1 The day after I refused to give a bizarre client her demeaning "kneeling service," Asher Reed started pursuing me. He was lavish with his money, and incredibly attentive, stating directly: "Stop looking for a job. I'll take care of you." I immediately agreed—with a handsome boyfriend willing to support me, who'd want to be a corporate drone? For the next year, he plunged me into a life of opulent excess. Everyone around us was betting that once his novelty wore off, my life would completely unravel. Sure enough, Asher soon broke up with me, confessing that his pursuit had merely been for a wager. But he didn’t know, I already knew everything. I shook the bankbook in my hand, smiling. "Thanks for the year's hospitality. Now, it’s time for me to focus on my career." The day my resignation was approved, I overheard Asher and Serena Thorne's conversation. "That fool has already quit her job. Within a year, I'll turn her into a total mess," Asher's voice drifted from behind the door. I peeked, seeing Serena’s eyes crinkle with laughter. "Asher, if you pull this off, I'll marry you." "Don't make me wait too long. I can't wait to see her abandon her dignity for money." Inside the private room, a group of trust fund kids sat, their faces plastered with mocking grins. "Finally, some entertainment in this dull life." "Serena's brilliant, though, isn't she? Getting a sales associate to live a life of being served hand and foot every day—this whole 'spoil to destroy' plan is pure genius." "Ruthless! With her background, she'll never truly break into our circle. What do you guys think she'll do once she’s gotten used to the lavish life and then gets thrown back to reality?" "My guess? Either she'll become a sugar baby for some old man, or she'll hit the streets, hahahaha." "Anyway, women, if they're willing to be... flexible, it’s much easier to make money than for men." Their laughter reached my ears, clear as a bell. A strange mix of nervousness and excitement bubbled within me. Before this, I’d actually felt a twinge of guilt towards Asher—after all, I'd only accepted his pursuit for the money too. Serena and I had no deep-seated animosity. Before quitting, I worked as a sales associate at a mid-range luxury brand. That day, she’d demanded I kneel on both knees to help her try on shoes. I’d knelt on one knee, but she’d used her toe to lift my chin, sneering, "Didn't you hear me? Both knees! If I weren't in such a good mood today, I wouldn't even step foot in a low-end store like this. You should feel honored to serve me on your knees." For years, I’d endured countless humiliations for the sake of survival, but that day, I just couldn't anymore. I pushed her foot away, stood up, and smiled. "My apologies, but we can't afford to serve a 'dignified' person like yourself. Also, that era is long gone. I suggest you update your worldview." Serena threw a fit. I was prepared to be fired, but instead, Asher Reed arrived. Who in Willow Creek didn't know about the sole heir of the Reed family? His prominent background and striking looks had already made him famous online. When he asked for my contact information, I already had a plan forming in my mind: given my background and education, I’d never reach the elite circles even if I struggled my whole life. The stepping stone Serena had unwittingly handed me was exactly the venture capital I needed for my own business. I really should "thank" her properly. To personally participate in this "game," Serena spared no effort. At one gathering, she feigned unfamiliarity with Asher, then extended an "olive branch" to me: "So, you're Asher's girlfriend. Let's just put the past behind us. We'll be in the same circles now; maybe we'll even become friends." Others seized the opportunity to probe about our past friction, and Asher even pretended to make Serena apologize by downing three shots. Watching a room full of privileged elites stage this play for my benefit, I secretly sighed: Oh, Quinn Davies, what did I do to deserve being their "electronic pet"? After "shaking hands" with Serena, the plan officially kicked off. Asher first changed my living situation—more than just moving, I essentially moved into his villa. He wouldn't let me bring any of my old clothes, only necessities. Once I was settled, he and Serena took me on a luxury shopping spree. Bags I could only admire from afar were now mine for the taking. I pretended to be completely overwhelmed, excitedly caressing the expensive items, then looking at Asher with greedy eyes, cautiously asking, "Can I have a few more?" As I turned, I caught him rolling his eyes, then quickly replacing it with a doting expression. "Of course. Take as many as you want, we'll pack them all up." I secretly pinched my thigh, then, teary-eyed, I threw myself into his arms. "Honey, you're so good to me!" His body stiffened, his face looking somewhat uncomfortable, but I ignored it, cupped his face, and kissed him—our first intimate contact. Serena reacted even more violently than he did. She practically yanked me away, her voice sharp. "Quinn Davies, what do you think you're doing?!" I blinked at her, smiling innocently. "Oh, sorry, you caught me being silly. I've never bought bags this expensive, so I got a little carried away. But Serena, why do you