Chloe, I hate you!

Later.

When Chloe opened the door, she felt utterly exhausted, wanting nothing more than a bath and some rest. To her shock, she found herself face-to-face with a heavily made-up face on the sofa.

The sight stunned her so much that she nearly dropped her bag.

It was the first time she'd seen her since that day. Just the sight of that face made Chloe recall the image of them entwined together, and instinctively, she wanted to avoid it.

Flora was quicker, grabbing her hand. "Chloe! Stop!"

Chloe stared blankly at the face in front of her.

"Let go!" She didn't want to get entangled with her. She didn't hate her sister; she only hated herself for believing a man's sweet lies.

Chloe felt none of the heartache she expected. Flora, red with anger, shouted, "Chloe, you heartless monster! I slept with your man! I was FUCKED your man! Are you blind or deaf?"

How could she not feel pain? She had slept with her man just to make her suffer—to suffer so much that she couldn't breathe, so much that she would scream to the heavens, so much that she would wish for death. Only then would Flora feel satisfied.

But things didn't go as Flora had expected, and her frustration gnawed at her, like a thousand cats clawing at her heart.

"If you want him, he's yours from now on," Chloe said calmly, her face expressionless as if the matter had nothing to do with her.

This reaction completely crushed Flora.

"Chloe, I hate you! I hate you!" Flora broke down, sobbing. "You heartless monster, you're the one who killed Dad and ruined our family…"

How could this cold and unfeeling woman be her sister?

Flora's tears streamed down her face.

Dad had favored her so much when he was alive! But how could she not shed a single tear after causing his death? Flora hated her!

The boys at school worshipped her sister like a goddess. Men who once fawned over Flora would abandon her without a second glance after seeing Chloe. She hated that!

Amos was the man Flora had set her eyes on first, but like all the others, he too, after seeing Chloe, no longer spared Flora a glance. And Chloe, so proud and indifferent, disdained any man who approached her. Yet these men would still grovel, eager to please her! She hated that!

She hated how Chloe had stolen all the attention, the glory, and the man. She hated how Chloe had killed their father, made their mother a widow, and brought their once carefree family to ruin overnight. They had to sell their house and move into a slum, and now Flora was forced to work and endure the scorn of others to survive.

And throughout all of this, her sister remained cold, seemingly unaffected. She carried on with her serene, noble facade.

Flora hated it! She hated how Chloe could feel nothing while Flora suffered so much!

She refused to believe that Chloe had no heart, that she couldn't feel pain! So, she would tear off Chloe's false mask of nobility. She wanted to see Chloe bleed from the pain!

How could Chloe remain so calm after witnessing her man in bed with her sister on Valentine's Day?

"Chloe, you're not human—you're a devil!"

Flora shoved Chloe hard and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Watching the door shake, Chloe's lips curved into a faint smile as she walked into the bathroom and submerged herself in the water.

She wasn't human. She was heartless. She was a devil.

Maybe that was true.

She knew Flora hated her. No! Not just Flora—her mother and brother did too.

Their father had been a professor at a university. On that stormy night, Chloe had been struck by a sudden high fever, feeling so ill that she cried out, "Daddy, I'm in so much pain—I'm dying..." Her words had terrified him, and he had rushed out into the rain to fetch a doctor, only to be struck down by a car…

Since then, their world had collapsed.

Their mother lost the husband who had adored her, and the three siblings lost the father who had loved them most.

In a single night, their family had fallen from the heights of happiness into the depths of despair.

Their mother became withdrawn, her gaze toward Chloe filled with sorrow. Her sister and brother grew to despise her.

How had it come to this? How had she killed the father who loved her most? If only she hadn't been so willful, if only she had endured the pain a little longer, would her father still be alive?

Drugged

Two Months Later.

Bar Paradiso

People called it paradise on earth—a world of luxury and excess that others spent their whole lives pursuing. Yet, it was a world of decadence and corruption.

