"Hey, can I add you on WeChat?"

Inside Beian Restaurant, Evangeline Whitfield had just lost a round of truth-or-dare at her college reunion and got pushed into coming over to flirt with a stranger.

Right in front of her sat a man who looked to be around thirty. He was wearing a perfectly tailored smoke-gray suit without a single crease. His whole vibe was calm, expensive, and untouchable. His features were so sharp they almost looked unreal, like they’d been carved on purpose. High nose bridge, strong brow bone, clean-cut jawline, every line of his face hitting just right. His dark eyes were lowered, and those long, neat fingers of his were lazily flipping through a file.

Maybe he had heard her.

The man slowly closed the file, then reached for the phone beside him.

Evangeline’s lips curled up at once, and she felt a little smug.

See? No one could really resist her. Figure, face, the whole package—basically flawless. He was probably about to add her, right? Ha.

But the cold-faced man didn’t even spare her a glance. He just lifted the phone straight to his ear.

"There are too many problems with the merger plan. Redo it. If I don’t get a flawless version before ten, get out of Ashford Group."

His voice was low and smooth, but the pressure in it was insane, enough to make people’s scalps go numb.

Standing there beside him, Evangeline’s pretty face froze on the spot.

So... he wasn’t trying to add her at all.

And obviously, this guy was in a terrible mood today.

If she’d known, she never would’ve picked him for the dare. The task had only been to get a random man’s WeChat in the restaurant. She’d looked around the room and chosen him because, out of everyone there, he was the only one attractive enough to catch her eye. Who knew she’d end up kicking an iron plate?

Evangeline refused to believe he was rejecting her on purpose. In her mind, he just hadn’t heard her clearly. So she stepped closer again toward the man radiating pure icy don’t-talk-to-me energy, raised her voice, and asked, "Sir, can I add you on WeChat?"

This time, even the nearby tables all turned to look at her.

Clearly, unless the man was deaf, there was no way he hadn’t heard that.

And yet, he simply picked up another file and started reading it expressionlessly, treating her like she didn’t exist from start to finish.

Evangeline’s mentality fully cracked.

Even if he didn’t want to add her, couldn’t he at least say something? Just leaving her hanging there like air? How was there actually a man this arrogant and rude in the world?

Fuming, she stormed back to her table, practically trailing gunpowder from her nose.

The college classmates at the reunion immediately started mocking her.

"Evangeline Whitfield, I told you from the start. If you'd just asked some waiter for his WeChat, this round would've been an easy clear."

"Exactly. But no, she had to go after that guy who looked impossible to pick up. Seriously though, why does he look kind of familiar? Hasn't he been on the news or something?"

"Oh, come on, stop yapping. Don't hold up Evangeline's penalty drink!"

At that, Evangeline's eyes dimmed a little.

"A bet's a bet. I'll drink."

She grabbed the bottle off the table, flicked the cap open with her fingertips, and tipped her head back. In the blink of an eye, three bottles were gone.

She let out a harsh breath reeking of alcohol and said coolly, "Done. Next round."

A new game started, and the whole reunion got lively again.

Then, out of nowhere, someone tossed out a line like a grenade. "I heard Tristan Adams and Lydia Sinclair have been busy planning their wedding lately. Evangeline, you got the invitation already, right?"

Evangeline's expression froze on the spot.

Tristan Adams. Lydia Sinclair. They were actually getting married?

Without warning, that ugly scene from a year ago crashed back into her mind. Her ex-boyfriend, Tristan Adams. Her so-called best friend, Lydia Sinclair...

It felt like someone had ripped open a crack in her chest, raw and bloody. Her fingers tightened around the bottle before she even realized it.

Snap!

The bottle shattered in her hand, and glass scattered all over the table.

"Whoa~ crushed a bottle barehanded? Evangeline Whitfield, damn, that's hardcore."

While everyone was still reacting, she quietly picked up another bottle, popped the cap, and chugged it straight down.

...

Night fell deeper. The streetlights blurred into a soft glow, and summer fireflies flickered in the dark.

A black Rolls-Royce sat silently on the lane outside the riverside restaurant.

Half-drunk and swaying, Evangeline Whitfield stumbled over, yanked the car door open, and clambered into the back seat.

"Driver, just follow the default route on the navigation, okay? Don’t go taking random detours, or else... hehe."

She grinned wide, wild and reckless, looking every bit like someone completely hammered.

The driver caught sight of her in the rearview mirror, and a chill flashed across his face.

