At nineteen, my life was a relentless cycle of work to scrape together tuition. Who knew a single accident would plunge me into a world I was never meant to enter? In the hushed VIP lounge, a man radiated effortless privilege—devastatingly handsome, like a marble-carved god. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a black credit card spinning toward me. It was his girlfriend’s rejected card, landing on my uniform like a calculated insult. For a split second, my eyes lit up. Then I froze. Before me, eerie glowing captions shimmered in the air: [LOL, does this waitress think the male lead is into her?] [This is just a lovers’ spat. She’s collateral damage.] [Our girl Mia is upset he only throws money at problems.] [Don’t worry—he’ll make it up to her with a Winston Blue diamond later~] [Why is this rando still standing there? Grab the card and go!] [Stay in your lane, girl.] I lifted my gaze to the couple locked in their silent battle. Why wasn’t I leaving? Duh—he hadn’t given me the PIN. 1 Right now, that little piece of plastic lay at my feet, feeling as dangerous as a live wire. Eason Astor and Mia Stone were still locked in their standoff, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife. One was the golden boy, born with a silver spoon and the world at his feet. The other, the penniless, innocent girl he’d fallen for at first sight. It was a perfect romance novel setup. Finally, Eason’s patience snapped. His gaze, sharp with irritation, landed back on me. "Why are you still here?" The annoyance in his voice was raw. He couldn't unleash it on the woman he loved, so a nobody like me became the perfect target. Before I could speak, Mia, the woman across from him, let out a bitter laugh. "See, Eason? Even the waitress finds your little 'money-is-the-answer' routine disgusting." Her words were a double-edged sword, meant to mock him and humiliate me in one fell swoop. Eason’s face darkened instantly. [OMG he’s furious! He loves her so much! The possessiveness is off the charts!] [So sweet! Our Mia is the only one who dares to talk to him like that!] [Warning: high-stakes drama ahead! The female lead is about to storm out in a jealous fit, the male lead will chase her, and things are about to get steamy!] Amidst the chorus of [So sweet!] from the floating text, I bent down. Not to pick up the card. Instead, I offered Eason, his face a thunderous mask, a perfect ninety-degree bow. "Thank you," I said. I straightened up, meeting his stunned gaze. My voice was more sincere than it had ever been in my life. "Mr. Astor, thank you for your generous grant. I promise every cent of this money will go toward my education." The entire room fell into a dead silence. The captions flickered and froze for a second. Ignoring his bewildered expression, I pulled my student ID and driver's license from the pocket of my uniform apron and presented them with both hands. "I'm a sophomore in the finance department at Ashton University. My name is Chloe. These are my credentials." "A million dollars is no small sum. I will write you a formal IOU. And if you need, I am available at any time to cooperate with you or your family's foundation for any 'targeted philanthropy' interviews you might require for PR purposes." My words were crisp and clear, delivered like a corporate report. Eason was utterly dumbfounded. He shot a subconscious glance at Mia and saw exactly what he expected: her face was drained of color, her eyes wide with disbelief. He cleared his throat, a muscle ticking in his jaw, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile. "That won't be necessary. It's nothing." Despite his words, he pulled out his phone and, right in front of Mia, opened a new contact screen. "But your mention of an interview gives me an idea. Add my number. You never know when the company might need some good press you could help with." Mia's expression shifted from pale white to a furious red, finally settling on a shade of deep, mortified shame. She bit her lip so hard it had to hurt, watching as Eason and I exchanged numbers. Her glare was so intense it felt like she was trying to carve a piece out of me with her eyes. "You're unbelievable, Eason," she spat. She snatched her purse off the table and, with that parting shot, stormed out of the room. 2 The door slammed shut with a resounding bang. Eason’s expression was grim. He took a half-step, instinct telling him to go after her. But I moved first, stepping sideways to block his path. He frowned down at me, the irritation practically boiling in his eyes. "What do you want now?" I ignored his tone, looking at him calmly and asking a question that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Mr. Astor, that card… it was meant for her, wasn't it?" I didn't wait for an answer. "I'm accepting it because my tuition for next semester is due, I have younger siblings to support back home, and I'm at the end of my rope." "A million dollars might be a small number to you, but to me, it's a lifeline." My voice was quiet, but every word was crystal clear. "But for a girl who isn't struggling for money, it's just humiliating." I met his gaze, which was now flickering with shock. "She'll think you're no different from all those other shallow men who think money can solve everything." Eason fell completely silent. The storm in his eyes slowly subsided, replaced by a flicker of confusion. After a long moment, he swallowed hard and, almost against his will, asked, "So what do you suggest I do?" I bent down, picked up the thin piece of plastic from the floor, and held it out to him. "If