel. The person in the video was Julian. His face was dead serious, completely devoid of any playfulness. "Regarding the recent campaign pitch, I am formally apologizing to Savannah Cross on behalf of my girlfriend, Chloe Vance."
I tailed Knox Whitmore for two days. One minute I was invisible. The next, I was t!ed to his b.ed, trembling, while he sneered down at me like I was garbage. "Don't stick me with this mouse. Give her to my brother." Seven years ago, I borrowed ten th0us4#&nd from him. Dumped his backpack in a sewer. Faked my death and vanished. He doesn't remember me. The car accident wiped me clean from his head. But I remember everything. The way he yanked my hair. Tossed my glasses. Called me "little mouse" while he watched me beg for his scraps. Now he's handing me over to his brother like a gift. I should run. I should be terrified. But then his cold eyes catch mine. He rips my glasses off again. Forces my chin up until I have no choice but to meet his gaze. And I see it. That flicker. That same strange pause from years ago when he realized I wasn't as ug1#&y as he thought. He doesn't know who I am. But his b0dy remembers. Before I faked my death, I decided to get even with the arrogant elites at school. I borrowed ten th0usand d0!lars from each of them. Seven years passed. The dust settled. They'd all climbed to the top. Power. m0ney. The whole world in their hands. Some even had fiancées now. They'd probably forgotten I ever existed. So I slipped back quietly to finish my final task: [Bitter Gaze of the Doomed Side Character] Day two of tailing my target, I got snatched and tied to one of their beds. I was shaking like a leaf. He stared down at me, cold and unrecognizing. "Don't stick me with this kind of mouse. Give her to my brother. Isn't she his type? He's already got a whole collection of girls like this." ... Knox Whitmore stood by the bed, phone pressed to his ear, his tone dripping with indifference. His gaze swept over me, cold and unfamiliar. I was in a plain long-sleeve shirt and black pants, black-framed glasses sitting on my nose. The most ordinary look possible. Silently trailing him. Watching him from the shadows. The System's voice had barely faded from my head. 【Task one of the Bitter Gaze of the Doomed Side Character. Complete.】 And I got snatched up and dumped onto this soft mattress. Knox tore into whoever was on the other end of the line. "You sent me someone you couldn't pick out of a crowd?" His face darkened. Long fingers moved to untie me. Then whoever was on the phone said something. Knox froze. His deep eyes narrowed, fixing on me. "Following me?" He tapped the speakerphone button. A shaky voice spilled out. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore. I observed this girl tailing you. I brought her here so you could deal with her yourself." Knox stopped untying me halfway. And tied me right back up. Someone handed him my file. He skimmed it, then tossed it aside without a second glance. Clicked his tongue. "Same high school as me." "You—you don't recognize me?" I asked, barely getting the words out. Knox looked at me like I'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. A scoff ripped out of him. "Are you someone important? Should I know you?" I froze. Seven years. Maybe he'd had too many girls around him. Maybe my face meant nothing anymore. But there was no way he could see my name, know we went to the same private high school, and have zero reaction. Because Knox was the worst of them back then. He made me his personal errand girl. His little shadow. He'd dump my breakfast straight into the tr@sh. Then he'd force me to call him some "master" and beg him to let me eat. Only then would he lazily toss me his leftovers. "Just like a little mouse." That was what he'd always say, right before pinching my cheeks as I chewed. ... Knox hated me the second he saw me. If he was the reckless, arrogant heir, I was the invisible girl locked in her own world, too quiet to string a sentence together. Then one day, I stepped on his watch. It had fallen on the floor. I panicked. Couldn't even look at him. Didn't need to think twice—I knew it was worth a fortune. His smile was razor-thin. He crooked a finger at me. "Rooftop. Little mouse." That evening. He plucked the black glasses off my face and tossed them aside like garbage. Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair. My thick bangs got swept up along with it. He paused. The cold disgust on his face flickered into something else. His brow arched. His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate. "Didn't expect that. You're actually not bad-looking. So why act like a mouse? Can't even look me in the eye." I shrank back. Said to myself. I never used to know why I was like this either. But then the System showed up and told me I was the pathetic, dark-minded side character in some glossy romance novel. My whole purpose was to be invisible and miserable—just a shadow to make the male leads look more impressive, and the female lead shine brighter. So I just accepted it. Knox waited for me to say something. I couldn't spit out a single word. Impatient, he grabbed my face and squeezed hard. But he didn't punish me. Didn't make me pay for the watch. He made me his lackey. His personal errand girl. His toy. Until I borrowed ten th0usand d0!lars from him. Sneakily dumped his backpack into a sewer. And vanished. "I got into a car accident two years ago," Knox said, perfectly matter-of-fact. "Forgot a lot of things. But—" He let out a dry laugh. "Don't tell me. You're some ex-girlfriend from before I lost my memory?" "No, no, no." I shook my head fast. The second I realized he'd actually forgotten, a quiet rush of relief hit me. I forced a smile. "Sorry. I won't follow you anymore." He stared down at me. I couldn't tell if he bought it. Then, just like he used to. He lazily pulled off my black glasses. Fingers gripped my chin and forced my head up. I still didn't meet his eyes. My lashes trembled. "I hate mice," Knox said, a smirk in his voice. "But my brother loves them." "No!" The word ripped out of me as my eyes snapped up. Knox had lost his memory from the crash. But his brother? No way. I knew exactly what his brother was capable of. "You don't get a choice." Knox's voice was ice. Knox dragged me straight back to his place. I fought him the whole way there. Didn't matter. He never untied me. My struggling got me nowhere. Knox's mouth curled. He clamped a hand down on my thrashing legs. "Stop pretending. Weren't you the one following me? Too bad. You're not my type. But my brother got a thing for girls like you. Land him, and at least your effort won't be wasted." I stayed silent. Refused to engage. Silently, I asked the System, 【What are my chances of slipping away?】 The System sounded exasperated. 【You've got a gift-wrapped opportunity, and you want to run? Then how exactly do you plan to finish the 'Bitter Gaze' task?】 【The whole reason you were tailing Knox is that he's always at racetracks and bars. Think his elder brother Silas is the same?】 It clicked. Good point. But I was still scared. I still owed them m0ney. The System tried again. 【That amount is pocket change. Silas is way too busy, and you're way too ordinary. There's no chance he'd even remember you.】 I agreed. The System's reassurances calmed me down a little. It encouraged me. 【Good luck.】 During the years I'd been gone, the System told me the plot had gone off the rails. The male leads never met the female lead. She'd gone abroad to study and built her own career. But my task stayed the same. Thank God. I just wanted my payout. ... For the next few days, Knox was nowhere to be seen. He kept me locked up in that massive mansion. Sure, it was basically imprisonment. But there was a housekeeper, a cook, a full staff. I ate, I slept, I ate again. Then, a week later. A swarm of people flooded the estate. Decorations everywhere. I leaned over my bedroom balcony, staring down. 【It's Silas' birthday.】 The System piped up. 【If I recall correctly, before you faked your death, he made you prepare an elaborate gift for him every single birthday.】 Translation: You seriously forgot his birthday? I muttered, 【He wasn't the only one demanding gifts. There were two others. And I had no m0ney.】 【Didn't they give you m0ney?】 I said, very seriously, 【If they gave it to me, it's mine. What does that have to do with their birthday presents?】 【You got a point.】 The mansion was decked out, dripping with opulence. Champagne towers everywhere. The whole place hummed with that over-the-top, extravagant birthday energy. That night. Designer suits and gowns poured through the doors. I could hear the noise from all the way up on the third floor. Knox came back. He threw a dress at me. Moonlight white. Short. Not flashy—more understated and fresh. Except for the massive bow right at the cutout on the waist. I shook my head. "Not wearing it." Even with amnesia, Knox hadn't changed one bit. Back in school, he'd pulled every trick to get me into a short skirt. Same thing now. Knox's eyelids lifted. "Don't tell me you plan on going downstairs in that." What was wrong with that? A simple white tee. Relaxed black pants. I mumbled, "I could just not go down." Knox let out a humorless laugh. "Then what did I keep you here for?" He dragged me onto the balcony. J3rked his chin toward the buzzing garden below. "Everyone else is in evening gowns. You think you're special? Not that putting one on would make you look better than any of them." I cu/t him off. "I didn't ask to be here." Just then, a wave of noise rose from below. Enthusiastic greetings. Cheers. The guest of honor had arrived. I spotted the man stepping out of the car instantly. Sharp, tailored suit. Arm linked with a girl who looked soft and demure. She wore this timid little expression, like she'd never seen anything like this before. Seven years