"Darling, I bet you must be busy this morning. Your boss is such a capitalist. You don't even have a moment to reply. Remember to get back to me when you can," he added, ending the message with a kiss emoji.

As I stared at these messages that felt sweeter than any happiness, fear came even faster. The more I thought about it, the colder I felt.

If Yoel really was my online crush, all I wanted to tell him was that I was stuck revising a plan late into the night. He couldn't expect me home early, and his boring meetings were the ones I had spent three all-nighters preparing for. He really was a ruthless capitalist, using me like a workhorse every single day.

"Are you really my boss?"

I typed the words over and over, erasing them each time. If it really was him, all our conversations could threaten my job. If it wasn't him, it would be painfully awkward.

I felt a pang of frustration. Mr. Y and I had been going back and forth for three months. We were supposed to meet before the national holiday.

My chat background was a selfie Mr. Y had sent, focusing on his hand, which I had begged him to share for ages. His fingers were slender and beautifully shaped, with nails that glowed a soft, pale pink.

I had finally come across a soulmate whose chat topics matched mine perfectly, and the hand was so beautiful. Even just the part shown in the photo hit all the points I loved.

Being a game nerd with a thing for voices and hands, I couldn't help but be intrigued by someone like Mr. Y online.

We had first met in a game.

At the time, we were both solo queuing when we ran into a pre-made team of three. They saw the jungler had gained an early advantage and then went roaming and taunting the enemy across all channels, only to be countered and feed the enemy marksman.

The match completely fell apart. The three of them took turns yelling and blaming the jungler, who stayed silent and kept playing.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I unmuted and started lashing out at the team. The three of them were silenced instantly.

After the match, I discovered I had been muted by the system and saw a friend request from the jungler. He invited me to queue again, and I explained that my mic had been banned.

He replied, "Should we continue on WhatsApp voice chat instead?"

Over time, we went from being game teammates to constant chat partners.

Once, I stayed up all night revising a plan, and he stayed on voice chat with me the entire time, saying he was overseas on business and just happened to be adjusting to the time difference. The next morning, he asked for my address, and half an hour later, a warm breakfast arrived.

At that moment, my lonely heart felt a little less heavy.

After that, we started voice chatting every night. He sang to me, told stories, made jokes, and coaxed me to sleep. Our flirting lasted three months, and when I realized we were both in Alderstone, I suggested we meet in person.

"Darling, really? Are you serious? Don't lie to me. "

"Only fools lie. I work at Riverview Tower. Do you want to grab a bite nearby?"

Mr. Y didn't reply.

Looking back, everything had seemed perfect, and then Mr. Y abruptly said something had come up and promised to meet next time.

He probably realized I had been one of his staff, which was why he had canceled at the last moment.

If Mr. Y really was Yoel, he was the sole heir of the wealthiest family in the country. How could he seriously be involved with someone as insignificant as me?

After all, he had said so many things that made my face flush and my heart race during our voice chats. Even a single screenshot of our conversations could spark a scandal that might affect a high-profile family's stock prices.

Suddenly, a hollow ache settled in my chest. The reason we never met was my identity.

People often said online romances ended when the truth came out. I kept hoping it had been only his insecurity about how he looked that had kept him distant, not deliberate cold reasoning.

Yoel likely hadn't realized that the employee he had criticized in front of everyone for wasting memory and ruining plans was the very person he had been calling his darling.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have sent me those clingy, overly sweet messages after the meeting ended.

Now I knew exactly who he was, yet he only knew me as a faceless nobody within the group. He was in the open, while I stayed hidden. Suddenly, the situation became interesting.

After some thought, I picked up my phone and decided to settle a personal grudge under the guise of work.

"Darling, we can't voice chat tonight. The boss wants us to rush a proposal overnight."

The work group chat immediately pushed a notification. The proposal presentation was postponed by one day.

"Darling, the company cafeteria is terrible. The boss piles on work but pays so little. Should I just quit?"

At noon, the cafeteria suddenly announced bigger portions at no extra cost. That afternoon, Jeremiah cheerfully informed everyone that this month's bonus would be doubled.

As I ate the extra food from the cafeteria, I calculated how much my salary had effectively increased this month. I was in an excellent mood. That was, until one day at the office when I overheard some gossip.

A colleague shared that her friend had tried to break up with an ex, only for the ex to demand repayment for every expense from the relationship. From trips and housing costs to shared in-game top-ups, nothing was spared. The ex refused to end things otherwise.

I felt a sudden chill. Lately, I had been hiding behind the title of his darling to tap into company resources and secure extra perks from him.

I had to cut this off cleanly before we ever met face to face. I asked Mr. Y one final time whether we could meet.

He refused again, saying he was busy with work and maybe another time. I steeled myself and sent the message I had prepared.

"Darling, if we can't meet and I can't even hug or kiss you, we should just break up."

I blocked him without a second thought. After the breakup, no one lulled me to sleep at night. My sleep deteriorated sharply, and the nightmares came one after another.

In my dreams, a secretary led me to his office. I pushed open the heavy door alone and found nothing but darkness.

