Chapter 1: Maid Outfits and Bullet Comments

At our family gathering, I was zoning out so hard I barely noticed Aunt Carol was on her third Chardonnay, ranting about her book club’s betrayal over picking a Nicholas Sparks novel again.

Bored, I snapped a quick selfie and sent it to my online boyfriend: pale as printer paper, waist cinched tight, the black-and-white maid outfit clinging like it was made for Instagram thirst traps.

Sitting across from me was my stepbrother Nathan—the always-frosty, too-perfect guy with the kind of bone structure that makes you wonder if he moonlights as a GQ model or just shops at Barney’s for sport.

Suddenly, I caught him swallowing hard, his ears went bright red, like a kid busted sneaking a peek at an R-rated movie.

Then, like some bizarre AR filter, rows of bullet comments popped up in my line of sight:

【Supporting female character, you’re so confused! Girl, you’re so busy chasing your online boo, you’re missing the snack sitting right in front of you!】

【If the supporting female character keeps seducing the male lead like this, he really can’t hold back anymore. Be careful he kisses you to death!】

【Has little treasure not noticed her clothes keep going missing? That maid outfit is totally about to be next.】

**Chapter One**

When those floating texts suddenly started scrolling across my vision like some twisted livestream, I almost dropped my phone.

I glanced up at Nathan Hayes, sitting across from me, trying to figure out if I’d lost my mind.

He was buttoned up in some designer suit that probably cost more than my rent, his shirt fastened all the way to the top like he was allergic to fun. He looked abstinent as hell, like he’d never even heard of a good time.

But the flush hadn’t left his ears, a tiny crack in that marble-perfect mask.

A wicked idea hit me. If those floating texts were right, maybe I could get a reaction out of Mr. Stoneface.

I picked up my glass of milk and sipped, letting my lips linger on the rim. A drop slid from the corner of my mouth, leaving a milky trail down my collarbone, disappearing under the neckline—just suggestive enough for PG-13.

Nathan shot me a look, and for a second, his eyes went dark and stormy, like clouds rolling over Lake Michigan.

He pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief—seriously, who even carries handkerchiefs anymore? Was this guy raised by Emily Post?—and handed it over, his long fingers steady, though I could see the tension in his jaw. He frowned, sighing: "Seriously, Soph? You’re twenty-two, not two. Maybe I should get you a sippy cup."

Bullet comments pinged in rapid-fire succession:

【Yoooo, the male lead is still pretending to be a gentleman! Actually he’s just a sick and twisted pervert!】

【Tsk tsk, obviously wanting to replace the milk with his own.】

【Little treasure’s lips are so soft.】

I didn’t take the handkerchief. Instead, I leaned in close—close enough to catch a whiff of his expensive, woodsy cologne—and guided his hand to wipe away the milk, my skin warm against his fingers.

I flashed him my most charming smile, fluttering my lashes: "Thanks, Nathan."

Nathan’s hand froze in mid-air, like he’d just glitched. For a moment that stretched forever, he just stared, then withdrew coolly, tucking the handkerchief away with surgeon-level precision.

"Take your time eating. I’ll head back to my room." His voice was calm and professional, like he was excusing himself from a board meeting.

But as he walked away, bullet comments scrolled by like a crowd losing their minds at a season finale:

【Sigh, the male lead is going back to his room to take a cold shower again.】

【Male lead: Really want to be a terracotta warrior, because staying cool is so hard~】

【On the surface too lazy to look at little treasure one more time, actually his room is covered with her photos. Can’t wait to go back and appreciate them properly.】