Chapter 2

"Part on good terms?"

Asher looked like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

"Serena, how many times are you going to play this little game of hard-to-get?"

"Two years ago, you said you were going to study abroad. Then you called me crying at the airport."

"Three years ago, you said you wanted to break up. Then you stood in the rain all night and ended up with a fever."

"Can you even leave me?"

He was certain, confident, even a little condescending in his pity.

Because in his mind, I was nothing more than Asher's shadow.

And how could a shadow ever leave the light?

He also knew something I didn't—he'd personally made sure tonight's box was filled with nothing but blanks.

There was no way either of us could draw a name.

No way this charade could end tonight.

Beside him, Bianca covered her mouth with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with mockery.

"Serena, I know you're upset, but Asher's only looking out for me. Don't say things like that just to spite him."

"What if it backfires? Who else would want you after this?"

"After all, everyone in New York knows you've been waiting for Asher for seven years. You're practically a running joke at every party."

A joke? She was right.

For Asher's sake, I'd turned myself into a punchline.

I looked at Bianca's fake, saccharine face and suddenly remembered what I'd overheard earlier at the lounge door—

"Besides, that fool won't marry anyone but me."

So that's what I was to them.

My devotion? Foolishness.

My persistence? Desperation.

"You're overthinking it, Miss Bianca." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling gracefully.

"My family's wealth is beyond measure. I am the sole heir to everything."

"The line of men wanting to marry me stretches all the way to Paris."

"But you, Miss Bianca." My gaze dropped to where she clung tightly to Asher's arm.

"I heard you spent seven years overseas recovering from an illness."

"So why is it that now you're back, you still can't seem to stand on your own two feet?"

"Should I call an ambulance? Maybe they can take you straight to the morgue for a checkup."

"You—!" Bianca's face turned red, trembling with rage.

Tears welled up instantly and began streaming down her cheeks.

"Asher, did you hear what she just said...?"

Asher's expression darkened.

"Serena! That's enough! Apologize to Bianca!"

"Apologize?" I raised an eyebrow. "Why should I?"

"Because she's your precious little darling? Or because she's shameless?"

"Asher, have you forgotten? This is my family's gala tonight."

"I'm the hostess here and I have every right to put an outsider who doesn't know her place in check."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Asher's mother hurried over, and when she saw the scene, her brows furrowed deeply.

"Enough! Stop making a scene! You're embarrassing yourselves!"

She shot Asher a glare, then turned to me, her expression complicated.

"Serena, it's almost time. Don't let irrelevant people ruin what matters."

Asher's mother genuinely cared for me and genuinely hoped the selection would finally succeed tonight.

But her beloved son had destroyed that possibility with his own hands.

Asher took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, wrapped an arm around Bianca's shoulder and patted her soothingly.

Then he turned to me, his tone ice-cold.

"Fine. If you want to go through with this so badly, then let's begin."

"Let's see, when we both draw blanks again, if you can still run your mouth like this."

He was so confident because he knew—he'd replaced every slip in that box with blanks just this morning.

There was no possible way for this selection to succeed.

With that, he turned and walked toward the raised platform in the center of the hall.

There sat an ornate rosewood box—the very thing that would decide my fate.

I watched his retreating figure, my gaze growing colder.

Asher, you think you've controlled everything.

But you don't realize—the roles of hunter and prey can reverse in an instant.