Chapter 1

My girlfriend had accumulated a massive debt to treat her mother's illness.

To repay the debt, we worked at the company during the day and took on part-time jobs in the evenings and weekends.

That day, I disguised myself as a male ghost NPC, lurking in the corner of an escape room, ready to scare the incoming guests as per the routine.

Soon, a couple stumbled in, disheveled and kissing.

The man gasped:

"Camille, let me see the lace lingerie I gave you today. I want to tear it apart!"

"We've already torn seven today... and we still have to go to the hotel for your mother's birthday tonight..."

I thought it was a coincidence. Camille's mother was in a vegetative state, hospitalized for years.

The next second, the woman noticed me and threw the warm lingerie and cash at my face.

"Shut your eyes and get out!"

Blood seeped from my forehead, but I stood frozen.

That voice belonged to the woman I had loved for three years.

...

"Ethan, what are you doing? Don't disturb Ms. Grandelle and her boyfriend. Get out now!"

The manager's voice in my earpiece snapped me back to reality.

I picked up the props and fled the room in disarray, the sounds of intimacy following me.

When I reached the front desk, I looked down at what I was holding.

Among the plastic props and red paint was the lingerie and the stack of money.

The money was thick, at least twenty thousand dollars, brand new and sequentially numbered. No wonder it had cut my forehead.

If this money hadn't been thrown at me while my girlfriend was intimate with another man, I would have been thrilled.

I might have even taken a photo and sent it to Camille, boasting:

"Look, we have enough for your mother's medical expenses this month. You don't have to work so hard."

But now... Ms. Grandelle?

Was this really the same person who, to save money for her mother's treatment, split every dollar, shared a rental apartment with me, ate instant noodles, and promised me happiness?

If the man inside was her boyfriend, what was I?

The items in my arms fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Several wealthy young women sitting at the front desk glanced over and chuckled knowingly:

"Camille's unattainable love just returned, and she's already this eager. She's torn dozens of lingerie these past few days, hasn't she? She's so generous, each piece costs over a hundred thousand dollars. Isn't she afraid that poor guy will find out?"

"Why should she be? Camille is rich. What can that poor guy do even if he finds out? Liam went abroad three years ago, and Camille only dated that guy out of spite. Now that Liam is back, what does that guy matter? It's a pity Camille had to pretend to be poor for three years."

"Camille has always been a romantic, swearing she'd only marry Liam and spend money on him. No other man could touch her. That Ethan actually believed her lies, working hard to help her repay debts and save her mother. It's hilarious..."

Their words struck me like thunder, causing my insides to ache.

They were excitedly watching the monitor, and I followed their gaze, my breath catching.

Under the night vision camera, the woman was on top of the man, passionately entangled, expressing their longing.

Even in the dim light, even with only a side profile, I recognized her instantly.

I had never seen Camille so passionate and wild in the three years we were together.

She suddenly looked at the camera, quickly covered Liam with her jacket, and grabbed a skull to throw at it.

"Get out! How dare you watch Liam? I'll gouge your eyes out if you look again!"

The screen turned to static, and someone awkwardly rubbed their nose:

"The light is so dim, and she covered Liam so well. What could we see? Camille is so protective."

"A few days ago, we joked about admiring Ethan's physique, and she just smiled and nodded. But Liam is her heart and soul. The treatment is different."

I clenched my fists, then let them go weakly.

It turns out that when faced with an unbearable truth, the first reaction isn't anger but disbelief.

The manager reminded me three times that I could remove my makeup and leave, but I stubbornly remained in place.

I couldn't believe that the person they described as playing with emotions was the woman I had loved for three years.

An hour later, the woman walked out of the escape room, arm in arm with Liam.

The bright light outlined Camille's delicate face, shattering my self-deception completely.

Liam's neck was covered in hickeys. He noticed the wound on my forehead and said apologetically:

"Hey, man, my girlfriend has a bit of a temper. Sorry about that. Don't take it to heart. She's just very possessive of me."

"Camille, compensate him."

Camille's eyes met mine, and I thought she recognized me.

I hoped she would explain, even if she denied the "girlfriend" title, making me feel less like a joke.

Instead, she took out a check, scribbled a number, and tossed it at my feet, saying coldly:

"Keep your mouth shut. If you spread any rumors that tarnish Liam's reputation, I won't let you off."

After three years together, I could recognize her in the dark.

Now, I stood right in front of her, only wearing NPC makeup, yet she was too busy warning me not to damage her "boyfriend's" reputation.

Did she really not recognize me, or had I never mattered to her?

Camille linked arms with Liam and walked toward the Bentley outside, opening the door for him and fastening his seatbelt before driving away.

From start to finish, she didn't look at me again.

As I watched the limited-edition Rolls-Royce with the "A" license plate, a bitter feeling welled up inside me.

Because we were saving money to repay debts and pay for medical expenses, we couldn't afford a car, only a second-hand scooter.

Countless times, when luxury cars with handsome men passed by, Camille would point at them and say to me:

"Ethan, just wait. I'll make sure you ride in a car like that one day. The passenger seat will be yours alone."

Back then, I thought that even if I had to ride a scooter for the rest of my life, having her say that made me the happiest man alive.

Now she had a luxury car, but the man in the passenger seat wasn't me.