My parents set me up on a marriage match—and it turned out to be my girlfriend, Chloe.

I was hyped. I went straight to the luxury boutique where she worked, ready to tell her.

Then I stopped outside the VIP room.

"Chloe, if you're dumping him, just do it. Why fake cancer? You're putting bad juju on yourself."

"What do you know? A dead ex sticks forever. Next week, I'm getting engaged to a Remington. Having an ex like me? That's his win."

Inside, her friends hyped her up. Laughter all around.

I just stood there, cold spreading through me.

Three years. A joke to her.

She was trading up—and still playing me one last time.

I clenched my jaw and called my mom.

"Mom, cancel the engagement... No rush. I'll handle it myself."

I hung up, turned, and walked out. Ended up in a café, sitting there forever, until my phone buzzed.

Chloe.

[Babe, weren't you coming to help my sales today? I've been waiting forever. Still busy?]

Playful. Clingy.

I didn't answer. Just opened her profile.

Every post—me.

Three years together, and I never once questioned her "luxury sales" act.

She played it perfectly.

The day we met, she was in black. I figured she worked there and asked for a men's bag.

She didn't hesitate. Smooth. Professional.

We swapped contacts, and not long after, she started chasing me.

I told her I was a finance manager. Kept my real identity hidden. I didn't want her loving my money instead of me.

Turns out, we were both playing roles.

I caught feelings. She was killing time.

Guess I took too long to reply—my phone started ringing. Chloe.

The second I picked up, she sounded anxious. "Babe, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Working late. Can't make it."

I kept it calm, took a sip of coffee. Bitter.

"But I'm still one bag short this month... ugh..."

"I'll come later."

I cut her off. I already knew the script.

The disappointment flipped fast—gone, replaced with excitement. She said she'd wait for me at the store.

It played out like this every month. Chloe had it down to a science.

She knew I earned $10,000 a month, so she used me to hit her quota—she'd push a $9,000 bag, then tack on another $500 in "required" extras.

Ridiculous.

I never questioned it. Ten grand meant nothing to me. When she got paid, she sent back a fifth.

My "salary" just came back smaller.

The second I walked in, Chloe was on me, guiding me straight into the VIP room.

Men's bags lined the table.

Each one priced at more than triple my "salary."

I looked at her. She rushed me into a seat.

"Babe, I'm trying to transfer to a brand under Remington Group. There's an internal referral opening. Can you help me get an exotic leather bag? I want to gift it to my contact. He's helping me get in—and once I'm making more, you won't have to work so hard."

She took my hand, all soft and thoughtful.

I didn't answer. Just looked down at my wrist.

An "expensive" watch. Her gift.

Fake.

I'd seen enough real ones to know. The only thing blinding me—was her.

"Babe, you don't want to?" Her voice dipped, sounding hurt.

I looked at her. She could win an Oscar.

Fine. If she wanted a show, I'd give her one.

I forced a tight smile, played it helpless. "Chloe, even the cheapest one here would take me half a year to afford."

Her face flickered, then she pushed on. "Babe... I'm sick. I need to get into Remington Group, make more for treatment. I don't want to drag you down."

I almost laughed.

Instead, I leaned in, all concern. "What is it? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... lung cancer. The doctor said treatment might buy me some time."

She looked wrecked. I pulled her into my arms.

Lung cancer. She really went all in on the lie.

In the end, I pulled out my card and dropped a year's "salary" on one bag.

On my way out, I kept it casual. "Chloe, get me an exotic leather one too."

She snapped, "You're just a worker. You wouldn't even use it."

Then she froze, scrambling. "I mean—it's too expensive. Not worth bringing to work."

I smiled like I bought it and walked out.

Back at my place, Lucy, the housekeeper, was waiting, all smiles.

"Sir, the Mercer family sent a gift. Said it's for the upcoming meeting."

I crossed to the coffee table and opened it.

The same exotic leather bag I'd just seen in the store.

Under the light, the gray-white leather gave off a soft glow.

Too bad—I didn't like the person who sent it anymore.

I'd known Chloe's real identity for a while. I'd just gotten back to Arlencia—barely anyone had seen me.

Remington Group was huge, everywhere. Mercer Group? A step behind.

When my mom gave me three options, I picked Chloe without thinking.

I wanted to surprise her at the engagement.

Didn't expect I was just her time-killer.

"Put it in storage. I'm not using it."

After telling Lucy, I went to my room, dropped onto the bed, and passed out.

The next morning, my phone dragged me awake.

Chloe told me to get to the mall. No reason.

When I got there, she was at a counter, checking out luxury watches.

She turned, smiling. "Babe, I guess my Remington contact didn't like the bag. Help me pick a watch instead?"

She was glowing.

My eyes dropped to the Rolex in her hand. I glanced at the fake on my wrist and let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.

She caught it. Took my hand, all serious. "Babe, don't worry. Once I get into Remington Group and work hard—after I'm cured—I'll buy you an even better watch than this."

I met her eyes and nodded.

"What about this one? It looks more high-end. Or this one? I heard my Remington contact is pretty low-key—maybe the darker one fits better?"

She kept going.

My chest just went cold.

For someone she'd never even met, she put in all this thought. I gave her three years—and got a fake watch.

I snapped back. She was holding up two watches.

"Babe, you're a guy too. You decide!"

One platinum. One dark green. Both shining under the lights.

I watched for a second, then pointed. "This one."

The platinum.

Truth was, I liked the dark green.

Chloe lit up and told the clerk to wrap it. She moved in close beside me, voice soft. "Babe, I got you something too."

Like it was treasure, she pulled out a silver ring.

I knew it. Some dollar-store spot a couple miles away. Ten bucks.

"Babe, once I'm making real money, I'll get you the best."

She slid it onto my middle finger, smiling to herself, talking about how good it looked.

The clerk handed over the boxed Rolex and the card. Chloe thanked them, grabbed my hand, and we headed out.

"I'm hungry. Let's get a seafood boil." I stopped.

She was still smiling. "Sure, let's go."

Finding the "perfect" gift had her in a great mood. It wasn't peak hours, so the place was almost empty. Our food still wasn't out.

I sat across from her, watching her tap away on her phone.

Finally, she looked up. "Babe, wanna try the watch?" She glanced at the Rolex.

I shook my head. "No. Don't wanna mess it up."

She'd already opened the box. "It's fine. Try it. You're not getting another chance to wear something this expensive."

I froze. Her words kept looping in my head.

The cold metal hit my wrist. She fumbled with the clasp—and something in me pushed back. I yanked my hand away.

Next second, the watch dropped straight into the pot of spicy broth.

I didn't even move before Chloe grabbed the tongs and fished it out.

By the time she got it back, it was slick with red chili oil. No clue how much got inside.

Her face went cold.

She said nothing. Packed it up and stood to leave.