Harrison Vance, a billionaire titan in the city, sponsored two underprivileged students from my university. One was Christopher, a brilliant, top-of-his-class senior destined for Wall Street. The other was me—Chloe. Just empty beauty, with a GPA that barely kept me enrolled. During our first meeting, Harrison asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I answered honestly: "I want to marry a rich man just like you." Harrison rolled his eyes. "Rich men aren't blind, sweetheart. Thanks, but no thanks." But later, I saw him with his Italian leather shoe pressing down on Christopher’s hand, crushing it into the pavement. His voice was like dry ice as he warned him: "Are you blind? Can't you see Chloe belongs to me?" Chapter 1 Since I was a little girl, my only dream was to marry into high society. And today, it looked like it was actually happening. The water was running in the hotel bathroom. Harrison had me pinned against the steamed-up mirror, kissing me so deeply I could taste the expensive scotch on his breath. His breathing was ragged, a hectic flush spreading across his handsome face. It was obvious: someone had roofied him. Morality told me I shouldn't take advantage of a man in this state. But cold, hard logic told me I’d be an idiot not to. Harrison Vance was the ultimate prize. If I didn't take this shot, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. Especially since he was the one initiating it... But just as my hand settled on the leather belt around his waist, something bizarre happened. Lines of glowing text suddenly floated across my vision like a live stream chat: 【Stop, you dumb home-wrecker! He’s hallucinating. He thinks you're the main character, not the villain.】 【This side-piece is so shameless. If Harrison hadn't picked her name through a random lottery for the sponsorship, she wouldn't even be in this room. Now she thinks she’s going to go from rags to riches?】 【Don't worry, when he wakes up and realizes he slept with the wrong girl, he’s going to throw her to the sharks!!】 Thrown to the sharks? My hand trembled with fear, but Harrison grabbed it, holding it steady. His voice was hoarse as he whispered against my ear, coaxing me: "Baby, please. Help me." I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. But I was terrified of becoming shark bait. Breaking away from his grip, I shoved him into the bathroom and locked the door from the outside. Then, crying, I dialed Christopher’s number. "Chris, you have to come to the hotel. Now. Mr. Vance... I think someone drugged him." Waiting in the VIP hospital wing later that night, I kept my eyes on the floor, praying Harrison wouldn't remember what happened when he woke up. He already didn't care for me much. Christopher saw how anxious I was and tried to comfort me. "Don't be scared, Chloe. Mr. Vance is strong. He'll be fine." Before he could finish, the long lashes of the man on the bed fluttered. Harrison... was waking up. I gripped the hem of my dress, heart in my throat, trying to think of what to say, when an anxious female voice cut through the air— "Harrison!" A second later, I was shoved aside violently. I stumbled, nearly going down, but Christopher caught me just in time. It was Maya, his secretary, dressed in a sharp black blazer. She was already frantically opening her laptop bag, rambling about some minor emergency at the firm. Harrison leaned back against the pillows, rubbing his temples with his long fingers. He gave her a lazy, barely interested response. The text chat floating in my eyes spiked again— 【LOL, Maya is such a girl-boss. She loves work more than Harrison does. True main character energy!】 【Maya would get up from her deathbed to check stock options!】 【You guys don't get it. Harrison only admires successful, career-oriented women. Not like the pointless, ambitionless side-character. She's insufferable to look at.】 I rolled my eyes mentally. Okay, I get it, she’s great. Do you have to drag me to lift her up? People have different goals in life! Suddenly, my eyes caught a specific line in the chat: 【Is no one looking at Christopher in the corner? He’s been secretly in love with Chloe since freshman orientation. He finally got to hold her hand today to save her from falling. Bet he's on cloud nine right now.】 Christopher is in love with me?! Before I could process the shock, Harrison’s dark, fathomless eyes locked onto mine. His gaze shifted from my face down to my hand, which Christopher was still holding. His expression suddenly soured, his tone turning irritable. "How long do you two plan on making a scene in here?" Yes, irritable. I had realized a long time ago that Harrison particularly loathed me being near Christopher. We were both sponsored by him. Christopher was valedictorian material. I was the girl who fell asleep the second I opened a math textbook. When Harrison launched his foundation, he said he would help us find our respective paths in life before we turned twenty. In a pristine, glass-walled conference room, Harrison’s assistant had laid out various personalized life plans for us. I picked the "Marry Wealthy" plan immediately. