My boyfriend was obsessed with sex — and loved making me write reflections afterward.

He said that when I finished three hundred and sixty entries, he would marry me.

But when the diary was complete, he took it overseas to publish.

The book became a sensation.

Overnight, I was branded a notorious slut.

I stormed over to confront him —

only to find Ryan Moore holding Chloe Lin in his arms, the two of them clinking glasses in celebration.

“Chloe has been working as an editor in Europe for years but never produced a hit book.

Your diary was the perfect material.”

“And you actually thought I’d marry you?

A woman who can handle every position and toy imaginable isn’t fit to be seen with the Moore family.”

“If you hadn’t framed Chloe for cheating on an exam back in college, she wouldn’t have been forced to leave school without her degree and go abroad to survive.”

“Lena Foster, this is karma.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

The Foster Group could buy out hundreds of Moores if we wanted to.

Ryan and I? We were just having fun.

As for reputation —

that’s something only the weak have to worry about.

Ryan froze at the sound of my cold laugh.

“What? Did the insults make you stupid?”

“Lena! Get on your knees and apologize to Chloe!

Do that, and maybe I’ll spare you.”

“Once I’m with Chloe, I’ll even allow you to be my woman on the side.

Chloe says she’s not the jealous type — she can tolerate it.”

Beside him, Chloe spoke in a soft, coy voice.

“Ryan, maybe she’s just too happy right now.

Think about it — a woman who did it three hundred times and wrote about it every single time?

She’s practically an online fantasy icon now!”

“I bet tons of men have been confessing to her lately.”

“Oh, maybe it’s my fault — I made the book too famous.

It went viral all over Europe, and now people are secretly sharing it back home too!”

Ryan’s face grew darker and darker.

He clenched his fist so hard the wineglass shattered.

“Shameless whore!

You’re actually proud of this?”

“No wonder my family never agreed to let me marry you — they were right!”

I couldn’t understand his twisted logic.

“Ryan, all those tricks in bed — you were the one who suggested them.

I was just doing what my boyfriend wanted.

Why should I be ashamed?”

He was the one who disrespected me,

who took my most private diary and published it without my consent —

he was the one who should be ashamed.

Ryan’s veins bulged.

“Lena! That’s not the same!”

“You’re a woman! When a man does this, it’s perfectly normal.”

“Besides, did I tell you to write so much detail?

You wrote all that just to seduce other men, didn’t you?”

He turned to his assistant with a look of disgust.

“Book me a full medical check-up tomorrow.

If it weren’t to stand up for Chloe, I’d never have touched a slut like this.

Who knows what she’s caught from other men — I’d better make sure I’m clean.”

Smack!

I slapped him across the face and walked out without looking back.

“Ryan, just wait — you’ll regret this!”

“Aren’t you afraid of going to prison?”

He sneered behind me.

“Prison? Lena, are you crazy?”

“You wronged Chloe first — I just returned the favor.

And besides, you have no proof.

I just published the diary overseas — foreign law can’t touch me back here.”

I let out a cold laugh.

“Really? Go ahead and try.”

From the day I was born, I’d never heard of the Foster Group’s legal team losing a case.

As I walked away, I quickly told my assistant to dig into Chloe’s background.

Turns out, she was a junior back when I was in grad school.

I had once caught her cheating during an exam I was invigilating.

Even before that, I had heard of her —

she came from a well-off family, flaunted luxury brands,

yet kept applying for scholarship spots meant for poor students.

One of the students she pushed out of a scholarship was someone I knew —

a girl so poor she lived on five dollars a day.

Not only did she lose her scholarship,

Chloe also led others to bully her until she developed severe depression.

I never hesitated with people like her.

She was stripped of her scholarship and couldn’t graduate with her degree.

Afterward, she tried to make trouble for me a few times,

but my parents had me too well-protected.

She never succeeded.

Years passed, and I had nearly forgotten she even existed.

“Did you find which European publisher Chloe works for?

Is it one of Foster Group’s subsidiaries?”

My assistant hesitated.

“Actually… it belongs to the Ford family.

Technically, it’s under Jason Ford’s name.”

I rubbed my temples.

The Fords and the Fosters had been family friends for years.

