Chapter 1

During my poorest, most desperate year, I catfished a top-tier billionaire heir online.

By day, I played the aloof, intellectual college student. By night, I transformed into a seductive, curvy siren.

"I really want to see... your abs."

"I miss you so much. I want you to leave marks all over me."

"I like you the most. I miss you so, so much every single night."

"Why won't you look at me..."

The guy remained completely unfazed. He just looked at me with deep, unreadable eyes, playing the part of the cold, distant rich kid perfectly.

Eventually, I got bored and decided to cut and run. But instead of letting me go, he snapped, turning into a dark, obsessive psycho and locked me up.

"You think you can just tease me and run away, you little scammer? I thought you said you liked me the most."

"Don't just act needy online. Show me how much you need me right now."

[Obsessive/Possessive/Curvy/Seductive Little Scammer/Catfishing/Betrayal/Psycho Billionaire Heir]

1

Getting to know Arthur Sterling took every ounce of scheming I possessed.

At first, we connected through a video game. He was a top-ranked player nationally—skilled and incredibly mysterious. My skills just happened to be pretty good too.

During that time, we teamed up every day and played really well together.

I was always following right behind him, showering him with praise.

"Wow, you're amazing!"

"You're so good! Teach me that combo you just did, please?"

He seemed hesitant at first and never used voice chat. Later, maybe because we got a little more familiar, he would occasionally type a two-word reply.

"Okay."

"Thanks."

Even though it was just a few words, his deep, slightly lazy teenage voice was incredibly pleasant.

I felt myself getting a little hooked.

So, one morning after an early class, while a torrential downpour raged outside, I gathered my courage and asked for his WeChat.

The wait felt agonizingly long.

A few hours later, he accepted my request.

His profile picture was a simple, aloof solid black square. His moments were sparse, each containing only a single, simple photo.

I realized he seemed to have traveled to many different places.

Back then, I scrolled through his moments over and over, studying them meticulously, desperately trying to find some common ground to talk about.

So that day, during our introductions, he said his name was Arthur Sterling.

And as if possessed, I replied with a fake name:

Maya Lin.

I said, "Don't you think our names match perfectly?"

(In Chinese, 'Sterling' implies closeness to a building/structure, and 'Maya Lin' sounds like 'Sparse Shadows' from a famous poem about shadows on water).

He said my name sounded very beautiful.

I started cross-referencing the places Arthur had visited with travel guides on social media, using that information to chat with him.

2

During the day, I maintained the persona of a highly educated, aloof intellectual.

We talked about the azure waters of San Andrés Island in Colombia.

The seagulls flying over the crystal-clear sky of Lake Baikal in Siberia.

The splashing droplets of Skógafoss waterfall in Iceland under the sunlight, and the symphony of the aurora borealis dancing over the lava fields.

At the time, I was sitting in a damp study room at A University, rushing to finish competition proposals and lab reports, while simultaneously fantasizing about the world outside.

Thank God for the extraordinary writing talent and imagination I'd possessed since childhood.

Arthur didn't suspect a thing. He gradually started talking to me more and more.

We chatted about a cafe on some unnamed, remote island. Coincidentally, we both agreed that the coffee there tasted bitter but smelled exceptionally rich.

We discussed Haruki Murakami and Kafka, and Camus's notebooks. I told him that the period at the end of every winter is the blooming of spring.

I was incredibly adept at literature. It was the only crack through which I, sitting in the tiny corner of my desk for the first twenty years of my life, had ever glimpsed the grandness of the world.

We talked about a delayed flight in a Nordic country, surprised to find we had both eaten at the incredibly delicious Mexican restaurant near that airport.

We played games together, coordinating flawlessly.

One beautiful, sunny afternoon, I put on makeup and a red dress.

Looking in the mirror, I suddenly felt it would be a shame not to let Arthur see me looking this pretty.

3

So, I deliberately sent him a message.

[I'm stuck on a calculus problem. Could you video call me and explain it to me face-to-face?]

I forced my voice to sound so cutesy I wanted to die.

But what can you do? To catch a man, you have to endure.

He eventually initiated the video call.

That was the first time I ever saw what Arthur looked like.

I had assumed, given his demeanor, that he would look refined and scholarly.

