Chapter 1

The giant screen in the university auditorium was playing a looped video of my downfall.

The footage showed me walking out of Julian Sterling’s private lounge in the middle of the night, my clothes disheveled.

Then, the screen cut to several fake PayPal transaction screenshots, accompanied by bold, blood-red text: *Vivian Vance slept her way into the prestigious Hudson Spring Fellowship!*

The crowd erupted. Countless judging eyes and phone cameras turned toward me, standing in the very back row.

"No wonder Julian protected her so much before. She was just paying him in bed."

I squeezed the art tube in my hands.

Inside was a painting I had spent three grueling months working on. It held my two-year, unspoken crush on Julian.

Julian was the only light in my dark world.

After my mother died, my stepsister, Melanie, did everything she could to ruin me. It was Julian who had always stood in front of me, shielding me from her attacks.

With tears stinging my eyes, I hurried backstage. I needed to ask Julian what was going on.

But just as my hand touched the doorknob, a man’s cynical laughter drifted through the door.

"Julian, that was brutal. With that security footage and the fake transaction logs, Vivian will never be able to show her face in the art world again."

"She brought this on herself. She was the one who got Melanie exiled to Paris years ago. Doesn't Vivian care so much about her deceased mother's 'innocent' reputation? Let's see how she likes being branded a cheap climber herself."

My entire body went numb.

Then, Julian’s voice, cold as ice, pierced through the door. "She owes Melanie. It’s time to pay it back."

Someone cheered. "So, when are you going to tell her you're actually Melanie’s fiancé? If she finds out the guy she's been in love with for two years was just setting a trap for Melanie's revenge, she might actually lose her mind."

Silence fell over the room for a second.

Then came Julian’s detached tone. "We’ll wrap this up as soon as Melanie lands in New York."

I felt as if a lump of bloody cotton was lodged in my throat. I couldn't breathe.

So, all his gentleness, his protection, the warm soup he sent me late at night... they were all just bait in a trap he laid for Melanie's sake.

*Click.* The door was pulled open from the inside.

Julian saw me standing there. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it with his usual, hypocritical tenderness.

"Why are you standing here? I’ll handle the drama outside. Don’t listen to their rumors."

He reached out, habitually trying to cup my face.

I took a step back, dodging his hand.

At the end of the hallway, a crowd of onlookers was waiting for me to break down, waiting for me to throw myself into Julian’s arms like a desperate dog begging for help.

Instead, I calmly tossed the art tube—the one containing three months of my heart and soul—into the trash can next to me.

"Julian, the painting is ruined. You don’t deserve it anyway."

Ignoring Julian’s shocked expression, I turned and walked out into the freezing rain, my back perfectly straight.

That cheap affection—I didn’t want it anymore.

By the time Julian chased me outside, the rain was pouring.

He held an umbrella over my head, his tone carrying the usual arrogance of a savior. "Going back to the dorms will only get you mobbed by paparazzi. Be good. Let me take you back to the Vance estate."

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