I looked Clark up and down, a mocking smile curling on my lips. “Not bad. Looks like you’re doing better now than you used to.”

He stiffened. “What nonsense are you talking about? Do I know you?”

His eyes darted with panic. I simply raised an eyebrow and said nothing. He remembered me—how could he not?

A few years ago, before he ever made it into the entertainment industry, I kept him around for two months. He was barely out of school, immature, and arrogant for no reason. I paid his rent, bought his clothes, but he couldn’t even be bothered to pour me a glass of water. If I hadn’t been too busy back then, I would’ve kicked him out long before the two months were up.

Before I could say more, the door to the room swung open.

“Sis!” my sister cried, eyes lighting up. “When did you get back? I missed you so much!”

She threw herself into my arms like a wounded deer seeking shelter, her frame trembling slightly. I hugged her tight, then shot Clark a cold glance over her shoulder. A silent warning.

But the netizens had their own interpretation.

[Oh damn… do both sisters like the same man? That’s messed up.]

[Cara Hartman doesn’t look innocent at all. This is going to be fun.]

Inside the room, Stella didn’t say much about the bullying. Instead, she looked up at me with confusion. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a guest now,” I said simply.

She blinked. “Really?” Then, remembering we were still on live broadcast, she fell silent.

Not long after, there was a knock on the door. Clark and Paula stood outside.

“Stella,” Paula chirped sweetly, “I convinced Clark to help you with the task. Since I earned today’s reward, I thought I’d treat everyone to dinner. Would you and your sister like to come along?”

Paula’s tone was light, friendly—even generous. But I knew what she was doing. This was a subtle flex, a show of dominance disguised as kindness.

Stella, ever the sweet and trusting one, didn’t see it. She smiled brightly. “Thank you so much, Sister Paula! I haven’t eaten all day.”

Cue the barrage of hate again.

[Seriously? Paula was just being polite. Does Stella really not get it?]

[Taking your sister to tag along too? What a third wheel.]

[Starve for a day and act like it’s someone else’s fault? She didn’t even try in the challenge.]

Still, my sister pulled me along. We followed them down to the parking area, but just as we approached the car, Paula suddenly stopped.

“Ah… this is awkward,” she said, feigning concern. “The car’s only a four-seater, but there’s five of us…”

I scrolled lazily through the comments on my phone. Netizens were busy gushing over Paula’s “grace” and “generosity.”

I arched an eyebrow, locked my screen, and looked up.

“If I remember correctly,” I said coolly, “this car was a reward for Stella completing her task, wasn’t it?”

Paula faltered. “Yes, but… I did invite you, right? You wouldn’t stop me from joining, would you? I mean, I can always take another car. It’s really fine.”

Retreating to gain sympathy—how textbook. She knew netizens would start rallying around her again.

My sister looked like she wanted to smooth things over, but I beat her to it, flashing Paula a polite smile.

“Oh, I think you misunderstood. I just meant I can’t let you treat us to dinner for free. I’ll drive.”

Then I opened the back door and added casually, “Love teams should sit together, right? You and Clark take the backseat. Stella will ride shotgun.”

Paula froze.

Her screen love interest on the show was Adam Holloway. Pairing with Clark publicly would sabotage her carefully crafted on-screen romance. But backing out now would be even more humiliating. So, with a stiff smile, she nodded and got in the car.

Once everyone was inside, Clark realized he was the odd one out—with no seat left for him. He rushed toward me, a little flustered.

“I’m Stella’s partner. I should drive.”

He reached for the keys, but I leaned back casually against the driver’s side door, smiling coolly.

“My sister may have picked you, but you said you were forced into it. No need to force yourself again, right? It’s better for everyone.”

I had used his own words against him. His face turned pale.

Just then, the rear window of the car slid down, and Paula leaned her head out with a syrupy smile.

"Stella's sister," she said sweetly, "I was only able to complete my mission today thanks to Clark’s help. It wouldn’t be right to leave him behind when we go for dinner, don’t you think?"