look even more excited than I do?" My words clearly pleased her. Serena glanced around, forcing a save. "N-nothing, I just think it's not appropriate for you two to be like that in public." My face flushed, and I quickly pulled away from Asher. Then, pointing at the various bags before me, I said, head held high, "This one, this one, and this one, no." "I want all the others!" While I was busy caressing my new bags, Serena and Asher slipped out, one after the other. A moment later, they returned, one after the other. In those few minutes, Serena's lipstick was smudged, but her complexion had considerably softened. Asher's eyes held an unconcealed glint of desire. I sighed softly, secretly resolving to put on an even better performance later. For my sake, they were both forcing down their desires. By all rights, they deserved a reward. So, I led them to the place I used to work. Facing my former colleagues, I played the part of the ungrateful, newly rich snob to perfection. I imperiously ordered colleagues to try on shoes for me, pair after pair. Though I didn’t make them kneel on both knees, anyone could see my deliberate torment. Serena’s lips curved upwards, her fists clenched as if suppressing inner excitement. Asher sat on the sofa, a playful smirk on his face. Only when my former colleagues were too exhausted to stand upright did I wave my hand. "I’ll take all the ones I just tried on." After providing the delivery address, I left, thoroughly satisfied, with my "pets" in tow. Oh, no, wait. My two distinguished benefactors. I hadn't walked far before a message popped up on my phone. "Q, next time something good like this happens, remember me, mwah!" Followed by a hundred-thousand-dollar transfer. I accepted it, sending back an "OK." 2 Serena, for the sake of her "electronic pet," specially created an online account. She named it "Sales Girl's Downfall." Simple, direct. Coincidentally, she had blocked my main account, but my burner account stumbled upon it. Every day, she updated her progress online, even creating a fan group for convenience. In her story, I was a vain sales associate who, driven by greed, stole her bag and publicly insulted her. So, they decided to "test" me. The wager was the same: to see if I would fall within a year. Since I was the protagonist, I naturally had to show my support. I infiltrated the fan group. It contained people from their inner circle and curious netizens. "Is this a new type of content? Interesting." "Host, update faster, can't wait." "Real or fake, I'm just curious how this sales associate's story ends." "I bet she will. That's human nature: it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back." "I agree with the above. No ordinary person can maintain their integrity with the blogger's methods. The sales associate has gotten used to a life of unearned luxury. Once the deadline hits and she's thrown back, she'll scorn small money but can't earn big money. She has only two outcomes: either her worldview collapses and she's completely ruined, or she'll be decadent for a long time, constantly doubting herself." "Honestly, this 'dog training' method is brutal, directly targeting her mentally. But this sales associate brought it on herself. If she hadn't been so delusional, she wouldn't have been played like a dog." I read the heated discussions among netizens, smiling as I put down my phone. In these past few months, although Asher never gave me cash directly, I had still monetized over three million dollars from him. The bags, jewelry, and clothes he bought me—of course, I wasn't foolish enough to sell them and buy knock-offs. Serena was too shrewd; she kept track of everything I received. I guessed that when we broke up, I wouldn't be able to take a single item. But while I couldn't sell them, I could certainly lend them out. Relying on these, I could still earn a decent income each month. 3 However, I couldn't always be compliant; it would be too boring if everything went too smoothly. When I suggested I wanted to work, Asher's expression immediately turned serious. He looked at me, puzzled. "Work is for poor people. With me, you only need to enjoy life." I wrapped my arms around his neck, playfully pouting. "But playing all the time gets a little boring." I paused, then proposed, "How about I enroll in some hobby classes? That way, I'll have something to do, what do you think~!" Asher agreed almost without hesitation. I smiled and threw myself into his arms, my voice syrupy sweet. "Honey, you're so good to me! I love you so much~" Asher's lips curled into a faint smile, and he habitually ruffled my hair. Over these past few months, his attitude towards me had already changed. Although he maintained his aloof demeanor when others were around, when it was just the two of us, he reveled in my playful affection, even initiating kisses, though he always stopped short of anything more. When Serena found out about the classes, she complained for a long time. She grumbled in her "die-hard fan" group. "Why is she taking classes all of a sudden? I have a bad feeling about this." I quickly picked up my phone and replied to her. "Sister, you're just too sensitive. What kind of trouble can a pauper like her stir up? She's probably just doing it for photos to show off. I've