The sound of the shower finally stopped.

Inside the bathroom, Bowen grabbed a thick towel and scrubbed the cold water from his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and forced himself to take ten deep, slow breaths.

He pulled the belt of his black robe tight, knotting it aggressively. He convinced himself the nosebleed was just dry air. He was Bowen Greene. He was a monster in the boardroom. He could handle one woman.

He pushed the bathroom door open and marched back into the living room. His eyes locked onto Aria.

Aria was sitting sideways on the expensive leather sofa. She was holding a heavy silver lighter she found on the coffee table, flipping the lid open and shut with a rhythmic, metallic click. She didn't even look up when he walked in.

Bowen walked over and stopped right in front of her. He stood tall, trying to cast a dark shadow over her body.

He cleared his throat. He dropped his voice into a deep, vibrating register that sounded completely unnatural.

"Don't think you've won anything, woman."

Aria's left eyebrow twitched. The forced gravel in his voice was physically painful to listen to.

Before she could speak, Handler 377 flashed a bright gold notification box across her vision.

[High-Reward Task Triggered: Counter the male lead's provocation. Say the exact phrase: "Is that it?" with a mocking expression. Reward: Flawless Skin Gene Upgrade.]

Aria's heart skipped a beat. As an actress whose face was her entire livelihood, a genetic skin upgrade was worth more than a million dollars. She accepted the task instantly.

Aria snapped the silver lighter shut. She slowly lifted her chin.

Her eyes started at Bowen's face. She dragged her gaze down his neck, over his chest, and let it drop lower.

She intentionally stopped her eyes right at the knot of his bathrobe, staring directly at his crotch.

Bowen felt the physical weight of her stare. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. His knees jerked, and he subconsciously pressed his legs closer together.

Aria let out a short, breathy laugh. The sound bounced off the high ceiling, filled with absolute contempt.

She tilted her head to the side. She curled her upper lip into a perfect sneer, mixing pity with disgust.

"Is that it?" she asked.

The three words hit Bowen like a physical blow to the stomach.

His jaw dropped. His eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. It was as if she had just pulled a gun and shot him in the chest.

The fragile shell of his male ego shattered into a million pieces. His bottom lip actually trembled.

He raised a shaking finger, pointing at her. He opened his mouth, but his brain couldn't form a single word of defense. He just stood there, stuttering over empty air.

A sharp, pleasant chime rang in Aria's head. [Task Complete. Reward Distributed.]

A rush of cool, minty energy washed over Aria's body. She felt her pores tighten. The dull ache of exhaustion vanished from her face.

She lifted her hand and stared at the back of it. The skin, which had felt slightly dry and tight just moments ago, was now as smooth as silk, even glowing with a healthy radiance under the light.

Aria smiled, completely mesmerized by her own hand. She ignored the towering man standing in front of her.

Bowen sucked in a ragged breath. He desperately tried to glue his pride back together. "I... I was just off my game today. The market was stressful."

Aria didn't look at him. She just gave a vague, dismissive nod, waving her perfect hand in the air. "Sure. I'm very busy right now."

A crushing wave of defeat slammed into Bowen. His brutal negotiation tactics, the ones that made old Wall Street billionaires sweat, were completely useless against her.

He grabbed a handful of his damp hair and yanked it in frustration. He spun on his heel and walked stiffly toward the master bedroom. He needed to hide.

The bedroom door clicked shut.

Aria stood up. She walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling mirror near the entryway to inspect her new face.

She touched her cheek. It was flawless. She realized right then that this system wasn't a curse. It was a tool. And she was going to use it to bleed this world dry.

Aria waited until she heard the heavy thud of Bowen throwing himself onto the bed in the other room.

She turned away from the mirror and walked into the massive walk-in closet attached to the living area.

Rows of designer dresses and sharp suits lined the walls. She reached out, letting her fingers drag across the cold silk and heavy wool fabrics.

She sat down on the round velvet ottoman in the center of the room. "System. Give me the full background file."

A glowing blue screen expanded in the air. Pages of text detailing the plot of 'The Sterling Contract' scrolled past her eyes.

Aria read fast. The original Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family.

The Mcgee corporation was drowning in debt. They needed Bowen Greene's capital to survive.

Her father, Preston, and her older sister, Ivy, had set a trap. They drugged Aria, shoved her into a town car, and delivered her to Bowen's penthouse like a piece of meat to secure the lifestyle agreement.

Aria let out a harsh, barking laugh. The plot was so incredibly stupid she couldn't believe a human brain wrote it.

She kept reading. The original Aria didn't even have access to her own trust fund. She lived in a converted broom closet on the ground floor of the Mcgee estate.

A cold, heavy anger settled in Aria's chest. Her jaw tightened. She hated weak characters. She despised victims who just laid down and took the beating.

Handler 377 chimed in. [Host must follow the tragic trajectory. Endure the family's abuse. Suffer the male lead's misunderstandings. Achieve the ultimate painful romance.]

"Shut up," Aria said out loud.

She stood up and started pacing the length of the closet. Her mind shifted into problem-solving mode.

First, she had to cut ties with Bowen. He was a distraction.

Second, she needed to go back to Long Island. She was going to rip that trust fund out of her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground.