But the moment I saw his face clearly, I was left utterly speechless.

Because he was genuinely, incredibly, breathtakingly handsome.

Not the kind of refined, understated good looks that you have to appreciate slowly, but the kind of striking, visually impactful handsome that hits you the moment you see him.

A high nose bridge, stunning eyes—a bona fide, top-tier gorgeous guy.

He was wearing a hoodie, and when he smiled, there was a hint of a bad-boy edge. But when he wasn't speaking, he looked aloof, exuding a "do not approach" vibe.

I have to admit, every single movement he made made it impossible to look away.

4

I pretended to be calm, pulling out the calculus problem. I adjusted my expression, tilted my head, and smiled at the camera, acting as if I was completely used to guys as handsome as him, casually complimenting him.

"Wow, you look really good."

My rising intonation was intriguing, like a playful kitten. In an instant, Arthur's ears seemed to turn a little red, though his expression remained perfectly calm.

"Let me walk you through this problem."

I nodded obediently.

While explaining the problem, he put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. It masked the sharp, aggressive beauty of his features, adding a touch of scholarly refinement.

As the camera panned past his window, I noticed it was pitch black outside his floor-to-ceiling windows.

Noticing my distraction, he glanced over and explained:

"I'm studying abroad in London. There's a time difference."

I nodded silently.

At that point, my understanding of him was limited to: a wealthy international student in the UK.

After he finished explaining, I quickly showed that I understood and even applied the concept to other problems.

"Thank you! You're amazing, you explain things so well."

To be honest, these so-called "difficult" problems were child's play to me. I was just using them as an excuse to chat with Arthur.

As we interacted more, I started contacting him frequently. He gradually grew accustomed to my presence online.

So, at night, I would video call him again, but with a completely different persona.

I would wear a revealing little camisole, smiling sweetly at the camera, offering subtle, alluring seduction.

I would say ambiguous things, accelerating the heat between us.

"I saw someone today who looked a little bit like you, but it wasn't you. So disappointing."

"Do I look pretty today? I kinda dressed up hoping you'd see."

My voice was sweet, my demeanor flirtatious.

The boy on the screen remained a picture of calm, but his ears would secretly turn red.

5

Then, on one incredibly boring evening, while the campus broadcasting station played music, I decided it was time to introduce a little competition.

I posted a selfie on my WeChat Moments—just me and a handsome underclassman holding our award certificates. I set it so only Arthur could see it.

In the photo, the girl with long, straight black hair had delicate features and a bright smile. The boy next to her was handsome and sunny.

The caption read: Happy moments and happy people are right beside me.

That day, for the first time in a long while, I didn't ask Arthur to play games.

Once a habit is formed, breaking it is actually terrifying.

The guy who was always too aloof to ever comment or like anything on Moments suddenly "liked" my post.

I ignored his "like."

I admit, I'm a bit wicked. I was betting on whether he cared enough about me to actively seek me out just once.

The facts proved I won the bet. That day, I saw that the usually aloof Arthur had visited my gaming profile over a dozen times.

I received a video call from him. Unlike his usual attire, he was wearing a light-colored dress shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal the faint outline of his abs. It was incredibly alluring.

"Does your boyfriend know you're playing games with me?"

"Does he know you tell me countless times every day that you miss me so much... you can't sleep?"

The man's voice was slightly hoarse.

His demeanor was strange, dangerous. The way he looked at me carried an extreme, aggressive intensity.

"Does he know you seduce me every single day, and wake up in the middle of the night to send me voice memos acting spoiled, asking me for hugs... and kisses?"

Arthur paused there, as if savoring something.

He leaned closer to the screen, his handsome face suddenly magnified.

For the first time, I noticed his eyelashes were... really, really long.

His lowered eyes hid his emotions. His ears were bright red. He looked almost sickeningly captivating.

"Or do you just want to use me as your backup plan... for when you're lonely at night?"

6

He was acting all fierce and aggressive, but he looked exactly like a puppy someone brought home, terrified of being abandoned again.

I tilted my head and smiled at him, my eyes curving into crescents. The image I presented to the camera was deliberately designed to be bright, beautiful, and stunning.

"Of course you're not a backup plan."