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Ah, there it was—the veiled accusation that I was freeloading off her “generosity.”

I folded my arms and replied evenly, “Then how about this—you get out, and my sister and I will cover our own dinner.”

The smile slipped from her face. Paula yanked the door open with a snap. “Fine! If you want to get out, get out. The program team made me spend my own money today anyway!”

She stepped out and turned to Stella, eyebrows raised in faux concern. “Stella, think about this carefully. You didn’t complete your mission. Even if you have a car, you won’t be allowed to eat. But I earned today’s reward—I can pay for dinner.”

I tilted my head, still smiling. “Are you trying to guilt my sister into abandoning me? Or are you hoping she’ll feel bad that her partner helped you instead and lost her the right to eat?”

Paula flinched. “Of course not! That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Of course not,” I echoed with a pleasant smile. “I believe you. Since you’re happy to spend your own money, then you should have no problem calling a taxi.”

With that, I slid into the driver’s seat and turned to the last remaining guest still in the car—Adam.

“If you don’t mind being the third wheel, you’re welcome to join us.”

Adam, ever the seasoned veteran, met my gaze calmly. He understood exactly what was happening. Paula and Clark were hyping a love interest storyline; Stella was positioned as the contrast, the foil. And he? He was the disposable pawn in their script.

“I appreciate it,” he said simply, settling back into his seat. “I’d rather not play lightbulb tonight.”

[Is this a love team breakup?!]

[Honestly, good. Paula and Clark are the real match.]

[LOL, Cara thought she was flexing, but she just got embarrassed.]

[Clark was Stella’s partner, but helped Paula instead. Now Paula’s mocking Stella for failing the mission? That’s low.]

[Don’t be fooled. The show set this up deliberately—classic drama bait. Adam should’ve distanced himself from the Hartman sisters while he had the chance.]

I was about to start the car when a knock tapped at my window.

I rolled it down to find Paula there again, putting on her best “concerned” expression.

“The program team doesn’t allow guests to spend personal money. Even if you're new, you still have to follow the rules.”

I nodded. “I’m aware.”

“But if you really want to eat something, I can cover it for you.” Her voice was light, generous—for the cameras.

I glanced at her, then smiled faintly. “Thanks, but no. I’d hate to max out your card.”

[Cara is so ungrateful.]

[She's nasty. Paula just offered to pay, and she has to be rude?]

[The Hartman sisters are a pair—one’s a sob story factory, the other a toxic alpha.]

“Sis…” Stella tugged at my sleeve, her voice small. She was reminding me: this was still live.

I shut the window and shifted into drive. “I’m serious. I’m doing her a favor—credit cards have limits.”

The hate poured in through the livestream barrage, but I didn’t care. I drove straight to the most exclusive chain of luxury restaurants in the country.

When we pulled up, Adam finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“Are you sure about this place?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded. “Absolutely. If we’re not eating here, then what’s the point?”

“The program won’t cover this,” Adam reminded me, his voice laced with concern.

I nodded calmly. “I don’t plan on asking them to. Besides, they couldn’t afford it.”

This wasn’t just any restaurant. It was one of the most exclusive establishments in the country—and even internationally renowned. Just stepping inside cost 10,000 dollars per person. Breathing the air here practically came with a surcharge.

As we approached the entrance, a uniformed receptionist stepped forward. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

My sister didn’t seem surprised. She clung to my arm and looked around curiously, wide-eyed but trusting.

Adam, on the other hand, looked like he was starting to regret everything. He was visibly tense behind us, mentally calculating the costs. I should’ve stayed in the car, he was probably thinking.

Meanwhile, the program crew was practically in a meltdown. They’d been told an investor wanted me in the show, but no one had told them that the investor was me. Now they were nervously wondering who’d foot the bill for this outrageous meal.

I handed over a sleek black card.

The receptionist took one glance, then her entire demeanor changed. She bowed slightly and gestured inside with practiced grace. “Ms. Hartman, this way please.”

[Wait. Did they just… let her in like that?]