you want her to see you're different, then stop doing things that any rich guy could do." Eason looked down at the card in my hand, his expression thoughtful. When I left the lounge that night, Eason had insisted I take the card. He even gave me the PIN. Rich people, I thought wryly, always have a trick up their sleeve. If I hadn't pushed my luck and stayed those few extra minutes, if I hadn't spelled it all out for him, this card would have been nothing more than a useless piece of plastic in my hand. Back in the staff locker room, I changed out of my cheap uniform. As I pulled my textbooks from my locker, a worn-out notebook fell to the floor. I picked it up and opened it. The pages were crammed with notes, all about Eason Astor: how often he came to the club, how much he spent, what he drank. And the one name he would mutter over and over again when he'd had too much. Mia. But he was the prey I had been stalking for so long. A small smile touched my lips. I ripped those pages from the notebook, tore them into tiny pieces, and tossed them into the trash. From that day on, Eason came to the club more often, always requesting me as his server. But every single time, he came up empty. I was never there. 3 I turned slowly, squinting into the glare. A tall, slender figure stood silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun. The light was blinding, but I didn’t even blink. "Then perhaps you'd like to demonstrate, Mr. Astor?" I said calmly, dusting the chalk from my hands. He seemed taken aback by my reaction. He paused, then cleared his throat and pronounced the word in a flawless, crisp British accent. "Apple." The pronunciation was perfect, dripping with the kind of casual superiority that comes from a lifetime of privilege. For a family like his, a bilingual upbringing was standard. The authentic accent others might spend years trying to master was just his everyday normal. A chorus of oohs and aahs rose from the children around me. They all agreed he said it much better than I did. A smirk played on his lips, clearly pleased with the effect. He finally turned his full attention back to me. "What are you doing here?" he asked, then seemed to remember. "Oh, right. Your manager at the club told me. Said this is where you always are when you're not working." I didn't say anything. I just bent down and began quietly gathering the flashcards and worn-out books from the dusty ground. Only after the last card was tucked away in my canvas tote did I look up and meet his eyes directly. "Did the manager only tell you I come here? Or did he also mention I'm an orphan, and that when I'm not working, this is the only place I have to go?" The smugness on Eason's face vanished, replaced by a flash of awkwardness he couldn't quite hide. But I didn't give him time to dwell on it. I cut straight to the chase. "So, Mr. Astor. Tell me about you and your girlfriend. How are things?" [Dude, why are you telling all this to a random side character?] [She’s appeared twice now. Something’s not right. I bet she’s the secret second female lead.] [Shut up, you guys. I live for this kind of drama. Go on!] My directness seemed to have pierced his pretense. He dropped the act. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to justify his presence. "You took my money. The least you could do is offer a little gratitude and help me with a problem, right?" He leaned against the old oak tree in the center of the yard, his voice laced with defeat. "She hasn't contacted me at all. I heard… I heard she's been spending a lot of time with the student council president." I just let out a soft laugh. "Mr. Astor, have you ever stopped to wonder why you always hear about it the second Mia gets close to another man?" Eason froze. The confusion in his eyes was instantly replaced by a spark of understanding. He wasn't stupid, just blinded by his own emotions. The storm was back in his deep-set eyes. He stared at me as if I were his last hope. "So… what do I do?" I slung the tote bag over my shoulder and stepped into the sunlight, my words clear and deliberate. "It's simple." "Make her realize that jealousy games won't work on you anymore." I watched the shock register in his eyes before delivering the final blow. "Only sincerity will." 4 Eason was silent for a long time. So long that the kids from the yard ran back over, tugging at my shirt and asking when I’d be back again. I smiled and ruffled their hair, promising I’d return next week. It wasn't until the children had scattered that Eason finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "Ashton University is having its anniversary ball this Saturday. You… will you be my date?" He seemed to have summoned a great deal of courage to ask; the tips of his ears were pink. I laughed coldly to myself but put on a hesitant expression. "I'm just a waitress who works at a club. I'd probably just embarrass you at an event like that." "You won't," he cut in. "It's settled." He paused, then, as if trying to regain control of the situation, he gave me a searching look. "Wait, you're an Ashton student too?" "Yes. Finance department, freshman year," I answered smoothly. The confusion in his eyes deepened. "I thought Ashton's full-ride scholarships covered all tuition and basic living expenses. How are you still…" He trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. I lowered my head, and at that exact moment, a breeze rustled past, lifting the cuff of my faded, worn-out shirt. For a split second, an ugly, jagged scar on my wrist was exposed. Eason's pupils contracted sharply. I pulled my sleeve down