My tone was gentle, carrying a soothing intimacy.

Like coaxing a left-behind puppy.

Looking right into the camera, I continued to lie calmly. My voice was sickeningly sweet, my head tilted, my smile radiant.

"You're the only person I want to be close to. I really, really like you."

"Actually... are you a little jealous right now?"

The glass window reflected the upward curve of my lips.

I stopped writing in my workbook, revealing the edge of a crumpled piece of scratch paper, while intentionally keeping half of my pale hand in the frame to continue the seduction.

Like an enchanting spirit tempting a monk.

To a spirit, seducing someone into depravity is a fun game.

Especially when the target is so repressed.

For someone so repressed, the contrast is incredibly appealing.

By day, an aloof intellectual who can talk to him about anything, like a perfectly matched best friend.

By night, a seductive, alluring siren.

It had to be fascinating.

As if to distract himself, he pulled out the math problem I had asked him about earlier.

His expression remained calm as he put on his gold-rimmed glasses, adding a layer of scholarly restraint, though the teardrop mole by his eye was stunningly beautiful.

He started explaining L'Hôpital's rule again.

His voice was crisp and deep.

I rested my chin on my hand, staring at the screen.

Watching his pale skin flush a faint pink under the warm light.

Such a fake prude.

I was determined to dance all over his boundaries, making his facade crumble piece by piece.

So when Arthur got to Taylor series expansions, I reached out and traced the outline of his bobbing Adam's apple on the screen, my expression perfectly innocent.

"Arthur, right here... it's moving.

"If I said I really want to bite it... would you be mad?"

I tilted my head, my black hair cascading down my waist, and smiled at the camera.

It was the optimal angle I had specifically tested and adjusted that morning.

In an instant, his fountain pen clattered onto the desk. The boy's ears turned completely red.

On the screen, behind Arthur, was the moonlight of London at 3:00 AM.

Staring into the camera, I suddenly asked:

"Do you know what a Klein bottle is?"

His Adam's apple bobbed in the shadows.

"A four-dimensional manifold projected into three-dimensional space."

I pulled my knees up, letting my nightgown slip down my thigh. My fingertip traced the hollow beneath my collarbone as I looked at the camera, my eyes sparkling.

"Wrong. It's a container that can never be filled.

"Just like every time I say I miss you, Arthur, I haven't actually said it enough."

I spoke every word with absolute, audacious seriousness.

"Arthur, I really want my DNA to intertwine with your double helix..."

The video suddenly went black, leaving only the sound of Arthur's hoarse breathing.

He had turned off his camera, seemingly afraid I would see him lose control from arousal.

The very next second, the usually aloof man's alternate Twitter account updated. It sounded like an accusation, but also like he was acting spoiled:

[Met a little fox. So wicked.]

[But she's really, really... kind of cute.]

At the same time, I received two WeChat messages on my phone.

[You ungrateful wretch. So what if your sister stole your boyfriend?! Are you going to hold a grudge forever?! You've let her have everything since you were little, why can't you let her have this?!]

[If you don't come back and go on those blind dates this year, we're stopping your grandmother's medical treatments.]

Arthur... it's quite laughable, really.

Like Cinderella at the ball, that moment was the collision of glamour and harsh reality.

All the poetry and distant horizons I had constructed collapsed in an instant.

Only I knew that I was absolutely not the "Maya Lin" who was a perfect match for Arthur Sterling.

That was just a name I made up on the spot.

Yes, I am just that kind of terrible woman.

Very, very terrible.

So, Arthur, when I later heard you telling everyone that my smile was as bright as the sun, I just stayed silent.

Arthur, just like the name Maya Lin—so perfectly matched to you—it was all fake.

My real name is Chloe Price. An ordinary, forgettable name.

Arthur, you definitely didn't know back then that even our very first "encounter" was the result of my meticulous planning.

7

Yes, adding Arthur was not a spontaneous accident.

I had heard of his reputation the very first year I started college. He was the most famous upperclassman A University had seen in a decade. Just one photo of him posted on the campus confession wall was enough to get talent scouts asking around.

Not only was he gorgeous, but his family background was mysterious and low-key.

No one knew what his family did, only that every time he was dropped off at school, it was in a different, ultra-luxury car.