In one of the lavish private rooms, a man lounged on a sofa in the corner. His face was so strikingly handsome that it seemed like the masterpiece of a dedicated artist, sculpted with the utmost care. His sharp, defined features exuded a wild, yet refined allure, with an aura of untouchable power.

Resting his elegant chin on one hand, his deep brown eyes—mysterious and unfathomable, like a bottomless pool—gazed thoughtfully at an ancient painting on the wall. He gently swirled the wine in his glass, lost in thought.

With a tilt of his head, the fiery red liquid flowed smoothly down his throat, filling his mouth with its rich aroma. His cold, somber face, shrouded in the dim light, was a stark contrast to the vibrant, lively scene behind him.

Suddenly, the crisp sound of high heels clicking against the floor pierced the air, followed by a pair of slender arms wrapping around him. "Lion, everyone's waiting for you to give the word!"

The woman tugged at his arm, pulling him from the sofa. As she looked up at his chiseled features, her heart raced like a frantic deer.

No wonder he was Lionel Williams, the CEO of K International Group. It wasn't just his billion-dollar fortune; his god-like looks alone could stop traffic, captivating every woman who laid eyes on him. He was born to stand out, a beacon that had shattered countless women's hearts.

But she knew all too well that he was a man who stood at the pinnacle of the pyramid, a man with standards so high that someone like her, a mere woman of the night, could never hope to match.

His gaze, when it flicked over to her, was enigmatic and distant, with a subtle hint of coldness that was easy to miss. His thin lips curved ever so slightly, sending a chill down her spine. Those familiar with Lion knew this was a sign of his displeasure, and she quickly released her grip on his wrist.

"Lion, you're off in your own world, leaving us hanging. You should be punished."

Another man approached with a bright smile, holding a glass of wine.

How could anyone be so handsome? The women around the room felt both envy and an overwhelming urge to pounce on him.

"Lion, have a drink!" A sultry beauty, who had already toasted him several times, slid over to sit next to Lionel, holding the glass, stained with her lipstick, to his lips.

Lionel's brow furrowed slightly, and a faint, hollow smile flashed in his eyes. He took the bottle and poured himself a drink, then downed it in one go.

The seductive woman, familiar with his temperament, didn't mind. She happily withdrew her hand and finished her own drink.

"Lion, for you!"

"Lion, here's to you!"

"We want…"

Seeing the woman get so close to the handsome man, the others in the room became desperate. They quickly stood up and crowded around him, each one trying to offer him a drink.

The ignored men glanced at each other and sighed, "With Lion here, we can forget about getting any attention from the ladies. Let's go."

They wanted to say goodbye to Lionel, but seeing how busy he was, they figured he wouldn't have time to respond, so they quietly left the room.

The boisterous laughter and chatter didn't last much longer. Suddenly, Lionel's face darkened. The smile that had been playing in his eyes turned into a sharp, cutting glare that he swept coldly across the crowd of women. Their laughter froze on their lips.

It was the first time he had ever shown anger toward women. With his already commanding presence, combined with a look that seemed capable of killing, the women didn't dare to even breathe.

"Wh-what's wrong, Lion?" The woman's voice trembled as she reached for Lionel's hand, but she quickly withdrew when she met his icy gaze.

His eyes roved over the faces of the women, who felt as if the cold wind was slicing their skin. Clutching their glasses tightly, they noticed the liquid inside trembling uncontrollably.

"Get FUCKING out!" he suddenly roared like a beast, smashing his glass onto the floor with a loud crash that sent shards flying.

The women couldn't help but tremble violently. One after another, glasses shattered, and the women, abandoning all pretense, screamed and bolted like startled deer, fleeing in all directions.

In an instant, only a floor littered with broken glass remained. Lionel, now drenched in sweat, looked as if he were burning up with a fever. His pale face had turned a fiery red.