Jason and I were even engaged as kids —

but when I came of age, I broke off the engagement.

I couldn’t stand how he partied too much and acted like a spoiled playboy.

He was furious that day — not because his heart was broken,

but because I had humiliated his pride.

“Lena, mark my words — one day you’ll beg me for help!”

And now… I really had to ask him for help.

I dialed the phone, mentally preparing my excuses.

But when Jason’s deep, magnetic voice came through the line,

I froze.

“Lena, I saw what happened. Are you okay?”

I had expected him to mock me like the other rich heirs would.

After all, we had what could be called “deep grudges.”

“How are you feeling? Are you holding up?”

I hadn’t expected his concern.

For a moment, I couldn’t even speak.

He grew more anxious.

“Damn it. I’m in the States right now, I can’t fly back immediately.

Don’t do anything rash — I already sent my assistant to find you.

Tell them whatever you need.”

“And I found out everything about that publisher.

I’ll have that woman fired today.”

For the first time since this mess began, my nose stung and my eyes watered.

No matter how strong I acted,

being publicly humiliated and shamed still hurt.

Slut-shaming was like a spear that stabbed deeper every time someone mentioned it.

Jason heard my soft sob and fell silent for a long time.

“Lena.”

“Let’s get married.”

“What?”

I thought I misheard.

“Jason Ford, are you out of your mind?”

“I’m serious. You’re in the middle of a storm.

And honestly… my reputation isn’t that great either.”

I might not care about my reputation,

but other people did — especially men.

Jason’s amused laugh came through the phone.

“Perfect, then.

I’ve been called a playboy in the social scene for years — we’re a match made in heaven.”

I couldn’t help but laugh too.

He had been writing love notes to girls since he was thirteen.

By twenty, he was caught at nightclubs with two women in his arms.

By thirty, rumors swirled that he had a love child.

“Relax. Even if we marry, we can still just be buddies.

It’s a business arrangement — whatever you do after, I won’t interfere.

Purely value, no emotions.”

Maybe it was anger.

Or maybe I was just tired.

But I nodded and agreed.

“Lena,” Jason said, almost smug,

“now you have to admit I’m not useless.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jason! So that’s what you were waiting for!

Fine, I apologize — I shouldn’t have called you a loser back then.

When you come back, whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you.”

He only smiled.

“All I want is your acknowledgment.”

I fell silent again.

“How do you want me to deal with her?” Jason asked.

“Should I hand her over to the police?

Make sure she can never return to the U.S.?”

That was my original plan —

but now I had a better idea.

Letting dogs bite each other would be far more satisfying.

After the call, my mood improved dramatically.

This whole ordeal might have caught me off guard,

but at least it had shown me Ryan’s true colors.

That alone was worth something.

I scrolled through the trending topics with my name still at the top.

I created new accounts on every major platform —

and within minutes, I had a million followers.

Most were there to mock or insult me,

but some kind-hearted girls left supportive messages:

Sis, it’s not your fault.

No one deserves to be treated this way.

So I posted my first tweet:

I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Women seeking pleasure are not sluts.

The ones who should be ashamed are those who exploit women in secret,

then condemn them publicly like hypocrites.

But I had underestimated how far this scandal would spread.

When I walked down the street, strangers pointed at me:

“So this is the slut who wrote that sex diary, huh?

Just look at her — she reeks of it.”

“She must be amazing in bed with all those positions.

I wanna try her too.”

“Damn, just thinking about it turns me on.”

A group of drunk men leered at me,

and a few bold ones grabbed me by the waist.

“Hey sweetheart, you’re New York’s hottest star right now!”

“We’ve all read your ‘108 positions.’

Wanna try number 109 with us?”

“Don’t worry — we won’t make you write another thousand-word report about it!”

I didn’t even look at them.

I just slapped them across the face.

That made them furious.

“Bitch! You dress like that, write all that filth,

just to tempt men — and now you’re acting all pure?”

“Bet you’ve been used up already — come on boys, let’s show her a good time!”

They all surrounded me at once.

Just as I braced myself to fight,

a dark shadow flashed before my eyes —

and in a few swift moves, the drunks were on the ground.

“Get lost!

Or I’ll have you all arrested!”

I looked up —

and there was Ryan, panting after the scuffle.