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?" Harrison asked, leaning back, tapping a cigarette on his lighter. I was staring at his face, completely lost in his looks, and my true thoughts slipped out. "I just want to marry a rich man like you." Predictably, he sneered. Through the drifting smoke, Harrison half-closed his eyes, scanning me from head to toe. "Breathtaking beauty, undeniable class, exceptional personal ability, and a powerful family background. A successful trophy wife needs at least two of those four things." "Which one do you have?" Back then, I was wearing a faded T-shirt and worn-out jeans, my hair dry and brassy. I looked completely out of place in his world. But I was stubborn. "How will I know if I don't try?" Harrison said nothing more. But his assistant murmured with obvious disappointment, "What a total waste of a sponsorship slot." And so, every day after that, Christopher worked tirelessly on finance cases and investment research, planning his entry into the business world. I, on the other hand, worked tirelessly on fashion trends and makeup techniques, planning my entry into high society. Over time, Harrison started looking at me more often. His gaze was strange, impossible to read. I allowed myself to think he didn't hate me as much anymore. Until the day I accidentally stumbled upon him reprimanding Christopher. Harrison was sitting imperiously behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he said, "Stay away from Chloe. You two are not walking the same path." From that moment on, I understood. Harrison was terrified that a "bad apple" like me would ruin the masterpiece he was carefully cultivating in Christopher. Harrison was discharged later that afternoon. Christopher offered to help me take him home. When Harrison heard this, he frowned with obvious displeasure. "Did you finish that market analysis I assigned you?" Christopher scratched his head awkwardly. "Not... not yet." Defeated, I had to take him home alone. Inside the town car, Harrison and I sat in the back. He was close. The clean, scent of cedarwood from his cologne filled my nose. It inexplicably reminded me of that hot, mirror-steaming kiss... I immediately rolled down the window halfway. I needed air. I also secretly watched Harrison’s reaction through the reflection. Since he woke up, he hadn't mentioned it once. It seemed he really didn't remember. That evening, I cooked a few light, healthy dishes. "Not much brainpower, a coward, but at least you can cook," Harrison remarked. He was unusually biting today. Sometimes, I really wanted to drug him. Just with something to shut him up permanently. As I was clearing the table, the floating text appeared again. 【To be fair, she really knows how to take care of him. And she’s gotten so much prettier over the last year. I actually support her marrying rich, as long as she stays away from Harrison.】 【Girl, look at Christopher instead. He might be broke now, but he’s Harrison’s protégé. His future is limitless!!】 【By the end of the book, Christopher opens his own firm. He’s making millions.】 I stared at the text, losing my train of thought. The rich men I currently had access to all had flaws. The loyal ones were too old; the young ones were too wild and slept around. Harrison was perfect in every aspect, but he would never want me. Thinking it over, Christopher was actually the best option I could realistically reach. He was always good to me. But if I wanted to be with Christopher... I’d probably have to get through Harrison first. Perhaps encouraged by the text, I glanced at his study. The light was still on. I put on some flawless makeup, then knocked on the study door. A short "Come in" followed. Harrison was working and didn't even look up. I gathered my courage and called his name. "Mr. Vance..." Only a single desk lamp lit the room. He finally looked up. I gripped the hem of my dress, looking directly at him. "Do you think I'm beautiful now?" Harrison was silent for a long moment, his Adam's apple moving slightly. "...You're alright." My cheeks flushed hot, but I kept going. "Then, do you think I can marry into wealth now?" Another long silence. He stared at me with an unreadable expression before giving an ambiguous answer. "Maybe." I was shocked. Harrison didn't immediately shoot me down. Emboldened, my eyes lit up. "Then, do you think Christopher and I make a good match?" Harrison’s warm gaze instantly turned