This time, a cold fury flashed through me.
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I was done playing nice.
When he came close, I sidestepped quickly and used a bit of leverage to shove his bike.
The force sent the dirt bike screeching into the middle of the road.
He tried to steady himself, but he lost control and crashed, skidding across the pavement
with a loud wail.
The street descended into chaos, with cars screeching to a halt and onlookers gathering around to see what had happened.
I stood there, calm but seething, watching as the little punk rolled on the ground, clutching his leg and howling in pain.
6
I turned and walked away without lingering.
For most people, this might have been a huge deal.
But for me? This kind of thing? I’d seen worse when I was living abroad.
A punk on a dirt bike trying to take my life? Please. That’s insulting.
When I got home, I called Christopher.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I’ll take care of it,” he said.
“How long will it take?” I asked.
“Three days, tops,” he replied crisply.
“Fine,” I said. “If it’s not handled in three days, I’ll take care of it myself.”
In this marriage of convenience, I’d always played the passive role–the obedient, naïve doll who let others pull the strings.
Even Christopher had teased me for it once.
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“Hannah, can’t you stand up for yourself for once?” he’d said, laughing.
I’d actually thought about his question.
Fight for what, exactly?
I didn’t understand business or have the mind for it. The money my family gave me needed someone to manage it.
Christopher was the “perfect son–in–law” my father had hand–picked after careful deliberation. The family’s empire was vast and intricately connected. If one part crumbled,
the whole structure would feel the strain.
Money doesn’t just fall from the sky, after all.
Dealing with this situation was simply a matter of suppressing the trending news and
issuing a PR statement.
I trusted Christopher to handle it.
All he had to do was pacify Evelyn and publicly claim I was some distant relative he was looking out for. That would be enough to smooth things over.
Then, he could explain the situation to my father and brother later.
The priority was putting out the fire now.
But Christopher didn’t take the easy route..
Instead, he held a press conference.
He stood in front of the media and announced that his entire relationship with Evelyn had been part of a marketing campaign for Gray Group’s products.
He even went so far as to say, “I never loved Evelyn.”
The fallout was immediate.
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The fairytale romance everyone had admired crumbled into nothing, exposed as a lie.
Of course, in this chaos, Christopher didn’t reveal my identity.
But at this point, no one cared about me anymore.
I’d always been nothing more than a prop in Christopher and Evelyn’s love story.
Their whirlwind romance had dominated headlines, with citywide fireworks and livestreamed proposals. And now, all of it was being dismissed as nothing more than a publicity stunt.
No passion. No love.
Just business.
68%1
After that, Christopher let the media frenzy die down.
Conveniently, another scandal broke in the entertainment world–a powerful mogul caught up in a salacious affair.
The headlines shifted almost overnight, and the internet turned its attention to dissecting that new drama instead.
The Gray Group scandal was quickly buried.
Everyone moved on.
Well, everyone except Evelyn.
She broke down completely.
She cried, screamed, and threatened to end her life, unable to accept the humiliation.
7
I saw Evelyn again a week later.
Once again, she came to me.
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The girl who had once been adored by everyone–the darling of the universe, envied by all–was now pale, haggard, and utterly defeated.
She looked lost.
Standing at my door in such a sorry state, I grabbed a pair of shoe covers, handed them
to her, and invited her inside.
The weather was bitterly cold, and she was wearing nothing but a thin, slightly worn sweater. Once inside, she curled up on the couch, trembling.
I poured her a cup of hot water.
Holding the cup tightly in her hands, she stayed silent for a long time before finally looking up to ask me, “Why?”
I thought for a moment before replying, “What outcome are you hoping for?”
“Do you want Christopher to lose all sense of reason and kill me? Or maybe take down the other women in his life?”
My words hit Evelyn like a slap in the face.
She jumped to her feet and yelled at me, “Yes! He should destroy you and every single one of those scheming women who’ve crawled into his bed, trying to get their hands on his money!”
“You’re all gold diggers!”
“You don’t love him! None of you do! You only want his wealth!”
“Why can’t he see that? He told me–he said he loves me! He said he wanted all of me!”
“He’s so gentle, so caring, so perfect. How could you do this to him?”
Her words tumbled out, incoherent and full of fury.
I let her vent for a long time before finally speaking.
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68%.
“Miss Reed,” I said calmly, “the orphanage needs his sponsorship. Your friends need his sponsorship.”
“You’ve already gotten what you wanted. Why chase after something as fleeting and intangible as love?”
“There’s no such thing as love in this world. Men and women, when they reach a certain age, invent the illusion of love as a convenient excuse to justify their desires for companionship and reproduction. That’s all it is.”
“Just live your life. Don’t make a scene.”
I figured that as long as Evelyn didn’t invest too much of herself into this game of romance, she could still find her version of happiness–a life full of wealth and comfort.
What’s wrong with that?
Evelyn slumped back onto the couch, silent for a while before muttering, “He’s withdrawn the sponsorship for the orphanage.”
“And he broke Mark’s leg, leaving him crippled.”
Mark was the bleached–haired punk who had tried to run me down with his bike. He’d grown up in the same orphanage as Evelyn.
I’d done some digging in the past few days. Evelyn, with her beauty and her knack for manipulation, had managed to gain a loyal following among the boys at the orphanage. They were unruly and hard to control, but they listened to her.
They treated her like their leader, willing to do anything for her.
The day Mark crashed his bike, he’d only broken his leg–nothing life–threatening. A cast and some rest, and he’d be fine.
But actions have consequences.
He’d pulled a stunt that low, so a price had to be paid.
All I wanted was one of his legs. It wasn’t like I’d asked for his life.
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“He’s still just a kid, and now he’s crippled,” Evelyn said, her gaze piercing. “Hannah, aren’t you afraid of karma?”
I chuckled. Karma? What’s that?
If karma really existed, why did my father and brother get to live lives of endless wealth and privilege?
I unlocked my phone and handed it to Evelyn, showing her a photo.
“Miss Reed, whether we’re talking about who came first or legal rights, you are, in fact,
the ‘other woman.”
“And as far as I know, you were the one who initiated things with Christopher–seducing him with your charm, all for the sake of securing sponsorships for the orphanage.”
“As for Mark, he tried to run me down on your orders. His injury? That’s karma.”
Evelyn stared at the photo on my phone, her pupils trembling as if an earthquake had just
shaken her world.
After a moment, her voice quivered.
“You… you two are married?”