ago, Silas had still carried traces of boyish detachment, cold and restrained. Now, he was fully grown. All controlled power. Effortless authority. A face that gave nothing away. Knox watched the scene below and clicked his tongue. "My brother's here. I've got to go see to him." He gave a lazy shrug. "Suit yourself." He pinched my cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe he likes them this frumpy." I blinked. Still processing his words as he pushed the door open to leave. He clearly assumed I wouldn't dare go downstairs—or try to run. "Wait here like a good girl," Knox said, easy and unhurried. "And lose the sour face. If my brother takes an interest, you could make serious cash. If not? You're free. I'll throw in some m0ney myself. How's that?" I frowned. "He already has a date tonight." "Oh." Knox didn't care. "He swaps them out constantly." The door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway. I stood there, the night breeze brushing past me. Still dazed, I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Silas, down below, tilted his head slightly. His gaze was about to sweep this way. I dropped down instantly. Crouched low. Slowly crawled back into the room. I'd done a lot of thinking these past few days. Sure, the odds of Silas remembering me were slim. But seven years ago, the guy was a genius with a photographic memory. And a grudge. These elite types weren't good people. If there was even a one percent chance of being recognized, I couldn't take it. And Knox? He could recover his memories any day. That was even worse. Anyway, what I needed to do was just that "bitter gaze" thing. I'd apply for a janitor job at Silas's company. Show up every day in full disguise, cleaning floors. Plenty of chances to stare at him from the shadows. The party downstairs kicked off. Glasses clinked. Everyone mingled. I slipped out the door as quietly as possible. And immediately ran into a group headed up the hallway, all polished outfits and designer accessories. They were chatting. "Isn't the lounge on the third floor?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. They noticed me too. At the front stood the girl who'd been clinging to Silas's arm earlier. She blinked at me. "You are...?" I pressed my lips together. "I'm—uh. The housekeeper's daughter. Yeah. That." Someone else immediately challenged it. "Why would the housekeeper's daughter be up here?" The girl's expression shifted. So did everyone else's. Disgust crept into their eyes. "You're some staff member's kid, sneaking around to steal, aren't you? I'm going to tell Mr. Whitmore right now." Someone else nodded, voice dripping with contempt. "Yeah. She's clearly guilty of something." My eyes went wide. "Wait!" The girl was already turning toward the stairs, firm. "It's Mr. Whitmore's birthday. I won't let any theft happen tonight." "I came here with Knox!" I blurted it out in sheer desperation. She stopped. Turned back slowly. Looked me up and down, disbelief written all over her face. "You? With him? How is that possible?" The way she scanned me now was nothing like the timid little act she'd been putting on beside Silas. "What's all this?" A lazy voice cu/t through the tension. Everyone turned. Knox raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised by the scene in front of him. The girl jumped in immediately. "We were looking for the lounge. Then we ran into her, sneaking around the hallway. I assumed she was a thief. I was about to go inform Silas... but she claims she's here with you." Seeing Knox, I exhaled in relief. He could vouch for me. I wasn't a thief. But the air went weirdly silent. After a beat, Knox's mouth curled coldly. "You're saying you found her in the hallway." The girl nodded frantically. "Acting very suspicious. Like she'd just stolen something and was about to bolt." I was at a loss for words. "Bolt?" Knox repeated the word, smile razor-sharp. A bad feeling hit me hard. Sure enough, his tone went flat. "She's a thief." The girl lit up at his confirmation. Then sh0t me a venomous glare. "Not just a thief. A liar, too. I'm telling Silas right now. He'll handle you." Her little leather shoes clicked down the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom, her voice had turned soft and sweet again. "Mr. Silas Whitmore!" I stood there, frozen. Ice in my veins. I looked at Knox, completely thrown. He leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed. His deep eyes pinned me down. Cold. Distant. Then came steady footsteps. Getting closer. The girl was already tattling, voice gentle. "Silas, it's a good thing I noticed her snooping around upstairs. She even lied and said Knox brought her here." I dropped my gaze, despair swallowing me whole. My he@rt s1@mmed against my ribs, frantic. Then my vision went black. The world spun. Just before I fully slipped away, I felt a pair of warm arms catch me.
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