to ice. "So, the rich man you want to marry is Christopher?" Chapter 2 "So, the rich man you want to marry is Christopher?" When those words came out of Harrison’s mouth, the desk lamp flickered. It wasn't because the bulb was bad; his hand had slammed down on the base of the lamp. I didn't notice that detail. My mind was too busy trying to figure out how to say this right. "Christopher has great character, he's driven, and he treats me—" "I asked you," Harrison interrupted me, his voice not loud, but the study was so quiet I could hear myself swallow, "if the man you want to marry is Christopher." It wasn't a question anymore. It was a demand for confirmation. I nodded. Harrison said nothing. He turned and pulled a tan accordion file from the very bottom shelf of the bookcase. He threw the file onto the desk with force. It hit so hard my phone slid to the edge, nearly falling off. "Open it to page fourteen." I stood frozen for two seconds before opening the file. It was the original sponsorship agreement I had signed years ago. To be honest, I never read it. It was twenty pages of dense legalese; I would have fallen asleep by the second line. Page fourteen, section three. "During the term of sponsorship, the recipient must obtain written consent from the sponsor for any major life decisions, including, but not limited to, the establishment of romantic relationships." I read that sentence three times. Then I looked up at Harrison. "This can't be right." "What’s not right?" "The life plan you set for me was to marry rich," I pointed to the other plan in the file, "yet this says I need your written permission to date—so do you want me to get married or not?" Harrison reached for his pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and clicked his lighter twice. No flame. He threw the lighter down and kept the unlit cigarette between his fingers. "Christopher does not qualify as 'wealthy'." "Then who does?" "We’ll talk about that when he actually makes something of himself." I let out a frustrated laugh. "Mr. Vance, what kind of man do you actually want me to marry?" He didn't answer. "Or—" I took a step forward, testing the waters, "do you just not want me to marry anyone at all?" The study went silent for a very long time. It was so long I didn't think he would ever answer. Harrison put the unlit cigarette back into the pack, closed the lid, and tapped his fingers twice on the surface of the box. When he spoke, it was a complete non-sequitur. "That lipstick you're wearing today. Don't wear it again." I stood my ground. He hadn't looked at me once since I came in. How did he know I was wearing lipstick? The text chat floated by again. 【He saw her the second she came in. The lamp flickered because his hand shook when he realized she had made herself up for him.】 【The sponsorship agreement clauses contradict each other. Harrison knew that when he wrote them. It’s a logical trap—she can never get married because he will never agree to anyone.】 I stared at the text, a cold chill slowly creeping up my spine. This agreement was a cage from the very beginning. The next day, I asked Christopher to meet me. The coffee shop was just outside the university's east gate. It was a tiny hole-in-the-wall; our knees nearly hit the table legs when we sat down. Christopher arrived wearing a new button-down shirt. The creases from the packaging were still visible; he clearly just bought it. After sitting down, he stirred his coffee three times but didn't take a sip. I didn't drink mine either. "Chris, I need to ask you something." "Shoot." "Do you think... you and I are a good fit?" The spoon in his coffee stopped moving. He didn't look at me. His ears turned a brilliant red, spreading to the tips. It wasn't a shy pink; it was the deep red of holding something in for too long that was suddenly exposed. "Chloe, why are you asking this so suddenly—" "Just wondering." He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He started stirring the coffee again, twice as fast as before. The text chat exploded in my eyes. 【Christopher has been in love with her since freshman orientation. During military drills, he stood in the third row, she was in the first, and he stared at the back of her head for seven days straight.】 【The last line of his senior thesis acknowledgments originally read, "And to Ms. Chloe Evans, for being the light in my darkest days." Harrison saw it and made him change it to "To all who helped me."】 【Do you guys know why he brings her breakfast every time they meet? Because she nearly fainted from low blood sugar in the cafeteria once freshman year, and he's never let her skip a meal since.】 