"Miss, you got into the wrong car!"

Evangeline ignored the warning like she hadn’t heard a thing. She just kept cursing under her breath, voice thick with alcohol. "Trash man, shameless homewrecker! Getting married, huh? Fine, I hope you two stay stuck together forever, your love is cheaper than dirt, your life falls apart, and your whole bloodline ends with you..."

The driver was so anxious he looked ready to combust. "Please get out of the car right now. If you don’t, then I’ll—"

Before he could finish, the rear door was suddenly pulled open from outside. A tall, long-limbed man slid into the seat with his usual calm, polished grace. The moment he noticed the heavy smell of alcohol inside, his brows tightened sharply, and his cold, deep gaze landed on the woman beside him.

The driver choked on his own breath, then hurriedly explained, "Mr. Ashford, this woman is drunk. She climbed in by herself. Please wait a moment, I’ll get her out right away."

With that, he jumped out from the driver’s seat, rushed to the back door, and tried to drag Evangeline out by force.

Evangeline had been half out of it already, but getting yanked like that sobered her up just a little.

"Where did this nasty man crawl out from? You think you can lay a hand on me?"

The second the cold words left her mouth, she put a little strength into her arm and shoved the driver straight into the greenery two meters away.

"So many creeps. Seriously unreal."

After snapping that out, she casually slammed the car door shut and, out of habit, called toward the front seat, "Driver, hurry up and go. Why are you dragging your feet?"

Only after she said it did she realize the driver’s seat was completely empty.

Wait... where was the driver?

Startled, she looked around—then suddenly met a pair of stunning black eyes, and in that instant, everything around her seemed to go dark.

The man’s gaze was bottomless. His features looked like they’d been carved with ruthless precision, his jawline hard and sharp, his thin lips unbearably sexy... he had the kind of pull that could make someone fall in a second.

Evangeline stared, totally dazed, and asked blankly, "Have we met somewhere before?"

She had obviously forgotten that less than an hour ago, she’d tried to hit on this very man and got shut down without him even bothering to say much.

The man’s gaze sharpened a little, and he let out a cold scoff.

"You're pretty good at making trouble. Gutsy, though."

The second Evangeline Whitfield heard that deep, smooth, almost dangerously magnetic voice, she sank even harder. It was like she was falling straight in with no way out. A restless heat burned through her chest. She stared at the man’s sharp, striking face, and a reddish haze slowly gathered in her eyes, hot and way too tempting.

After a fierce little struggle with herself, she suddenly threw herself at him, her red lips crashing down and forcefully sealing his cool mouth.

"How dare you—"

He barely got the words out before she shut him up again.

The alcohol had fully gone to her head. Her face was flushed bright red as she straddled his lap, one arm hooked around his neck, kissing him in a way that was messy, reckless, and completely out of control.

The faint smell of wine, a trace of smoke, and the elegant ambergris scent clinging to him all mixed together and flooded her senses, sinking straight into her heart.

Only when she ran out of strength—maybe because she was truly drunk now—did the kiss finally stop, with her going limp against his shoulder.

"So this is the price you pay for seducing me. Hehehe..."

Evangeline smiled in satisfaction, eyes half closed. In her haze, she could vaguely hear people talking near her ear.

"Mr. Ashford, should we send this woman to the police station?"

"No need."

"Then... what do we do with her?"

"Drive. We're going to Huasen Hotel."

The voices drifted in and out, dreamlike and unreal.

After that, her weak, limp body seemed to be gathered into someone’s arms. Everything around her swayed and jolted. One second she felt like she was being tossed into the clouds, the next like she was dropping into some endless valley. Through it all, that light, seductive ambergris scent stayed wrapped around the tip of her nose.

She had no idea how much time passed before a sharp sensation of falling hit her. Right after that, her body sank into something soft as cotton.

She wanted to know what was going on, but her eyelids were so heavy she couldn’t force them open at all. Years of instinctive vigilance kicked in anyway. Acting on pure reflex, she grabbed the "enemy" beside her and sank her teeth down hard.

The thick metallic taste spread through her mouth in a flash. Warm blood slid past her lips and dripped down...

A muffled groan sounded by her ear, low and restrained, like someone forcing it down.

Sensing that the "enemy" was no longer a threat, Evangeline Whitfield finally let go in satisfaction, flopped back onto the soft cushion, and passed out cold.

...

The next morning.

Evangeline Whitfield sat bolt upright on the huge white bed in the hotel room.