[What kind of card was that? No way that was a black card?!]

[She just walked into a top-floor private room. The kind you can’t even book with money.]

[Hold up… is she actually a rich woman?!]

Adam caught up with me, still trying to keep his cool.

“What was that card? They let in the three of us plus the cameramen. That’s six people—almost 60,000 dollars. You’re seriously…”

I passed him the card. “Just a business card,” I said lightly. “Sometimes, your name opens more doors than money ever could.”

Not only did I bring in the crew filming us, I also arranged for the rest of the program staff to have their own private dining room.

A few minutes later, my sister tugged my sleeve. “Sister, Sister Paula just messaged me asking where we are. She says she wants to treat us.”

I smiled. “Send her the location. Whether she comes or not is her choice.”

Across from me, Adam surveyed the table full of exquisitely plated dishes. He gave me a thumbs-up. “You’re seriously loaded.”

The meal alone would’ve cleared six figures.

I just raised a brow and smiled. Wealth is the most boring thing about me—but also the most useful.

Eventually, Paula and Clark showed up—but not before the restaurant manager personally came into the room.

“Ms. Hartman, there are two guests at the entrance who claim to be with your party,” he said politely.

I took a sip of my chilled nutrition shake and replied coolly, “Ah, they’re here to pay.”

The manager immediately understood. “I’ll handle it.”

By the time Paula and Clark finally walked in, the meal was over.

“You paid with your own money, didn’t you?” Paula asked sharply, unable to hide her frustration.

Apparently, they’d been told the bill for the two of them was 20,000 dollars. To them, it must’ve felt like daylight robbery.

“It’s useless to speculate,” I said as I waited for the valet to bring my car around.

Paula wasn’t done. “If it wasn’t your money, then the program team must’ve covered it. That’s really unfair. They might cover costs sometimes, but a restaurant like this? It’s way over budget.”

I tilted my head. “You think this place is expensive?”

Paula hesitated, trying to sound reasonable. “I get it—you want to experience the high life. But the show has limits. You really should write an IOU. The team has been good to you. You could pay it back slowly.”

At that moment, Adam finally spoke, his tone firm. “Paula, Cara didn’t pay for that meal.”

As her show love interest, he couldn’t just sit back and let her run wild—especially when the audience was watching.

And I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to ride the wave, pick up favor with viewers. I didn’t call him out on it. Sometimes it’s fine to let someone take a little credit.

Paula blinked, stunned. “What do you mean she didn’t pay? Are you saying she just ate for free?”

Adam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because how could he explain what was so obvious now?

Faced with Paula’s questioning, Adam stayed silent.

Just then, the restaurant manager hurried out after us, holding a delicate jewelry box and a set of car keys. “Ms. Hartman, our boss just called. He asked us to prepare a small gift for you.”

I barely glanced at the items. “So tacky.”

Still, I took them and tossed them casually into my sister’s arms, then slid into the car without offering a single word of explanation and drove off.

In the passenger seat, my sister opened the jewelry box with wide eyes. “These earrings are gorgeous!” she said, holding them up to the light. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.

I responded without even glancing at her. “Run the bath when we get back. I feel like soaking.”

“Don’t worry, sis. I’ve got you covered. You just relax,” she said sweetly, slipping the earrings into her ears with a satisfied grin.

After returning to the filming location, I took my bath in her room. When she told me the director had called everyone downstairs, I threw on a face mask and headed out.

“Tomorrow,” the director announced once the cast had gathered, “each couple will choose one person to take the other home for dinner—meet the family, visit their friends, share their lives.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Clark abruptly stood up.

“Director, I want to switch couples.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Even Paula blushed, clearly caught off guard but pleased by the public gesture. She hadn’t expected Clark to challenge the program for her.

Only I smiled, amused.

“You want to switch couples?” I said slowly. “What’s wrong, Clark? Don’t want to come to my house with Stella? Or are you afraid of Stella showing up at yours?”

I let the silence sit for a beat. “Can’t blame you. If I were you, I’d be scared too.”