"Was that waitress a friend of yours?" Zach kept close as we walked, his voice strained. "I don't remember you talking about her before."

"What's the big deal?" I shot Zach a half-smile and said breezily, "It's not like you know every single one of my friends."

He shifted uncomfortably and said, a little awkwardly, "I was just curious. I mean, she's just a waitress—"

I cut him off. "So? She graduated from Alveron University."

I was heading back to the private room when Zach suddenly said, "Babe, I'm not feeling well. Maybe I should go home."

"What's bothering you?" I arched an eyebrow. "You're actually bailing on my birthday?"

I knew why Zach didn't want to return to the private room. Someone had already texted me about it.

He and Jacob had gotten me bracelets in the same style for my birthday. But as luck would have it, Jacob's was real, and Zach's was a cheap knockoff.

On their own, they looked almost the same. But put them side by side, and the difference was glaring. One was a high-end piece covered in diamonds, the other a bare-bones replica.

"It's fine. Your health comes first. Go ahead," I said with a faint smile, waving him off.

Zach breathed out in obvious relief. I watched him walk away before turning and heading back to the private room at a leisurely pace.

"Lene, come sit with me." Jacob tugged me down next to him and lowered his voice. "That boyfriend of yours is total trash—ugly, stingy, and honestly? Dating him is just staining your reputation."

"He's Shirley's ex. Trust me, if he weren't, I wouldn't give him the time of day," I murmured, leaning in to settle him. "Just stick it out for a few days. Once everything's handled, we won't have to hide anymore."

Jacob gave a resigned nod. The thing was, we'd been together for three years, but thanks to Shirley's bizarre trade system, we had to stay under the radar.

So far, I'd kept up the high-society act without getting caught. It wasn't just my acting skills—Jacob had been picking up the tab most of the time.

Jacob and I were whispering back and forth when Shirley's Instagram follow request popped up.

The message read, "Lene, it's Shirley."

I followed her without really thinking, but she never messaged me again. I had a pretty good idea what she was up to.

Before long, a notification popped up on my screen. She'd liked my latest post—the one with photos of all the extravagant gifts my friends had showered me with, each stamped with those iconic luxury logos.

In the pictures, I was sitting in the middle of all those stacked-up gifts, smiling like I'd just won the lottery.

It looked like I was flaunting my wealth, and honestly, I was. This was the persona I'd carefully crafted, and I knew Shirley would eat it up.

"Lene, I'm so sorry. I forgot today was your birthday, and I didn't even get you a gift."

I skimmed Shirley's text and replied, "Don't sweat it. Just seeing each other again is the best gift."

Shirley went quiet for a moment. Then out of nowhere, she asked, "Do you like cake? I'm actually a decent baker. I could whip one up now and bring it over."

"Nah, it's too late for that," I texted. After a quick pause, I sent her my address. "But I'm having a thank-you party at my place tomorrow with a ton of friends. You should come by."

I could tell this must've been so exciting for Shirley.

That night, my phone blew up with her texts—questions about what to wear to the party, what gift to bring, even prying into the backgrounds of the friends I'd invited.

But I kept my answers vague and distant, never letting her think we were close. Most people would've taken my aloofness as snobbery and backed off.

But Shirley was different. Determined to get out of the life she was stuck in, she was ready to claw her way up by any means necessary, grabbing hold of every rare opportunity that came her way.

She probably took my indifference for the quiet confidence only rich people have.

…

The next morning, Shirley was the first one at my house.

"You're here this early?" I glanced at her, surprised by how polished she looked, and asked out of politeness, "Did you eat yet?"

"Yeah, I already ate."

Shirley handed the cake she was holding to the maid nearby, her movements a little stiff. When she thought I wasn't looking, her eyes kept scanning the room, her expression a mix of envy and admiration.

She asked cautiously, "Lene, how'd you get so rich all of a sudden? Living in a place like this… I heard your birth parents are foreign politicians."

"Who told you that? I can't believe you bought that."

I laughed. It had to be Zach feeding her this nonsense.

Shirley froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and regret. "So your parents…"

I could tell she was still hesitating, so I gestured for her to sit beside me and lowered my voice. "This is just between us. Don't share it with anyone."

Shirley nodded right away. "Of course not. We've been friends since we were kids. I'd never do that to you."

I chose my words carefully, keeping most of the details vague but making one thing clear. "I'm the Zeller family's heiress. I went missing as a child and was only found recently."

"T-Then why haven't you made your identity public?" Shirley's eyes widened, her tone eager as she pressed further. "Was all this money given to you by the Zellers?"

"Of course. Even this villa belongs to them." I gave a small nod and let a troubled frown settle on my face. "It's not that I don't want to reveal who I am. I just can't do it yet, not with the inheritance and the Zeller Group shares in play."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Shirley smiled quickly in agreement, lowering her gaze just enough to hide the calculation in her eyes. "So, when will you take another paternity test?"

"Probably in the next few days," I answered with deliberate indifference, brushing off the question.

Just then, the butler entered with a few of my friends. I stood to greet them, leaving Shirley behind without another glance.

Compared to last night's chaotic gathering at the club, everyone seemed much more composed today.

Jacob looked at Shirley with fake surprise and asked, "Lene, isn't this the waitress from yesterday? Why's she here?"

"I forgot to introduce her. This is my friend, Shirley Doyle. She was an honor student at Alveron University."

I smiled at Shirley and added, "And this is Jacob Quaid, the heir of the Quaid family. He also went to Alveron University, though he's probably two years younger than you."

"Oh, so you're my senior," Jacob said, eyeing Shirley with little interest. "Which college were you in, Shirley? What was your major? I don't think I've ever seen you around."

Shirley looked really uncomfortable. Her answer was stiff. "I graduated a while back. I was in the College of Arts, so it makes sense you wouldn't know me."

I could see Shirley was embarrassed, but I didn't bother to help her. Instead, I tugged Jacob along and joined the others, slipping into their conversation.

We talked about the season's newest luxury items, ski trips to Stravoria, and beach getaways in Merravia—topics Shirley couldn't chime in on. Left with nothing to contribute, she just hovered there, stiff and uneasy.

Zach rushed up to me, looking eager to please. "Babe, sorry I'm late."

I flicked him a cold look and said breezily, "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of something. Learn some manners."

"Sorry, my bad. I didn't mean to interrupt. Go ahead, I'll wait."

Flustered, Zach stepped back, only to suddenly notice Shirley standing nearby.

"What are you doing here?" Zach glanced around nervously before hissing, "I told you not to come yesterday."

"You're here, so why can't I be?" Shirley looked at him with disgust. "We both know you're just after some rich woman. How pathetic—whoring yourself out like this. Does Charlene know you used to be a con artist?"

"Shut the hell up," Zach snapped, his face going pale as he quickly checked if anyone had heard.

Shirley gave him a scornful look and silently reached out to the system in her mind.

The system's voice echoed back. "You have one last swap left. Charlene has beauty, intelligence, an ideal figure, and more. You can pick one to take for yourself."

Shirley answered urgently, "I want to have her background. I want to live her life."

The system paused before finally agreeing. "Very well."

Just before disappearing, it added with a hint of regret, "Let's hope you won't come to regret this."