She looked around, and her beautiful eyes went wide instantly.

"Why am I in a hotel? Didn’t I call a cab home last night?"

She knocked lightly against her forehead, trying hard to remember, but her mind felt completely blank. After leaving the gathering... what the hell happened next?

Nothing.

Her memory was wiped clean.

Then suddenly, a streak of dark red on the bedsheet caught her eye.

It felt like a thunderclap exploded over her head.

Why was there blood?

A hotel room. Blood on the bed. Did that mean... she lost her virginity??

Which damn beast did this? Who had the nerve to take advantage of her while she was drunk and steal the innocence she’d kept for twenty-four years?

The shock drained every bit of color from her pretty face, leaving it ghostly pale. Her slender fingers clutched the edge of the blanket so hard her knuckles nearly turned white.

Right then, "Ring ring ring—"

The shrill ringtone went off like a death notice. The second she answered, Helena Whitfield—her stepmother and direct boss—started tearing into her through the phone.

"The investors are coming in today for the project review! Where the hell are you fooling around?!"

Evangeline’s whole body jolted.

She almost forgot—today was Shengyu Group’s annual project review meeting. She was scheduled to present, so there was no way she could skip it.

"Got it."

The second she hung up, she jumped out of bed, tidied herself up in a rush, and bolted out of the hotel.

Half an hour later.

Evangeline Whitfield arrived at the conference room on the twenty-seventh floor of the Shengyu Tower. The place was already packed, row after row of people filling the room so densely it felt suffocating.

She found an empty seat and sat down, listening to the other colleagues give their presentations while trying hard to calm the mess in her chest.

"The final review item is the G5 project! This project was the last work left behind by former Shengyu chairman Victor Whitfield. It is currently managed by his daughter, Evangeline Whitfield. Next, let Manager Whitfield begin her presentation."

At the cue, Evangeline stood up and walked to the front, projecting her report onto the giant screen.

Unlike the project managers before her, her presentation was rough from start to finish. She sounded unfamiliar with the material, stumbled over her wording, and even stuttered from time to time.

A wave of murmurs instantly spread through the room.

"So this is Chairman Sheng’s daughter? Her speaking skills are seriously bad. Even her Mandarin has such a heavy accent."

"I heard she grew up out in the countryside. Sigh... wow, she really does look like the real deal—a total country bumpkin."

"Honestly, my middle school daughter could do this a hundred times better than her."

Evangeline listened carefully to every bit of gossip from below. Then she glanced at her stepmother and general manager, Helena Whitfield, whose face had already gone dark with rage. The corners of Evangeline’s lips lifted, almost too faint to catch.

Her stepmother always acted like having a higher title meant she could crush her whenever she wanted, constantly setting traps for her.

So today, Evangeline was quietly wrecking the investment review on purpose—just to make Helena choke on it.

She kept presenting in that careless, half-hearted way, satisfaction flickering faintly in her eyes.

Then suddenly, from the very front row of the investors’ section, a man came into her line of sight.

He had a cold, restrained face and sharply defined features. Dressed in an expensive black suit, he sat straight as a pine tree. His left hand rested casually on the evaluation documents on the table, while his long fingers on the right lazily spun a pen. His expression was cool, unreadable, yet there was an unmistakable authority about him, something powerful and out of the ordinary in the space between his brows.

Evangeline froze for a beat.

Why did this man look so weirdly familiar?

A blurry image flashed through Evangeline Whitfield’s mind.

The man she had tried to hit on at North Shore Restaurant... he looked almost exactly like the one sitting in front of her now.

Was it really him?

Or had she remembered it wrong?

Almost on instinct, Evangeline’s eyes dropped to the nameplate in front of him. In the next second, her pupils shrank hard.

This man was actually Damien Ashford, the president of Ashford Group, the biggest investor in Whitfield Group—and the head of the world’s top tech giant, TOP1.

She froze on the presentation stage, her mind going blank for a second, completely forgetting to keep talking.

“Is that the end, Manager Whitfield?” asked the meeting host, the executive assistant to the president of Whitfield Group, in a polite tone.

Snapping back to herself, Evangeline hurriedly gathered up her presentation files and blurted out four stiff words. “Thank you for listening.”

The moment the words fell, the pen in Damien Ashford’s hand suddenly rolled to the floor with a sharp, crisp clack.

The man’s expression stayed cold and severe as he slightly lifted his thin lips and said flatly, “This is the level of someone leading a project team? Is Whitfield Group seriously out of people?”