Chapter 1 When I turned 32, my mother finally launched an indiscriminate, full-scale marriage-pressure campaign against me. I swiftly broke up with my supermodel boyfriend of four years, packed my bags, and moved back to my hometown. My best friend was aghast: "Are you crazy? I thought you were obsessed with Liam's face and body? You're really willing to let that go?" I scoffed: "I'm not an idiot. Dating a guy like him for a thrill is fine, but if I actually married him, what would my life be? Spending the rest of my days catching him cheating and then forgiving him?" Just as the words left my mouth, a voice as cold as ice, yet incredibly familiar, came from behind me. "Chloe, is that your reason for dumping me?" Dragging my suitcase back to the apartment Liam and I shared, I bumped right into a woman walking out. She was wearing a flimsy camisole with Liam's silk dress shirt draped loosely over it. She was barefoot, holding a pair of limited-edition high heels in one hand. I recognized her. She was a new, up-and-coming designer Liam had recently collaborated with. Her name was Ellie, barely twenty, practically radiating youth. I instinctively took a step back, hiding in the shadows of the elevator lobby. A few seconds later, Liam followed her out. He had only a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still dripping wet, and his skin was flushed. He leaned against the doorframe, lit a slim cigarette, and looked lazy and exhausted. A moment later, he casually tossed an unopened, latest-model designer watch box toward her. "Take it." Ellie's eyes lit up instantly. She threw herself at Liam, hugging him and squealing, "Ahhh! Oh my god, it's the Starlight series! Liam, you're the best!" "Picked it up while I was in Milan for the shows." "I love you so much! Baby!" Ellie tried to kiss him. But Liam had run out of patience. He frowned slightly and turned his face away to avoid her. "Alright, hurry up and leave." The girl wasn't annoyed, speaking in a tone that was half-whining, half-complaining: "So ruthless, tossing me aside the moment you're done. You were just calling me your little vixen in bed." She happily hugged the new watch box and blew Liam a kiss before leaving: "I'm off. See you at the studio tomorrow." Only after she left did I step out from the shadows. Liam probably hadn't expected me to return from my business trip early. He froze for a second, but quickly resumed his usual nonchalant demeanor. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?" I stared at him for a moment. "My flight got changed. It was too late, I didn't want to wake you." The hickey on Liam's collarbone was glaringly fresh and ambiguous, yet he showed no remorse. He walked over, intending to take my suitcase. "You must be tired. I'll go run a bath for you." As he bent down, his towel loosened slightly, acting as if the scene I had just witnessed never happened. Seeing me standing still, he raised an eyebrow: "What's wrong?" Then understanding dawned on him, and a lazy smile touched his lips: "Missed me?" He leaned in close. He still carried the scent of body wash mixed with another woman's perfume. His hand skillfully slid under the hem of my shirt. "Then let's get down to business first, and then—" He was a runway model who worked out constantly. His fingertips had thin calluses, and when they brushed against my skin, they brought a tingling, numb itch. I closed my eyes and tiredly pushed him away. I have to admit, I was infatuated with Liam's body. The reason I pursued him in the first place was because I caught a glimpse of him backstage at a fashion show and was absolutely blown away. But maybe because I had just flown for over ten hours, or maybe because of the woman I just saw, right now I only felt nauseous. I had zero interest. Liam was rarely rejected by me. He froze for a moment, his face darkening slightly. "What kind of tantrum is this?" I looked down and saw a women's earring on the entryway rug that didn't belong to me. Liam clearly saw it too. He clicked his tongue, his expression turning impatient. The living room fell into a dead silence. He pulled another cigarette from the box and lit it, smoke swirling around him. "She's just a junior designer. She drank too much and had nowhere to go, so I let her crash here for a night." "We didn't do anything." Chapter 2 I looked at him. The white smoke separated our lines of sight, making it impossible to clearly see each other's expressions. But we both knew perfectly well how pathetic that excuse was. This wasn't Liam's first time cheating. He was probably born to live among a garden of women. When I met him, he was already like this. At the time, my company was organizing a high-end fashion collaboration. My best friend took me to meet the red-hot top supermodel, saying he had a unique aura but a terrible temper. I didn't have a good impression of models; I always felt they were just empty shells. Until Liam walked in. He was wearing a simple black turtleneck sweater, standing tall and straight, with a few stray hairs falling across his high, straight nose bridge. The moment he walked in, the air in the entire conference room seemed to freeze. That face, that body—he was the Creator's most biased masterpiece. He looked up, those deep eyes sweeping over us with careless detachment. I didn't hear a single word he said that day. My mind was entirely consumed with how to get him into my bed. After the meeting, countless people swarmed him trying to get his contact info, and he coldly rejected them all. Only I persistently cornered him in the parking garage. Single since birth for 26 years, that