I looked at the boy across from me, who was stirring his coffee so hard he was practically drilling a hole through the cup. He loved me. It wasn't just the word "crush" that the text used. It was four years of hot soy milk at the cafeteria entrance every morning. It was never saying no when I asked for help. It was coming to meet me today, even though Harrison had warned him off and he was clearly terrified. My original plan was to confirm his feelings and then team up with him to negotiate terms with Harrison. But sitting here, watching him unable to even form a complete sentence because he was so nervous, that plan suddenly felt disgusting. I was using him. I was using four years of sincere devotion as a bargaining chip. "Chris," I stood up, the chair screeching harshly against the floor. "I just remembered I have to be somewhere." He snapped his head up. "You deserve someone who actually loves you back," I said, grabbing my purse, unable to look him in the eye. "That’s not me." Pushing open the glass door of the coffee shop, the outside wind rushed in. I walked ten or fifteen paces before my phone buzzed. It wasn't Christopher. It was Harrison. No text. Just a photo. It was a side profile shot of Christopher and me sitting across the table. The angle was from across the street. It was so sharp I could see the foam art in my cup. I stood on the curb, my thumb hovering over the screen for five seconds. Then I typed: "Good shot. Want me to pose next time?" Harrison replied instantly. "No need. I already saved the one where you're smiling." I hadn't smiled the entire time. Which photo did he save? I stared at that text for a long time. "I already saved the one where you're smiling." I definitely hadn't smiled in the coffee shop today. Either he was lying, or the photo he saved wasn't from today. The thought made my skin crawl. I didn't reply. I shoved the phone back into my purse and walked quickly back to the university. By the time I returned to Harrison’s townhome, it was 7:00 PM. The living room lights were off. There was an extra pair of women’s high heels next to the shoe rack in the entryway. Black, stiletto heels, a size larger than mine. I changed into my slippers and walked in. The dining room lights were on. Maya, Harrison’s secretary, was sitting at the table. A file was spread open in front of her, and an untouched glass of water sat next to it. When she saw me, her expression was calm. It wasn't the calm of someone waiting for a person; it was the calm of a judge waiting to deliver a verdict she already knew. "Ms. Evans, please, have a seat." I didn't sit. "Where’s Mr. Vance?" "Mr. Vance is out of town on business. His flight just took off." She pushed the file towards me. "This is the termination notice for your sponsorship agreement. Mr. Vance has already signed it. You have one week to move out." I looked down at the termination notice. The formatting was very formal—company letterhead, serial number, date. At the very bottom was Harrison’s electronic signature. The reason for termination read: "Recipient has substantially achieved the development goals; sponsorship relationship naturally concludes." I read every word. Then I flipped to page two, page three. "Ms. Evans, do you need me to explain any of the clauses?" Maya’s voice was steady. Too steady. I had seen her report to Harrison. She spoke fast, was organized, and would occasionally swallow nervously under Harrison’s gaze. But sitting here, facing me alone, she was far more composed than she ever was with him. "Maya," I laid the file down, "the reason says 'development goals substantially achieved'." "Yes." "My agreement stated the conclusion criteria as 'marrying into high society'." I looked her in the eye. "I haven't married anyone yet. How is it achieved?" Maya’s finger twitched. A tiny movement; her index finger lifted slightly from the table and dropped back down, as if she had been pricked. "Ms. Evans, development goals and conclusion criteria are not the same concept. Mr. Vance believes your current personal cultivation has—" "Mr. Vance believes?" I interrupted. "Or you believe?" The dining room went silent for a few seconds. I pulled out my phone to call Harrison. "His phone is off," Maya was faster than me. "You won't reach him until he lands." "Then I’ll wait." "The one-week notice starts tomorrow," Maya stood up, picking up her glass. "I suggest you start looking for a new place." As she walked to the entryway to change her shoes, I opened the original sponsorship agreement—the tan accordion file Harrison had pulled from the shelf last night. It was still on his desk. I read it from beginning to end. On the very last page, in the bottom right corner, was a line of handwritten text. The handwriting was Harrison’s; I knew his hard, angular script. "This project has no set expiration date." By the time I grabbed the agreement and ran out, Maya was gone. The clicking sound of her high heels on the steps outside grew fainter and fainter. I took a picture of the handwritten line and texted it to Harrison. I wrote: "Your handwritten note says 'no set expiration date,' your secretary says I move out in a week. Which of you runs this show?" The message was sent, shown as delivered. No "read" receipt. Of course not; he was on a plane. The text chat floated by just then, a single line. 