Aria stopped in front of a rack of women's clothing Bowen had apparently pre-purchased. It was a row of perfectly hung, delicate designer dresses-exactly the kind of fragile, ultra-feminine wardrobe a man like him would buy for a helpless victim. She grabbed a sleek, dark navy silk wrap dress that looked the most structured of the bunch.

She stripped off the nightgown and pulled the dress on. The fabric hugged her ribs perfectly. The original owner was weak, but her bone structure was built for high fashion.

Aria stood in front of the closet mirror. She pulled her hair back, picking up a stiff black bobby pin from the vanity tray and casually pinning a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She practiced a cold, dead-eyed socialite smile. It was flawless.

A loud, muffled bang came from the living room. It sounded like heavy wood hitting bone.

Aria dropped her smile. She walked to the closet door and pressed her ear against the wood.

Bowen's voice leaked through, hissing a string of violent curses. He had stubbed his toe on the coffee table.

Aria rolled her eyes. The big, bad billionaire couldn't even walk across a room without injuring himself.

She grabbed the brass handle of the closet door, ready to march out and leave the hotel.

Before she could turn the knob, a sharp, hollow cramp twisted her stomach. Her body let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

She hadn't eaten anything since she woke up in this body. Her blood sugar was crashing.

Aria let go of the handle. She looked out into the living room and saw the leather-bound room service menu sitting on the side table.

She wasn't going to leave on an empty stomach.

She walked over to the phone, picked up the heavy receiver, and dialed the kitchen. She ordered the Beluga caviar breakfast.

She hung up the phone and sank into the plush cushions of the sofa. She crossed her legs, ready to make the billionaire pay for her breakfast.

The silver wheels of the room service cart squeaked softly against the hardwood floor.

The butler parked the cart in front of the sofa, lifting the silver domes to reveal a crystal bowl of Beluga caviar and a chilled bottle of champagne.

Aria flashed the butler a brilliant, practiced smile. She took the gold pen from his tray and signed Bowen Greene's name at the bottom of the absurdly expensive bill with a dramatic flourish.

The moment the butler closed the front door, Aria picked up the mother-of-pearl spoon. She scooped a large mound of black eggs and placed them on her tongue. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh as the salt hit her taste buds.

The bedroom door ripped open.

Bowen marched out. He was dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored navy suit. His face was a mask of pure thunder.

He saw Aria sitting there, eating his caviar. The muscle in his jaw ticked so hard it looked like it was going to snap the bone.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides. He slammed both hands down on the edge of the room service cart, leaning his upper body forward to trap her in his shadow.

Aria didn't even flinch. She kept her eyes on the caviar. She picked up the crystal champagne flute and took a slow, elegant sip, completely ignoring his aggressive posture.

Bowen opened his mouth to yell, but a sharp buzzing sound cut him off.

His private cell phone vibrated violently in his suit pocket.

He ripped the phone out and pressed it to his ear. "What?" he snapped.

Aria could hear the frantic, tinny voice of his assistant, Arthur, bleeding through the speaker.

Arthur was panicking. A swarm of paparazzi had breached the lobby. "They sneaked in under the cover of a bribed cleaning crew and bypassed the elevator's fire-service mode!" Arthur yelled over the line. Helen Mercer, the most vicious gossip reporter in the city, was already in the private elevator heading for the penthouse. "Our security team is rushing up the stairs to intercept them now!"

Bowen's face drained of color. His dark eyes snapped away from the wall and locked onto Aria like laser beams.

Aria lowered her champagne glass. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking him what his problem was.

Bowen ended the call. He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. He thought he had finally figured out her game.

He pointed a long finger right at her face. "You set a honey trap."

His voice was dripping with venom. He accused her of stalling for time, of calling the press to expose them so she could extort him for a massive payout to save her bankrupt family.

Aria stared at him for three full seconds.

Then, she threw her head back and laughed. It was a loud, genuine laugh that echoed off the glass windows.

Bowen's face flushed with rage. He thought she was laughing because her evil plan had worked.

He reached across the cart, grabbed the stem of her champagne flute, and hurled it against the marble bar.

The glass shattered. Champagne sprayed across the floor.

Aria's laughter cut off instantly. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous, icy slits.

She stood up. She was shorter than him, but she tilted her chin up and stared directly into his eyes without an ounce of fear.

"You are clinically narcissistic," she said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

She took a step closer, invading his space. "If I wanted to blackmail you, I wouldn't need reporters. I already have the audio recording from last night."

Bowen's breath hitched. His chest stopped moving. He took a quick, involuntary step backward, his heel catching on the edge of the rug.

Aria didn't have a recording. She was bluffing, using her perfect vocal control to make the lie sound like absolute truth.

Before Bowen could recover, the sound of heavy footsteps pounded in the hallway outside.

Handler 377 flashed a red siren in Aria's eyes. [Critical Event: NPC Helen Mercer arriving in 5 seconds.]

The electronic lock on the heavy double doors beeped loudly. Someone had hacked the keycard reader.

The doors burst open.

A blinding wave of white light exploded into the room. The rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters sounded like a machine gun.

Aria threw her arm up over her face, squeezing her eyes shut against the painful glare. Her brain raced, trying to figure out how to hide her face.

Helen Mercer's shrill voice cut through the chaos, screaming questions about Bowen buying the Mcgee daughter.

Then, before Aria could move, Bowen's body did something completely irrational.