was the boldest moment of my entire life. Liam was probably annoyed by my pestering, or maybe he just found it novel. Anyway, I became his girlfriend. Right up until now. But I knew that for these six years, Liam had never truly loved me. Or perhaps, he loved me in his own way. He loved my independence, my understanding nature, my ability to handle his messy PR crises, and the fact that I never made a fuss about the endless gossip surrounding him. Every time I caught him, he'd throw out some random excuse, and I would forgive him. He once mocked me for living too rationally, saying I wasn't like a real woman. He also joked that one day, when he met his true soulmate, he would kick me to the curb. For these past few years, the relationship was entirely sustained by my unilateral tolerance. "You promised me you wouldn't bring anyone home again," I said, my voice very low, staring at the expensive earring. A flash of mockery appeared in Liam's eyes; he had absolutely no intention of coaxing me. "Since when did you become so uptight?" He leaned in close, blowing smoke into my face, his eyes full of malice: "Can't take it anymore?" "If you can't take it, then get out." He had said things like this countless times over the past four years. The ending was always the same: I would lower my head, apologize, hold him, and beg him not to be angry. Over time, he found my weak spot. He knew that as long as he said that, I couldn't do anything about it. I turned my head away: "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep." Liam grabbed my wrist. His brow bone was high; when he was expressionless, he always carried a sharp, oppressive aura. "Chloe, quit while you're ahead. Don't push your luck." I shook off his hand and went into the guest room. Not long after, an earth-shattering slam of the front door echoed through the apartment. Liam left. He was angry. I knew that. After all, between us, I was always the one compromising, the one doing the coaxing. I had never given him the cold shoulder like I did today. I rolled over and turned on my phone. In the family group chat, my mom sent another picture of a man: "Chloe, Auntie Li introduced this one. A college professor, steady and reliable. You're 32 this year; it's time to start thinking about the important things." Then I opened my work group chat. My boss tagged me: "Chloe, the new Brand Strategy Department at headquarters has just been established, and we're missing a director. I think your capabilities are a perfect fit. The resources and platform at headquarters are on a whole different level compared to the branch office. Think it over." My mom was calling me home for blind dates. The company wanted to promote me and send me back to headquarters, which happened to be right in my hometown. The timing, the location, the circumstances—it all lined up. It seemed I truly had no reason to stay in this city anymore. I sighed. To be honest, I really liked Liam. He was handsome enough, his body was hot enough, and we were a match made in heaven in bed. Most importantly, he was a total scumbag. Being with him was easy. I didn't have to think about the future, and I didn't have to be responsible for him. During those first few years in the corporate world when the pressure was crushing me, I just wanted someone to relieve the stress. But I was dead set on looks, picking and choosing until I met Liam. His best years were spent by my side. When I was tearing my hair out over KPIs, he used his body to comfort me through countless late nights. And even though he had a constant stream of women, he was somewhat particular—all his flings had to provide regular health checkups. I took all the necessary precautions, so I wasn't afraid of catching anything. It would probably be hard to find such a satisfying... bedmate again. But there was nothing I could do. Dating was one thing; getting married and living a life together was another. I liked Liam a lot. But I also knew very clearly that he wasn't the right person for me. Now, the game was over. Chapter 3 Liam didn't come home that night. For the next few days, he completely vanished. The messages I sent sank like a stone in the ocean. When I called, his phone was turned off. When I tried messaging him again, a red exclamation mark appeared. He had blocked me. The familiar cold shoulder. He had done this before. Liam was a master of the silent treatment. Every time, I had to rack my brain, go to his modeling agency, or stake out the gym he frequented to corner him, humbling myself to coax him before he would unblock me. But this time, I was busy handing over my work and didn't have time to play his games. That evening, as I was booking my flight back to headquarters, my phone rang. It was Liam's assistant. Through the phone, the deafening sound of club music and the laughter of men and women assaulted my ears. "Ms. Hastings, Liam drank too much. He's at the Rosemary Club. Could you come pick him up?" Liam loved clubbing. He came from a wealthy family; modeling was just an interest and a talent for him. I once asked him why he didn't just take over the family business. He scoffed, saying he couldn't be bothered to fight with all the mistresses and illegitimate children who were tearing each other apart for the inheritance. He knew his grandfather's and mother's shares would eventually be his anyway, so he just wanted to live his life exactly as he pleased. Liam had absolutely zero career ambition, and we were complete opposites in that regard. Whenever I landed a massive contract or got promoted and told him about it, he showed zero interest. He once disdainfully said