The heat surging through his body was sudden and overwhelming. He clenched his teeth, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Some fool had dared to drug him?!

After years of navigating the cutthroat business world, this wasn't the first time someone had tried to poison him, but the dose this time must have been at least three times the usual amount.

It was clear—someone was dead set on taking him down tonight!

Give you what you want.

Lionel squinted his eyes. He knew he couldn't make it far and needed to find a room immediately. Stumbling out of the private room, his body felt like it was about to explode from the searing heat coursing through him. His silver-gray shirt was already soaked through with sweat.

He staggered his way up to the VIP rooms on the 15th floor. As he stumbled toward a door, he was fortunate—it was unlocked and automatically opened. He needed to cool down his body fast.

As he lifted his leg to step inside, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a woman lurking under the dim, yellowish corridor light. She was acting suspiciously, glancing around nervously, and slowly edging closer to him.

Lionel rubbed his eyes. Despite his increasingly muddled mind, he recognized her immediately—she was the same woman who had been trying hard to flatter him with drinks earlier.

With his experience in dealing with women, he could tell what they were thinking with just a glance or a subtle gesture.

At first glance, he thought this woman seemed demure and elegant, a bit refreshing and unique. But at a second glance, her overly revealing low-cut dress and her bold moves when toasting him—those sultry, seductive eyes that screamed of her desire to pounce on him—disgusted him. The hypocrisy was nauseating.

Chloe walked cautiously, carefully checking the room numbers as she went. She was so focused that she didn't notice anyone at the door until she suddenly bumped into Lionel. She let out a startled cry, her eyes flashing with panic.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She apologized, her head bowed, trying to sidestep Lionel and move past him.

But as they passed each other, Lionel grabbed her hand, his voice full of gritted anger and a murderous edge, "Bitch, no one dares to treat me like this!"

He believed that no one had ever dared to cross him. Yet here he was, being plotted against—by a mere woman, no less, and one as hypocritically self-righteous as her!

Chloe was stunned and flustered by Lionel's sudden action. "S-Sir, what are you doing?"

She was so shocked that she momentarily forgot to pull her hand away, but the scorching heat from Lionel's grip snapped her back to reality. She began desperately trying to yank her hand free.

"Still pretending?" Lionel shook his increasingly fuzzy head and sneered, "You've been cozying up to me all night, showing off your cleavage, stroking my thigh, all just to climb into my bed, haven't you?"

He thought she had drugged him, waiting for the moment the drug took effect to offer herself to him. Wasn't that her plan?

Her soft, delicate hand was cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body, and he found himself wanting to pull that coolness even closer.

Chloe's dark eyes quickly filled with terror. "W-What are you talking about?" Her voice trembled with anger. "Let go!" When she couldn't break free, she frantically used her other hand to help. In the struggle, Lionel's burning arm brushed against the cool softness of her skin.

A fire ignited in his eyes, burning brightly.

"Hmph, you're quite the actress!" More sweat dripped down his face as he realized that just a cold bath wouldn't be enough to cool him down tonight.

His gaze locked onto the smooth, white curve of her neck, and his body reacted sharply. He made a quick decision—whoever had the guts to drug him should be ready to face the consequences.

Right now, he didn't care if this woman was merely trying to seduce him or if she had some other agenda. Once tonight was over, he could deal with her and ensure she wouldn't cause any trouble.

Almost as soon as he made his decision, Lionel pulled the struggling woman into his arms and dragged her into the room.

***

On the other side of the corridor, a scantily clad woman watched the brief struggle between Lionel and Chloe.

At first, she was too stunned to react, but the sound of the door slamming shut jolted her back to reality. Her eyes filled with tears, glistening with hatred.

Before she could think any further, the door behind her silently opened. A strong male hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her inside.

"Ah…" Her scream was quickly muffled as she was thrown forcefully onto an enormous bed.

Before she could get up, three burly men pounced on her like ravenous wolves…