【Maya forged Harrison’s electronic signature. She has authorization to sign business documents on his behalf, but a sponsorship agreement is not a business document.】 I put the phone down and re-examined the signature on the termination notice. Then I opened the photo Harrison had texted me earlier—the one in the coffee shop. I zoomed in on the bottom right corner, on the watermark. Harrison didn't take that photo. The watermark had a tiny logo. It was the brand of Maya’s phone case. I didn't sleep at all that night. It wasn't out of fear. I was thinking about one thing: Why did Maya want to kick me out? If it was Harrison’s idea, he didn't need to use his secretary. He could have told me to my face in the study last night. If it wasn't Harrison’s idea... for a secretary to forge her boss's signature to kick out someone he was sponsoring—that takes incredible nerve. Unless she had a reason more important than keeping her job. Around 4:00 AM, the text appeared again. 【Maya has been secretly in love with Harrison for six years. Since the first day she started as an intern.】 【She used to think she knew Harrison better than anyone. Until Chloe Evans arrived. Harrison started changing his schedule for a poor student, pushing meetings, even cooking for her—things he had never done for anyone.】 I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. So this wasn't a business move. It was a jealousy move. At 7:00 AM, I didn't pack a single bag. I went to the kitchen and made coffee and breakfast. Then I sat at the dining room table and waited. At 8:10 AM, Harrison’s plane landed. At 8:43 AM, my phone rang. Harrison. I didn't answer. I texted him: "Breakfast first. Coffee is on the counter, food is on the table." At 9:30 AM, the front door opened. Harrison walked in, carrying his blazer. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. He looked more like he hadn't slept than I did; the left side of his shirt collar was messed up, standing askew. He looked at the food on the table, then at me. "You're still here." "Why wouldn't I be?" He draped his coat over the back of a chair and sat down. He picked up his fork, took a bite of eggs, and chewed slowly. "That thing Maya gave you. I saw it." "You saw it, but you have nothing to say?" "I was on a plane." "And after you landed?" Harrison put his fork down. "After I landed, I made a phone call." "To who?" "To Maya." When he said her name, his tone was flat, like he was remarking on the weather. "Her signing authority was revoked as of this morning. The termination notice is void." I let out a breath, but only halfway. "And the photo?" Harrison’s hand paused for a second as he reached for his coffee. "What photo?" "The one in the coffee shop. You texted 'I already saved the one where you're smiling'—Maya took that photo, not you. Right?" I pushed my phone towards him, zoomed in on the watermark. Harrison looked at it for three seconds. Then he did something I completely didn't expect. He flipped my phone over, screen-down, onto the table. "She took the photo." "And the text? Did she send the text too?" "I sent the text." "So you looked at a photo she took of me, and then used your own phone to text me that sentence?" "Yes." "Don't you think that’s incredibly—" "Incredibly what?" I swallowed the words. I was going to say "incredibly creepy." But I couldn't say it looking at him. He wasn't aggressive, or cold. He was watching me with an intensity that was almost... honest. Like he didn't feel he had done anything wrong. Like in his mind, monitoring where I went, saving photos of me, stopping me from marrying someone else—it was all perfectly logical. The text floated by just then. 【Harrison remembers everything from the bathroom incident. He’s been waiting for Chloe to admit it herself.】 The fork in my hand clattered onto the table, bounced, and rolled onto the floor. Harrison looked down at the fork. "Why are you nervous?" "I’m... I’m not." "Then why are your hands shaking?" I hid my hands under the table. He didn't press the issue and went back to his breakfast. After a few bites, without looking up, he said one more thing. "Next time you do your makeup, don't use that shade of lipstick Christopher complimented you on. Use a different color." I had never told him Christopher had complimented my lipstick.
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