that working myself half to death for that salary, which wouldn't even buy him a single watch, was pointless. I knew that down to our bones, we were not the same kind of people. Other than physical intimacy, we had nothing in common. I didn't understand his soul, and I only lusted after his body. He ignored my hard work, only accustomed to my compliance. That was fine. That way, when we parted, neither of us would feel heartbroken. I thought about it for a second and said yes. Putting the phone down, I glanced at my plane ticket: 10:00 AM, the day after tomorrow. I sighed. Actually, I didn't want to break up this quickly. Liam and I were truly synchronized in bed. The pressure from changing roles recently was immense, and I had originally wanted to have breakup sex one last time. I clicked my tongue, feeling it was a bit of a shame. But since the opportunity presented itself, I might as well go with the flow. ... When I arrived at the club, Liam was surrounded in the center of a booth. Men and women, all glamorous, all very beautiful, their faces full of youthful collagen. It was obvious they were all quite young. It made sense. Liam had money, looks, and spent generously. His playboy lifestyle seemed like just an extension of his carefree supermodel charm. I touched the fine lines at the corner of my eye, remembering what Liam had said in disgust before. "Chloe, you're 32. Can you please go get some treatments? Don't live so roughly." No wonder he was disgusted by me. Turns out he was surrounded by girls in their early twenties. I didn't speak. I stood outside the crowd, my eyes meeting Liam's. He acted like he didn't see me and quickly looked away. Ellie's face was flushed, her whole body practically hanging off him, her voice sticky-sweet: "Liam, just one more drink." Liam smiled. Under the club lights, his deep, devastatingly handsome eyes rippled with a charm that lacked any warmth. "Drinking like this is boring. Feed me." "How?" Liam didn't answer, just looked down at her. A half-second later, Ellie realized what he meant. A flash of wild joy crossed her eyes as she threw her head back and downed the whiskey in her glass! Then, Liam abruptly grabbed the back of her head and kissed her fiercely. His kiss held no tenderness; it was more like he was venting. Ellie tilted her head up to receive it, the corners of her eyes reddening from the lack of oxygen. Liquor spilled from the corners of their intertwined lips. The atmosphere around them instantly exploded, screams and whistles rising and falling. I knew he was doing it on purpose. He was punishing me. Punishing me for not coaxing him that day and for daring to give him attitude. It wasn't until I walked right up to Liam that everyone quieted down, watching me like I was the main act in a play. Liam looked up, his expression flat: "What are you doing here?" Looking at this face, my mind drifted back to the countless days and nights of intimacy over the past four years. In the heat of passion, we had even spoken of love. Was it painful? Maybe a little. But was it agonizing? Not really. After all, I had known what kind of person Liam was for a long time. A playboy, always chasing novelty, unable to say no. Selfish, raised on a pedestal, always self-centered, never considering anyone else's feelings. My voice trembled as I spoke: "Liam, you've gone too far." Liam looked at me. Even though he was sitting and I was standing, I felt like he was looking down on me. He still wore that flat expression, a contemptuous smile on his lips. "Too far? You can break up with me. It's not like I'm stopping you." I remained silent, just looking at him. I couldn't count how many times he had threatened me with a breakup. Eighty times? A hundred times? A friend nearby probably felt he had gone too far and tugged at his sleeve: "Liam, that's enough. Look at Chloe, she looks like she's going to be sick." In truth, my eyes were red. If you're going to act, you have to commit. When that teardrop hit the carpet, I clearly saw Liam's expression freeze. The fingers holding his cigarette twitched, but he still didn't say anything, just looked at me coldly. The next second, I said softly: "Okay, Liam." "Let's break up, then." The expression on Liam's face instantly solidified. For a moment, I even thought he was going to flip the table. However, instead of getting angry, he laughed, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. It looked like it was squeezed through his gritted teeth. "Fine, Chloe, look at you getting a spine. But remember this: I, Liam Sterling, never go back to an ex." "Don't come crawling back to me like a dog begging for me later." "Okay." I nodded and wiped my tears. Then I turned and walked away, never looking back at him once. Liam didn't come home that night. Overnight, I deleted all his contact information and packed my bags. Early the next morning, I got on the earliest flight back to headquarters. As the plane soared into the sky, I took out my SIM card and tossed it into the trash bag. Chapter 4 I didn't contact Liam again. My life at headquarters got back on track. I quickly adapted to the rhythm of my new department, and I also met the man my mother had set up for me. The 30-year-old man sitting across from me, wearing a stiff suit, was still droning on. "I think that for women, before 30, the focus should be on the family. Having too much ambition isn't good. What I mean is, after we get married, it would be best if you put more energy into the family and taking care of the kids..." He kept blabbering. I stirred my coffee with a smile, telling myself I had to hold back and absolutely