It was already late, but the room was lit up like daylight.

Evan gently captured Chloe’s lips, holding her snug in his arms.

As their kisses deepened, she felt his embrace tighten—his body reacting. Chloe tensed up a little. After five years together, he’d never gone past kissing.

They had made plans to go register their marriage tomorrow. The wedding? Three months down the road.

Chloe thought, if Evan really wanted to take that step tonight, she wouldn’t say no.

She shut her eyes, bracing for what he’d do next, but unexpectedly, he pulled away.

He planted a soft kiss on her cheek, his voice husky in her ear. “Chloe, it’s getting late. I should go. I’ll pick you up in the morning for the registry.”

“Evan,” Chloe caught his sleeve as he turned to leave, “you could stay tonight… we’re getting married tomorrow anyway.”

He chuckled and tweaked her nose affectionately. “What, you can’t wait? Tomorrow night, you’ll be calling me hubby in bed.”

Her cheeks turned scarlet. She gave him a gentle push toward the door. “Alright, alright, go now. It’s late, drive safe.”

After sending him off, Chloe flopped onto the couch, covering her face with both hands, grinning like a fool. Tomorrow, she’d become Mrs. Hayes.

She opened a hidden album on her phone—it was filled with snapshots of her and Evan from the past five years.

Evan was her senior in college, two years ahead of her. They’d met at a campus club. When he confessed, she hadn’t even hesitated before saying yes.

He was tall, good-looking, ridiculously smart—the kind of guy all the girls crushed on.

Chloe always felt incredibly lucky that he chose her and stayed with her.

She swiped through the photos, lost in the memories of all those sweet moments they had shared.

In some pictures, besides her and Evan, there was another familiar face—her best friend, Ivy Hart.

Ivy had been her roommate in college, and they’d grown close. Chloe was the type who loved sharing everything, so she’d texted Ivy earlier: "Guess what—we’re registering our marriage tomorrow!"

Normally Ivy would respond in seconds. But tonight? Radio silence.

Chloe stared at the screen for ages, waiting. Just as she was about to set her phone down, a call popped up—it was Ivy.

She smiled and tapped “accept,” about to speak—when suddenly she heard Ivy’s sweet, flirty voice from the phone speaker:

“Babe, just came from Chloe’s place?”

“Quit talking and get on the bed.”

Her heart stopped.

That voice—it was Evan. No doubt about it.Next came a sound that made Chloe Chapman feel downright sick.

She hung up the voice chat and just sat there on the couch, stiff as a board.

Boyfriend and bestie—both stabbing her in the back? Her whole world felt like it had fallen into a freezing cold pit.

Why?

Why was Evan Hayes still crawling into Ivy Hart’s bed when he was supposed to be marrying her tomorrow?

From the way they talked, this wasn’t even a one-time thing. And she’d been completely in the dark.

Was it because they were too good at pretending, or had she just been too blind? Or maybe... she’d just trusted them way too much.

“I’m such a damn idiot,” she muttered.

She almost slapped herself but quickly stopped—she wasn’t the one who messed up. If anyone deserved a slap, it was those two scumbags.

Fuming, Chloe deleted all the photos she’d just seen and blocked both Evan and Ivy everywhere.

Then she shot to her feet, pacing back and forth like a ticking time bomb. The more she thought about it, the more her chest burned with rage. If she didn’t vent somehow, she might actually explode.

Grabbing her car keys, she stormed out.

She drove aimlessly for a while, doing laps around the city, but the pressure in her chest wouldn't go away. Eventually, she pulled up in front of a bar.

She’d never been to one before—Evan didn’t allow it.

No drinking. No going out at night. No talking to other guys. Not too many friends either; he thought too big a circle was "too messy." That’s why she only had Ivy.

She used to think that was love—turns out, it was just a cage. He was locking her up like some pet canary.

For five whole years, Chloe had been bending over backward to be “his kind of girl.” She couldn’t even remember who she really was anymore.

Her whole life was a joke—and not even a funny one.

Screw it. She was gonna do everything Evan told her not to.

With that, Chloe got out and walked into the bar, which looked pretty decent from the outside.

The moment she stepped in, she practically froze. Bright lights, loud music, women rocking skimpy outfits dancing on stage—it was a sensory overload.

Late autumn or not, girls inside were flaunting shoulders, waists, legs... Chloe looked down at her own cozy sweater and jeans combo and felt like a sore thumb.

She found an empty table tucked away in a corner and took a seat. A waiter brought over the drink menu, and she just picked the prettiest-looking ones—three colorful cocktails.

The waiter returned quickly with her drinks and even added a small snack plate on the side.

Chloe took a sip—sweet and fizzy, kinda like soda. Pretty tasty.

With one hand feeding herself snacks and the other sipping her drink, she zoned out at the show on stage. Before long, all three cocktails were gone.

Still not satisfied, she waved the waiter over again and ordered two more.Chloe Chapman thought she'd picked a low-key spot in the corner, but little did she know—she stood out like a sore thumb. Sweet face, innocent look, sitting all by herself? Yeah, she was basically a walking “target me” sign.

A balding middle-aged guy with tattoos all over his arms and a tight tee strolled up with a drink in hand. Dropping onto the seat across from her, he leaned in with an oily smile.

“Out alone, sweetheart?”

Chloe glanced up and immediately got bad vibes. Her brows knitted in disgust. “Move. This is my table.”

The guy didn’t even flinch. “C’mon now, being alone is no fun. Let me keep you company, yeah?”

“No thanks.” Chloe picked up her glass and took a sharp sip.

While she was drinking, the man casually flicked something into her other glass—smooth and fast, like he'd done it a thousand times.

After gulping down her first drink, Chloe slammed the glass down with a loud clink, glaring at him. “Didn’t I say leave me alone? Are you deaf?”

He raised his brows, amused. Feisty one, huh? “Call me if you change your mind, babe. I’m always around.” He stood and wandered off, grinning like a creep.

Chloe rolled her eyes so hard they practically left her head.

She downed both drinks, feeling surprisingly fine. Turns out her alcohol tolerance wasn’t bad at all. She was about to order more when heat started creeping up her spine. Her breathing got shaky, and her skin felt weirdly sensitive.

Wait—this wasn’t just booze.

She wasn’t exactly experienced, but she wasn’t stupid either. That guy was the only one who got close enough. It had to be him. He must’ve slipped something into her drink.

Panicking, she tried to stand, only to realize her legs felt like jelly. Her arms weren’t cooperating either. And there he was—the creep from earlier—leaning casually against the door as if waiting.

Shit.

Chloe spotted the stairs and grabbed her things, forcing her numb legs to move as she stumbled upward.

…

Finn Morgan, heir to the powerful Morgan family in B City.

To avoid the mess back home, he kept a low profile while attending college in C City. But even away from all that, he couldn’t totally cut off. He had businesses to run and updates to get.

Tonight, he’d met with his assistant here at the bar.

After the meeting, Finn stepped out of the private room, giving instructions as they walked.

“Stick to the plan and lay low. Don’t text me unless it’s urgent,” he said.

“Understood, young master.” His assistant gave a slight bow, then left.

Finn pulled a pair of smart glasses from his jacket and slipped them on, ready to leave.

But as he walked past the next private suite, someone yanked him inside.

The room was pitch-dark, but with night vision, Finn could see everything.

A girl.

Shoulder-length hair, flushed face, those big almond-shaped eyes wide and desperate, lips parted as she panted softly.

“You’re… the guy they send to drink with me?” her voice trembled as she asked.

Finn: …