Early in the morning, Clara Johnson slowly opened her eyes, only to find her whole body aching, like she'd just been run over.

What the hell?! Her eyes darted around, and the scene before her nearly gave her a heart attack.

On the big white Simmons bed, the sheets were a complete mess, with a glaring red stain right in the middle.

And lying beside her, there was a man she didn’t recognize, still sound asleep. His eyelashes were long and dark, his nose perfectly sculpted like some art piece.

He had that tall, lean frame, exuding an air of elegance that screamed expensive.

But seriously, why the heck was this guy in her room?!

"Ahhhh!" Clara let out a piercing scream. I mean, who wouldn't freak out waking up like that?

She sat there in shock, scanning the room like it might offer answers.

“What the actual hell happened?!”

Someone please tell her what went down last night!

Her yell startled the man awake. He didn’t rush, just casually sat up and started getting dressed, every move smooth and unbothered. "How much? Take the money and go."

Clara’s hands shook with rage as she raised one and pointed at him, furious. “You bastard! I never should’ve let you in!”

So much for doing a good deed. She saved this guy’s life, and what did she get in return? Humiliation. And to make things worse—it had been her first time…

She remembered last night clearly now—a sudden downpour, a pale-looking stranger collapsing right outside her door.

She acted out of instinct, letting him in to rest, thinking he’d leave once he got better. But clearly, she’d let in an absolute nightmare.

"My bad, didn’t know you were a virgin." Ethan Anderson glanced at the red stain, his brows twitching, then coolly pulled out his wallet and held out a gold card, completely ignoring the storm of anger in her eyes.

He had a gut feeling—girls like her, the innocent types, always turned into the biggest headaches. And while dealing with drama wasn’t something he feared, he really wasn’t looking for it.

Seeing the card, Clara was beyond pissed. She actually laughed out of sheer disbelief, then chucked a pillow straight at him. "Wow, this is how you treat the person who saved your damn life?! You passed out outside my house in the pouring rain with a fever, and I actually had the nerve to help you."

Unreal. This was his reaction? Clara felt like she was gonna burst a blood vessel.“What’s done is done. Talking won’t change a thing. A smart woman would take the money and walk away. Don’t get any stupid ideas.”

Ethan Anderson flicked away the pillow Clara Johnson had thrown at him, his voice cold as ice. “Childish.”

“So what if I am? Get the hell out!”

Clara crouched on the floor, cheeks pale, eyes rimmed red. Her delicate face looked incredibly fragile.

“Oh please, drop the act.” Ethan grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His tone was sharp, flat-out dismissive. “You should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, you might still be some lifelong virgin.”

“Screw you!”

Clara raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it with ease, twisting her arm behind her back.

He leaned in with a mocking smile, his voice cutting. “Trying to hit me? You don’t have that kind of right.”

Then he let go, letting her stumble back onto the floor. The gold card he tossed landed right on her trembling frame.

Without another word, Ethan turned and walked out, leaving nothing behind but a figure full of contempt.

Ethan wasn’t the type to sleep around, but he knew exactly how irresistible he was. There were countless women dying to get into his bed.

If it hadn’t been for the drug last night, no way he’d have touched someone this ordinary. He wouldn’t even glance at her, let alone...

So she was just absurdly lucky to have ended up with him.

Seriously? Was that even human speech?! Clara was so pissed she wanted to slap him into next week.

And the pain—every inch of her body ached like hell.

Tears silently dripped onto the white carpet. She hated how weak she was. Hated that her kindness landed her here.

But what could she do? She was just a broke student, with no backup, no connections. Justice? She didn’t even dare think about it.

And that guy? Judging from his suit alone, he was definitely someone powerful. There was no way she could go up against someone like him.

So yeah, tough luck. This time, she’d just have to swallow the pain and move on.

“Stop crying. None of this is your fault.”

Clara lifted her head, trying hard to convince herself. So what if she slept with some cold-hearted jerk? It wasn’t the end of the world.

Give it time. She’d forget everything.

She believed that one day, her future husband would understand and stand by her side.

Yeah, it sounded naive. But that thought was the only thing keeping her together.

All she hoped now was to never—and she meant never—see that bastard again.