could not throw this coffee in this self-absorbed man's face. Finally, when he finished, he adjusted his glasses: "Did you catch all of that? Do you have any opinions?" I maintained my smile: "No. But Mr. Davis, I don't think we're a good fit. Let's just split the bill for this meal." Then, amidst his grumbling complaints of "Women over 30 aren't in demand anymore, what are you being so picky for, old maid...", I turned and left. In the days since I returned to my hometown, my mother had arranged no less than ten blind dates for me, some with relatively decent prospects. However, having seen the ocean, all other waters pale in comparison. After being with someone with Liam's god-tier looks for four years, it was genuinely hard for me to generate any interest in these ordinary men. This depressed mood lasted until the Monday group strategy meeting. Everyone arrived early. The conference room was completely silent, the atmosphere heavy. I quietly asked the colleague next to me: "What's going on? Did something happen?" My colleague lowered her voice: "The 'Young Master' hired by the board of directors has dropped in! Rumor has it he's using our group as practice to familiarize himself with domestic operations before taking over the entire Asia-Pacific region." "This Mr. Vance, they say he has a Juris Doctor from an Ivy League school. After graduating, he did M&A on Wall Street and never lost a case. When he came back to the States, he started his own venture capital firm and reached the top of the industry in just a few years. If the old chairman hadn't threatened and lured him with shares, he wouldn't have agreed to come back at all. He's a truly ruthless guy, be very careful with what you say later!" Shortly after, a man wearing a dark gray three-piece suit walked in. He wasn't wearing a tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. The moment he stepped into the conference room, his assistant respectfully took his files. I looked up. In that instant, everyone's breathing seemed to stop. The first thing that struck you was the aura radiating from this man. It was a sense of absolute control and oppression. He clearly had no expression, but everyone present, myself included, instinctively stiffened their backs, not daring to make eye contact with him. It was only on the second glance that you noticed his slightly slanted phoenix eyes, framed by gold-rimmed glasses, the lenses hiding coldness and scrutiny. This man was incredibly handsome, but a completely different type from Liam. If Liam was a blazing, scorching fire, then he was a frozen undercurrent in the deep sea. "Apologies, my flight was delayed. I'm late." His voice was cold and clear. He sat at the head of the table and got straight to the point: "My name is Alexander Vance. Starting today, I am taking over the group's strategy. I have already reviewed all departmental files and financial reports from the past three years. Now, starting with Group A, each person has three minutes to report on your work achievements over the past year and your future plans." The department heads went up one by one, trembling as they reported. Alexander was as sharp as the rumors said, accurately pointing out every loophole and glossed-over statistic intended to deceive him. "I don't like listening to nonsense, and I don't like being treated like a fool. I expect efficient communication with smart people. But if communication fails, I will consider changing the method." He didn't explicitly curse anyone out, but the backs of the several directors who were called out were soaked in sweat. When it was my turn, a thin layer of sweat broke out on my palms. Fortunately, I was well-prepared, and my performance over the past year was dazzling enough. Once I started speaking, I became increasingly fluent. My education and my career are my pride and my foundation; I never cut corners when it comes to work. Alexander didn't interrupt me. Through his glasses, I saw a hint of appreciation in his eyes. A moment later, I stopped, signaling the end of my report. He nodded: "Chloe Hastings, is it? Not bad." "From now on, everyone's reports will be held to this standard." Ever since Alexander arrived, the entire department plunged into hell. He drastically cut many redundant projects and personnel, and he also pulled in several top-tier resources that seemed entirely out of reach. Everyone was working longer and longer hours of overtime, but the estimated numbers for our year-end bonuses also doubled. The colleagues, especially the young female ones, were full of fantasies about Alexander. There were two new interns who perhaps read too many CEO romance novels. One openly contradicted him in a meeting, trying to catch his attention. The other deliberately spilled coffee on his custom suit and tried to wipe it off with her hands. The first one didn't show up for work the next day. The second one packed her bags and was gone by that afternoon. The female colleagues fell into line. However, during breaks, everyone still gossiped in the pantry. "I heard he's always been single, not even a rumored girlfriend. You don't think his romantic history is just nonexistent, do you?" "Impossible! With a man of his caliber, so many women are eyeing him. His standards are probably just too high." "Oh my god, did you guys see him in that three-piece suit today? That shoulder-to-waist ratio... If I could catch him, I'd willingly hand over my paycheck!" I listened, suddenly intrigued. Without Liam, this Alexander Vance seemed like an even better prey. This man, I wanted to try.
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