seen plenty of fake socialites like her." That's right, by insulting myself, I had become one of Serena's most devoted fans. In that group, besides their inner circle, only two netizens were the most vicious with their insults, and I was one of them. Serena’s worries about Asher were quickly dispelled. But to reassure her, I would post a hundred social media updates a day, a frequency so high that she would screenshot them and complain in the group. "Wearing LV socks too? Who wants to see her stinky feet?" In truth, I’d always had a clear understanding of myself. My luck was terrible; I was born into a family that heavily favored boys. At sixteen, I was forced to drop out of school, not even finishing high school, to work and earn tuition for my younger brother. Fortunately, I didn’t have much aptitude for academics anyway. Perhaps every class has that one person who tries incredibly hard but whose grades just won't improve. I was that person. When I first entered the workforce, I had low education, no specialized skills, and could only do low-barrier jobs. Most of the money I earned was even taken by my family. When I was eighteen, my brother said he wanted a laptop, so my mother personally sent me to an underground clinic to harvest my eggs. The moment I fought with all my might to break free from that operating table, I made up my mind: I would cut all ties with this so-called family for good. Later, I used my savings to further my education. In the years since entering society, I had cried because I was poor, and I had begged others. I was terrified of poverty, which is why I loved money, deeply. I was vain enough, and truly willing to fight for it. Asher Reed, as he stood before me, was the best stepping stone I could ask for. But such opportunities were rare. This time, I could only win, not lose. 4 With only two weeks left until the deadline, Serena and Asher had a huge fight over me. All because he had blocked a drink meant for me. I hid in the restroom, listening to Serena’s furious, teeth-gritted questions. "What do you mean? Do you like her now? Why did you block that drink for her? Answer me!" Asher rubbed his temples, his tone less than pleasant. "Didn't you ask me to pretend to be her boyfriend? I can't just stand there and watch her get hammered, can I?" "Do you think I'm just mad about one drink? How many times have you been all over her in front of me lately? Holding hands, kissing… what, are you really her boyfriend now? How far have things gone between you two?!" "Asher, how long has it been since you've been close to me? You haven't actually fallen for that cheap woman, have you?" Asher frowned, irritably tugging at his collar. "I promised you I wouldn't sleep with her, and I haven't broken that promise. As for the rest, it’s just because she’s so clingy. If I don't play along, she'll throw a fit. That's all it is." Serena was silent for a moment, then threw herself into his arms, softening her voice. "Alright, let's stop fighting. The year is almost up. In half a month, we'll get married, okay?" She stood on tiptoes, leaning in. But Asher dodged her, subtly creating distance. "I'm going back. This is all almost over. Don't let them catch on now." Serena’s mouth hung open, her face a picture of embarrassment. When I returned, Asher was nursing a drink, Serena already gone, probably sulking. As the party broke up, he’d drunk a lot, drunkenly slumping against my shoulder, murmuring incoherently, "Q, my good Q." Back at the villa, I tossed him onto the bed. Just as I was about to leave, he grabbed my wrist. The world spun, and I found myself pinned beneath him, his warm breath fanning my face. His hand moved along my waist, slowly trailing downwards. "Q, I want you." I wrapped my arms around his neck, whispering in his ear. "Okay." That night. Undercurrents stirred into a warm tide. … The next day, looking at his face, I felt pretty good. To be honest, I’d been hungry for a while. Asher might be a scoundrel, but he had the looks, the body, and the... technique. By all accounts, it was pure pleasure for me. After our intimate encounter, Asher instinctively began to categorize me as part of his territory. Now, not only did he openly defend me in front of Serena multiple times, he even stopped others from bothering me. His unconcealed possessiveness also drew Serena's ire. At a gathering, they again left one after the other. A moment later, Serena re-entered the private room, her face distraught, eyes red. She grabbed her bag and left. As she walked out, she glared at me fiercely. Someone noticed the tension and was about to follow her, but Asher sharply called out, "Come back! Leave her alone." For several days, Serena didn't reappear. Not until the deadline arrived. Without warning, Serena stormed into the villa with a large group of people. The trust fund kids sat in rows, all of them casting mocking glances my way. I licked my lips, a thrill running through me. This day had finally come. Asher’s face suddenly changed. He clearly hadn't expected their unannounced visit. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. Serena seized the opportunity to go live, pointing the camera at me, her expression ecstatic. "Quinn Davies, game over!"
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