I had caught a fleeting glimpse of him on campus once. It was pouring rain, and he was standing under a streetlamp holding an umbrella. His features were moody and striking. A short distance away, a car was waiting for him.

The reason I remember it so clearly is because that day was my birthday.

And just thirty minutes prior, I had received a call from my mother.

She demanded I transfer the money I had saved from my part-time jobs to my sister, Mia, because Mia wanted a pair of really nice sneakers.

Absurd, isn't it?

On my birthday, my mother, who hadn't cared about me for months, called me.

I answered the phone full of joy, thinking she finally cared about me after all.

But I got nothing.

She just glared at me, looking impatient.

"Transfer $300 to your sister. She's more delicate than you; she needs name-brand shoes.

"Stop dawdling and transfer it right now."

I stared at the money I had just earned from my part-time job on my phone, frozen for a long time.

Mia got $300 a month for living expenses, while I got absolutely nothing.

I worked part-time and studied hard, paying for my own tuition.

But in the end, on my birthday, she still demanded I transfer my money to buy shoes for my sister.

At the same time, Mia sent me a message.

"Hehe, Sis, Mom chose me again this time."

8

It rained heavily that day, and I couldn't tell the difference between my tears and the rain.

I only remember feeling incredibly pathetic. So pathetic I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I crouched down and buried my face in my knees. I didn't want the world to see me like that.

I thought, Why?

Why is it like this?

In that moment, I desperately wanted to climb higher.

I wanted to work hard, so hard, to escape that toxic family.

I wanted a lot, a lot of money.

I told fate: Don't give me a chance. If you do, I will never let go. I will use every means necessary.

And right at that moment, Arthur appeared.

In the distance, the door of a luxury car slowly opened, and he had someone hand me an umbrella.

Through the gaps in my fingers, I saw his beautiful hands, and then that face.

It wasn't that I didn't know who Arthur was. His face was plastered all over the campus forums in countless candid photos.

Graduation was approaching, and he rarely came to campus anymore. I heard he was going abroad to study.

I was a bit unhinged back then.

I suddenly thought:

I had just questioned fate, and fate had given me an answer.

I had this dark, twisted thought: Did fate choose him? Did fate want me to conquer Arthur?

Facing the torrential downpour, my obsession and confusion grew wild.

I wanted to escape, I wanted a lot of money, and he just happened to have a lot of money...

9

I had a long dream that day.

In the dream, I was five years old, and Mia was trying to steal my essay competition certificate.

The oleander outside the window was blooming vibrantly, exactly at its most brilliant peak.

I ran over excitedly to show my mom the certificate, but my sister said she wanted it.

She said "Chloe has to let her little sister have it," so she made me give the certificate to Mia.

Tears blurred my vision, and then I watched with my own eyes as Mia used my second-place certificate as a coaster for her hot soup bowl.

She kicked her little leather shoes, giggling. She said, "Sister, whatever you like, I'm going to steal it.

"I'm going to use your honors as my stepping stones."

She also said, "Sister, you can never beat me. I'm going to win every single time."

10

The dream flashed forward, returning to high school.

My first boyfriend in high school, Liam, was a somewhat well-known rich kid. He pursued me quite passionately for a while.

But his intentions weren't pure. We hadn't even been dating for two months before he pressured me to go to a hotel with him.

Of course I refused. I'm a very smart person.

I wasn't willing to take any risks that could jeopardize my future.

Liam got mad, gave me the silent treatment, and threatened me. And during that exact time, Mia had long been plotting and proactively added him on WeChat.

She had always been like this since we were kids. She loved stealing my things. When I got a boyfriend, she naturally had to steal him too.

The next time I saw them was one afternoon. Liam's neck was covered in hickeys from Mia. He had his arm around her while he frowned and degraded me.

"What's the point of being pretty? What's the point of being first in the class if you won't let me touch you?

"Boring. No guy likes a girl like that."

Mia stood behind him, smiling triumphantly.

"Sister, I won again.

"Dad loves me, Mom loves me, and even your boyfriend loves me. You really are a pathetic loser."

In the dream, my breathing stalled, like a violent, crushing tide.

Huge tears rolled down my face.

I said I wanted to bloom. I wanted to bloom.