as if nothing had happened, avoiding his question. "I'll see you on Saturday, Mr. Astor," I said softly. … Saturday night, the Ashton University auditorium was ablaze with lights. When I walked in on Eason's arm, nearly every head in the room turned. My dress was the simplest white slip gown imaginable. It made me look frail, almost ethereal, but clean. [Oh damn, they’re wearing the same color. This is gonna be good.] [Is Chloe doing this on purpose? Such a copycat.] [You guys know nothing. I saw her backstage. She borrowed that dress from the event staff. The tag is still on it.] Almost as soon as the captions appeared, Mia came striding toward us, her face a mask of fury. She was also in a white dress—a designer piece from the latest haute couture collection that made her look like a proud, untouchable princess. And I, next to her, looked like a cheap imitation. It was ironic, really. Before she met Eason, she was just like me, a scholarship student juggling jobs to make ends meet. Now look at her, draped in luxury, with a man like Eason wrapped around her finger. Maybe we weren't so different after all. I let go of Eason's arm and gave her a polite nod. "Hello, Mia." Her response was the sharp crack of a slap across my face. A searing pain exploded on my left cheek before I even had time to process what had happened. Mia’s shrill voice cut through the ballroom buzz. "Chloe, are you addicted to copying me? Does it give you some kind of sick thrill to steal things that belong to other people?" Her words were a clear double entendre. The murmurs of the crowd instantly swelled around me, drowning me in their judgment. The stares—scorn, amusement, pity—pricked at me like a thousand tiny needles. I cupped my stinging cheek, but I met her gaze calmly. "You've misunderstood. I just borrowed a white dress from the event staff for the ball." I glanced around the room. "If wearing white is considered copying you, if it's not allowed, then does that mean every other student here in a white dress deserves to be slapped? Does that mean none of them have the right to be here tonight?" Mia's face turned a blotchy, furious red. She was trembling with rage, raising her hand to strike me again. But this time, a hand shot out and caught her wrist mid-air. It was Eason. Mia stared at him in disbelief, tears instantly welling in her eyes. "Eason, why…?" she choked out. "Why are you always defending her?" Eason's face was tight with anger. I was his date, and this public spectacle was humiliating for him. "Stop making a scene! It's just a dress. Who cares who wears what? Does everyone have to be different from you?" "Anyone else can," Mia shrieked, "but not her!" 计费点 5 Mia glared at me with pure hatred, then violently wrenched her arm from Eason’s grasp and ran out of the auditorium, sobbing. Once again, I was the center of everyone's attention. I gave the man frozen beside me a gentle nudge. "Aren't you going after her?" I offered a helpless smile. "Now's the perfect time to clear things up." I smoothed down my dress. "I should head back to my dorm." But Eason didn't move. He looked at my swollen cheek, his voice hesitant. "Your face…" I shrugged, forcing a lightness I didn't feel, and joked in a voice only he could hear, "It's fine. The million dollars you gave me should cover a few more slaps, I think." Then, fighting back the sting in my eyes, I turned to leave. I hadn't taken more than a few steps before a firm, warm hand closed around my wrist. I looked up, feigning surprise, and met his dark, unreadable eyes. They were churning with a storm of emotions I couldn't decipher—guilt, regret, and something that looked suspiciously like… concern. "If I let you walk out of here alone like this, that would be the real injustice," Eason said, his voice low and serious. Before I could respond, the world tilted. In front of everyone, he swept me off my feet and into his arms. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of shocked whispers. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in the warmth of his chest. The familiar, crisp scent of pine and expensive cologne enveloped me, shielding me from the prying eyes. [Has he lost his mind? He’s not chasing Mia, he’s carrying this manipulative girl?] [I’m gonna be sick. Chloe is a master manipulator. A slap in exchange for a princess-carry? Worth it.] [Are they actually a thing? If so, poor Mia…] The captions continued to rage on Mia's behalf. But hidden against his chest, I allowed myself a small, triumphant smile. Eason carried me through half the campus to the parking garage and gently placed me in the passenger seat of his Maybach. The car finally came to a stop in the underground garage of a high-end downtown apartment building. His home. Inside, Eason retrieved an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a soft towel, and carefully pressed it against my swollen cheek. The cold made me hiss softly in spite of myself. His movements instantly became even gentler. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low. "I handled that badly. You didn't deserve that." I shook my head, my eyes downcast, my voice as soft as a feather. "It's not your fault. Mia… she just cares about you so much. It's only natural she'd get jealous seeing me with you." A wronged woman, showing magnanimous understanding at the perfect moment. As expected, Eason fell silent. His brow was furrowed, his eyes clouded with a deep-seated frustration. After a long moment, he said quietly, almost to himself, "She… she didn't use to be like this."
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