Chapter 2

"Summer, marry me. I'll dedicate my life to protecting you, to making you the happiest woman in the world."

My boyfriend, Brandon Reed, knelt on the rose-petal-strewn floor, pulling a delicate velvet box from his custom-made suit pocket.

The box slowly opened, revealing a magnificent diamond ring that sparkled dazzlingly under the living room's crystal chandelier.

Today was my twenty-fifth birthday.

It was supposed to be just a casual family dinner. My mom had cooked a huge spread of all my favorite dishes, and my dad had opened a bottle of wine he'd been saving for years.

Who would have thought that Brandon had secretly planned such a romantic proposal?

My mom gasped, covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, constantly nudging my dad with her elbow. My dad put down his wine glass; though he tried to hide it, his slightly trembling hands betrayed his excitement.

I felt a little dazed, as if I were dreaming.

Brandon and I had met at a friend's party.

We'd been together for three whole years, and he'd been incredibly attentive.

His never-missed, homemade breakfasts every morning, the umbrella always appearing promptly at my office building on rainy days, the warming ginger tea he'd brew for me during my period...

Aside from his ordinary background and frequent business trips, he was an absolutely flawless, perfect partner.

My parents, though they cared deeply for me, weren't materialistic people.

They often said that as long as a guy was a good person, hardworking, and treated me well, it didn't matter if he was a bit poor; we could build a life together.

I had always believed I'd found my destined happiness.

A wave of emotion washed over me, blurring my vision with tears. I took a deep breath, ready to reach out and accept the ring, a symbol of a lifelong commitment.

Just then, something unexpected happened.

A blinding red light flashed across my retina, followed by a translucent, blood-red virtual panel that floated in the air above Brandon's head.

"Don't touch it, you fool! That ring? He stole it from a wealthy woman! And her enforcers are on their way, knives out!"

"This lowlife has secondary syphilis and a preliminary HIV positive! And he's still trying to trick you into marriage, planning to turn an honest person into his free nurse and a cleanup crew for his mess!"

"Look at his right cuff! Always buttoned tight, just to hide his syphilis rashes!"

"Summer Hayes, run! You have three minutes until the rich woman's enforcers break down your door!"

"This guy's just a high-class kept man, a male escort who preys on wealthy women. Now that he's been caught red-handed, he's trying to leave the stolen goods at your house to frame your family!"

My outstretched hand froze in mid-air, my fingertips barely an inch from that diamond.

I blinked hard, even secretly pinching my thigh, wondering if I was hallucinating from too much overtime work recently.

But the blood-red panel didn't vanish. Instead, it went wild, frantically scrolling with a dense stream of pop-up messages, each word like a sharp knife, plunging into my eyes.

How could this be?

Brandon was still looking at me with deep affection, his captivating eyes, usually filled with a gentle smile, now alight with expectation.

His hand, holding the ring, trembled slightly, as if nervous about my hesitation.

"Summer? What's wrong? Are you just too excited to react?" he murmured my name, his voice like velvet.

I didn't speak. After a momentary mental freeze, my brain started working furiously.

My gaze instinctively dropped to his wrist.

In the three years I'd known him, whether it was summer or winter, Brandon always wore long-sleeved shirts, and his cuff buttons were always fastened tightly.

I'd once asked him why he never wore short sleeves, and he'd laughed, saying he had childhood burn scars on his arm that he found ugly and didn't want to scare me.

I'd even felt pity for his sensitivity and insecurity.

Now, thinking back, for all his kindness and thoughtfulness, our most intimate gestures had only ever gone as far as holding hands and hugging.

Every time I tried to take things further, he would always put me off with various grand excuses, saying he wanted "to save the best for our wedding night," or "I cherish you too much to be hasty."

I'd thought it was his respect and care for me, a rare purity in this superficial world.

But if what the pop-up messages said was true...

"Summer, hurry up and say yes! Don't let Brandon kneel too long, the floor's cold," my mom urged from the side, breaking the silence in the living room.

I ignored my mom's urging and didn't reach for the ring.

Driven by an inexplicable impulse, I reached out and grabbed Brandon's right wrist.

With all my strength, I yanked his sleeve upwards.

"Rip!" The cuff button burst open from the force, clattering softly on the wooden floor.

Brandon's face contorted, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back.

But I, with a strength I didn't know I possessed, clamped onto his wrist, refusing to let him go even an inch.

His sleeve was completely pulled up, revealing his arm, which should have been clean.

However, on the inner skin of his wrist, there were several coppery-red, scaly rashes!

In that instant, my blood ran cold, and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

The pop-up messages were true!

He really had syphilis! He really was a liar!

Three years of tenderness, thoughtfulness, and heartfelt vows, all a meticulously planned deception!