Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lila Carter and I were frenemies-turned-besties—we bonded through a fight. Our first meeting landed both of us in the hospital, and the reason was absurdly dramatic. As a wealthy heiress, she accused me of seducing her dad to ruin her parents’ marriage. It turned out to be a huge misunderstanding.

Somehow, we clicked after that. Every time we met, we’d paint the town red at bars—drinking till we passed out, singing till our throats were hoarse and tears streamed down our faces.

In a corner of the bar, Lila tugged at my arm. “Babe, do me a favor? Please?”

“Depends. Spit it out.” A sudden chill ran down my spine.

“Please just date someone! I’m begging you! You’re 27 already—if you wait any longer, you’ll be past your prime!” She burst into tears, wailing like she’d lost her mom.

“Fine, fine, I will.” To avoid making a scene, I hauled the dead-drunk Lila out of the bar.

As we stepped outside, a man approached, swept Lila into his arms, and muttered, “Thanks. Catch you later” before hurrying off. Watching the usually composed man hold her so tenderly, I thought, What a beautiful love story. That man was Elias Moore, Lila’s childhood sweetheart—they’d gone from schoolmates to spouses, a true fairy tale.

Where’s my love, though? I trudged down the street, the night wind nipping at my skin. I shivered, but my head felt clearer.

“Sister (Sweetheart)?”

I didn’t think the voice was calling me—I’d never been the “protagonist type.” But it was so melodious, and as an audiophile, my heart fluttered. I slowed down, hoping to hear more, but silence followed. Instead, I heard steady footsteps approaching.

I turned—and a handsome face filled my vision. His skin was pale, his features weren’t overly delicate, but he was devastatingly attractive—exactly my type. His proportions were perfect too. It was the first time I’d met someone who checked every box on my “ideal partner” list. My calm, stagnant heart suddenly raced.

“Y-you… talking to me?” I stammered, surprised at my own nervousness.

“Tsk, a little stutterer.” He quirked an eyebrow, teasing me lightly.

“W-what do you want?” I clutched the hem of my clothes, anxious.

“Can I get your contact? You’re pretty—I want to get to know you.” He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, opened an app, and held it up. A clear QR code glowed brightly, almost blinding in the dark.

How could I say no? Inside, I was screaming like a fan girl, but I forced a calm expression. After adding him, I mumbled “goodbye” and left.

I didn’t see him snort softly behind me: “A fake vixen? More like a shy little rabbit.” He’d noticed how tightly I’d clutched my clothes, how my “calm” was just a front. Plenty of time, he thought.