"Would a hug or a kiss be enough to keep you here?" someone asked in a choked voice.

…

I woke up shaking and covered in sweat. There was no time for sorrow. The project deadline was near, and the team had been grinding nonstop. The only silver lining was that exhaustion sent us straight to sleep as soon as we lay down.

After several exhausting days, the proposal was perfected, leaving nothing for even a god to fault. When I stood outside the CEO's office on the 36th floor once more, the gorgeous secretary informed me that Yoel was absent.

The following day, and the day after, Yoel still hadn't appeared. Unease crept in as I worried something might have happened to him. I quickly unblocked Mr. Y.

As soon as I unblocked him, a location pin arrived with a brief message. "I want to see you."

It led straight to the city center's flashiest bar district.

At the same time, Irene Parker, a secretary I was close to, sent me the same address. "I heard Yoel has been coming here every night lately. If you need to find him urgently, you might want to try your luck there."

I brought the proposal with me and headed to a bar I had never stepped into before. It was not the chaotic, wild scene I had imagined. Instead, it was a quiet bar meant for casual drinks and conversations.

Yoel occupied the most luxurious private room alone, reclining across the sofa. Empty bottles lay scattered across the table.

His eyes were hazy with drink, his cheeks were damp, and the corners of his eyes were flushed red. His shirt was rumpled, the collar slightly open, revealing the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Seeing him in person was far more convincing than any photo he had sent as "Mr. Y".

He clutched something the size of his palm tightly to his chest. It looked like a phone.

I crept closer and greeted him softly. "Mr. Gilmore?"

Yoel lifted his eyelids and suddenly grabbed my hand. His alcohol soaked gaze slowly narrowed. When his eyes landed on the laptop in my arms, disappointment flashed across his face. He immediately released me. "Did Ms. Parker tell you I was here?"

Fearing he would fault Irene, I kept a blank expression and played dumb.

Yoel didn't press the issue. He lowered his head and continued drinking. "Leave the proposal here. I will review it."

The dismissal was unmistakable. Knowing he was safe, I felt a wave of relief and got ready to leave.

Just as I was about to slip away, Yoel suddenly asked, "When you came in, did you see a girl around your age?"

I forced a laugh. "Mr. Gilmore, there are enough young women coming and going in this building every day to fill the elevator lobby. How could I possibly notice?"

He clenched his fingers tightly, staring down at his phone as the light in his eyes dimmed. "Very well. Go on ahead."

"Got it. See you tomorrow, Mr. Gilmore!" I exclaimed as I turned and sprinted away.

From the door's slight opening behind me, I caught the softest stifled sniffle.

The next morning, Irene bombarded me on WhatsApp. "Mr. Gilmore isn't in, but Mr. Maxwell is here to sign. Bring the documents upstairs without delay!"

I snatched up the printed proposal and sprinted to the 36th floor.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I pushed open the heavy wooden door and plastered on a cheerful grin. "Good morning, Mr. Maxwell! Here's the revised proposal…"

The smile froze on my face, as if glued there.

In the big executive chair sat Yoel.

Whatever weariness he had shown last night was gone. His shirt collar was crisp, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up, radiating pure elite confidence. Behind his rimless glasses, his eyes were as cold as blades pulled from a freezer.

"You don't seem happy to see me, Ms. Grayson," he said, staring at me coldly.

"Good," he said, methodically opening a drawer and lifting out a stack of papers. "Carry on. Present your proposal."

I dared not glance at him and hunched over the glaring laptop screen.

After just a few sentences, my throat felt painfully dry.

He said nothing, letting his eyes roam over me like a cold, focused beam. A shiver ran down my spine, and my hands grew clammy.

He never interrupted, but I felt movement under the table, as if he were fiddling with something. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I flipped a page and reached to mute it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me.

Three rapid vibrations jolted my phone like tiny alarms. I faked a sip of water and tried to act natural, praying he hadn't seen.

After 20 minutes, I wrapped up my proposal and asked, "All done. Mr. Gilmore, is there anything that should be revised?"

He closed his laptop, removed his glasses, and stood. "There's no coffee here. Let's head downstairs for one."

I scrambled to pack my laptop and instinctively reached for my phone, wondering who would be messaging at this hour. Who would spam this early, and why do it during work hours?

The screen lit up with messages from Mr. Y.

I yanked my hand back and shoved the phone deep into my pocket, like hiding a live grenade.

At the door, he stopped and turned. His gaze locked onto me. "Your phone wallpaper looks familiar."

My heart leapt. I forced a calm smile, lightly tilted the phone, and beamed. "Oh, that's my boyfriend! The picture came out nicely, right? You must have mistaken him for someone else."

I wasn't nervous. Instead, he should be the nervous one.

His brow creased slightly, as if something was lodged in his throat. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yes," I answered instantly, without the slightest hesitation. "We've been in an online relationship for three years. We got engaged three months ago, and our bond is very strong."

The lie sounded completely natural, almost like the truth itself.

He froze, and the color slipped from his face, leaving it ghostly pale.

After a long pause, he whispered, "Is that so?"

The words were barely more than a breath, as if he were seeking proof of a final truth.