“Serena, think it over one more time. This is five million. All you have to do is spend one night with the second young master of the Whitfield family.”

Serena Caldwell said nothing. After a long while, she finally reached out and picked up the dress beside her, the kind with barely enough fabric to count as clothing.

It wasn’t for anything else.

Her father’s medical bills couldn’t wait.

The hotel manager saw her give in and instantly smiled, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep this under wraps. Blaine Harrington won’t find out.”

Serena shook her head. “I’ll break up with him.”

If she did something like this, there was no way she could get past it morally, let alone stay with Blaine like nothing had happened.

After changing clothes, Serena sent Blaine a breakup text and stepped into the private elevator.

The top-floor suite was cold and luxurious, all sharp edges and expensive silence, but Serena didn’t spare it a second glance. Not even the man sitting with his back to her in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

He stayed silent the whole time.

Serena lowered her head and asked first, “So... do we start right away, or should I go shower first?”

In the dead-quiet room, a faint sound broke the silence.

The man had risen and was walking toward her.

When he got close, Serena caught a light cedar scent on him, clean and crisp, but with that icy edge that made people instinctively tense up.

Then her chin was suddenly gripped.

She was forced to lift her face.

The moment their eyes met, Serena’s pupils widened hard, like she’d been struck by lightning.

“How is it you?!”

A flood of memories crashed through her mind like a fast-forward reel, spinning all the way back nineteen years, to when she was only six.

The nanny had just returned from her hometown, holding the hand of an eight-year-old boy. Her face was full of gratitude as she said, “Thank you, sir, ma’am, for giving Ah-Yun the chance to study here in the city. I really don’t even know how to repay you.”

Then she led the little boy in front of Serena and reminded him gently, “Ah-Yun, this is the little Miss Xinxin I told you about. From now on, you have to take good care of her, okay?”

The two children looked at each other.

One was spoiled and proud, carrying the sharp little arrogance of a girl raised in comfort.

The other was nervous and stiff, a boy who had just arrived in a big city and clearly didn’t know where to put his hands.

And now, after all these years, everything had flipped.

He was the one standing high above everyone else.

But... wasn’t his name Nathan Ellison?

How had he become the “second young master Whitfield” everyone was talking about?

Compared to her shock, Nathan Whitfield looked far calmer.

His face didn’t change at all as he looked down at her. When he spoke, every word was laced with mockery. “Didn’t expect after all these years, Miss Caldwell would end up this low.”

Years of butting heads kicked in like muscle memory, and Serena Caldwell fired back without even thinking, “And a guy who pays to pick women up is supposed to be some kind of saint?”

Nathan Whitfield’s hand slid slowly from her chin to the back of her head. His wrist pressed down, firm and controlled, and the space between them vanished in an instant. Their noses were almost touching.

His eyes were cold enough to freeze the air. The whole man carried that crushing, superior kind of pressure. “Miss Caldwell, when you dumped me so heartlessly back then, did you ever think there’d be a day like this?”

Serena pressed her lips tight. “That was years ago. I don’t remember much.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes. When I was seventeen, I had an accident. About a year before and after that—I barely remember any of it.”

Nathan let out a short laugh, sharp and full of contempt. “After all this time, that’s the lame excuse you came up with?”

He leaned in even closer. The smile on his face disappeared, and his whole presence turned icy in a flash. “Or do you really think I’m still as easy to fool as I was back then?”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“Or do you think that just because you can’t remember, what happened can be erased like it never existed?”

Nathan Whitfield would never forget the things Serena Caldwell had said when they broke up. Not in this lifetime.

And not long after that, when he got into an accident and nearly died, when he was lying in a hospital bed hanging by a thread, she couldn’t even be bothered to come see him once. He had been unconscious, still calling her name, and what did she do? She had someone toss him a bank card, then went off to some island with her friends to party like nothing mattered. Whether he lived or died, she didn’t ask a single damn question.

So what, just because she couldn’t remember, her coldness and cruelty didn’t count?

Sure enough. She had always been that same heartless person.

Nathan suddenly let go of her. He turned and sat down on the sofa, the warmth in his eyes completely gone. “Since you don’t remember, there’s no point bringing up the past. Let’s just treat today like we’re meeting for the first time.”

Serena nodded, calm and steady, neither servile nor defiant. “That makes sense.”

He had risen all the way to the top, while she had fallen this far. If they talked about old feelings now, it would only make her look like she was reaching way above herself.

“Then let’s begin. Hope Miss Caldwell is worth the price I’m paying.”

Serena ignored the sarcasm in his words completely. “Since Second Young Master Whitfield thinks that highly of me, I’ll definitely do my best to make you satisfied.”

Serena already got it now—Nathan Whitfield had called her here on purpose just to humiliate her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have singled her out by name.

She sat down beside him, secretly drew in a slow breath, then leaned closer little by little.

Right when their lips were about to touch, Nathan tilted his head just slightly and avoided her.

Serena paused.

She understood at once. He was disgusted by her.

She’d heard people say before that some men, when doing this kind of thing, never kissed. In their eyes, the women outside weren’t worthy of that. A kiss was too clean, too intimate. Those hostesses didn’t deserve it.

Serena pressed her lips together hard. Something bitter and sour spread through her chest, inch by inch.

So in his eyes, she was no different from those women out there.

Dirty. Cheap. Gross.

A soft metallic click broke the silence as she undid his belt.

Nathan stayed seated, steady as ever, his face unreadable. But when her hand closed over him, the line of his jaw tightened sharply, colder, harder.

"Use your mouth," he said, his voice low and rough.

Serena’s breathing hitched for a second. Then she nodded.

"Okay."

She slowly crouched down. Her figure was slim and soft, and the hollowed-out back of her dress exposed a stretch of pale skin so white it was almost blinding.

A few strands of long hair slipped down over her shoulders, dark against her snow-bright skin, black and white crashing together in a way that was almost too striking.

Nathan remembered what she had been like as a child. Every time she finished bathing, there were always several maids in the Caldwell house waiting to rub lotion into her skin, comb oils through her hair, fuss over every little detail. Serena Caldwell had been pampered since day one. Even her hair seemed to carry a faint fragrance. She’d always looked like snow on a mountaintop—beautiful enough to stare at, untouchable enough to never reach.

And now, that handful of snow had melted right in front of him.

Faced with her awkwardness and hesitation, what he was asking her to do felt cruel. Too cruel, honestly. But back then, when he had handed over his heart like a fool and let her hold it, she had played with it, mocked it, and tossed it away. Hadn’t she been cruel too?

But the next second, Serena suddenly stood up.

She lunged at him and kissed him dead on.

No, not really a kiss.

It was more like she was venting, biting at him in messy, angry little bursts, totally chaotic.

When she pulled away, her bright eyes locked onto his, direct and burning. She even smiled, a little provocative, a little savage.

"Before you get to be disgusted by me," she said, "let me disgust you first."