Eric was the first big-shot I got to know in this world, a real tycoon, but with the complicated backstory of being the family's secret.

When I first met him, Janet had ditched him over money, and his family had kicked him to the curb because he was sick with liver cancer.

I was all in, trying to win his trust. I brought him into my tiny apartment, nursed him through his illness, and hustled like crazy to scrape together cash for his treatments. I even went as far as donating part of my liver when we turned out to be a match.

Eric bounced back, and with a little push from me, he climbed his way to the top of the business world.

Just when Eric was practically 99% smitten with me, Janet came back.

She spun that tale about not leaving for the cash but because Eric's family had strong-armed her. She talked about her tough times abroad and how Eric was always on her mind.

Eric played it cool, but I could tell he was swayed. The moment Janet stepped back into our lives, his affection for me took a nosedive to ninety percent.

When Janet accused me of giving her the cold shoulder, Eric was down to 80%. When she claimed I pushed her, it dropped to 70.

Over five years, Eric's feelings for me were like a roller coaster, finally settling at a chilly 30%.

I had always thought Eric's heart would not skip a beat for me again.

However, when I woke up in the hospital, I saw his concern for me had spiked to 50%.

It was not just his concern that had changed. Eric was different, too.

He rushed to my side as I tried to sit up, propping a pillow behind me with care.

"Take it easy," he said gently. "The doctor mentioned you've got a concussion."

The air was biting cold, and the lake had turned to ice.

That explained the throbbing pain in my head. I must have hit the ice.

His soft voice, though, made the room spin a little less.

Eric squirmed under my stare and looked away. "We found the charm bracelet. I got it wrong about you.

"It was the nanny who took it. She claimed it was a mix-up and thought it was hers. I've let her go.

"Yara, Janet jumped to conclusions too quickly. I've talked to her. She's going to apologize to you."

'Who owes who an apology? Is Janet really going to say sorry to me?' I could not quite grasp it.

Before I could even process it, Eric had brought Janet in from the hallway.

She stood by my bed, her apology coming out more forced than heartfelt.

After her half-hearted 'sorry,' she could not resist a dig.

"Yara, let's try to talk things out next time, okay? You leaping into the lake gave us all a fright. We're adults. We can sit down and work through issues."

I used to bite my tongue for Eric's sake, to keep the peace with Janet.

I never fought back against her snide remarks.

However, I was done playing nice.

"Who's not talking things through? I tried. Did anyone listen?

"I told you from the start it wasn't me, but no one believed me. And Eric, you call that an apology? You wanted me to apologize to her as if I should stand outside till nightfall. If she's falsely accused me, shouldn't she face the same?"

Janet paled.

Eric's brow creased in concern, though he remained silent.

Janet, putting on a show, said, "Yara's right. I'll go back and stand if it keeps her from getting mad."

With those words, she dashed out of my hospital room.

Eric glanced back at me, his expression turning grim, but he held back any biting remarks.

"Yara, how could you be so harsh with Janet? She's sick and can't be on her feet for too long. I'm going to go stop her. Please don't make those kinds of jokes anymore."

Once Eric had left, the system suddenly activated.

"Host, that was a clever move."

I asked, "What move?"

"The whole 'go die' act. Number One's affection meter just shot up. Should we keep up the pressure?"

I declined.

My dramatic exit only bumped Eric's affection meter up by 20%. Clearly, he was not that into me.

Why bother trying to win him over?

As I was contemplating my next move, my phone rang.

"Celestial Club 308. Be there in thirty minutes."

The call ended before I could respond.

No question about it–that was Lance, my enigmatic Number Three.

Lance, the lawyer, and I only met under the cover of night. Plagued by insomnia, he found solace in my arms.

Initially, our encounters were innocent, just sharing sleep.

However, one night, after one too many drinks, he crossed a line.

Amid my struggle, he confessed, "I like you, and I'll take care of you."

I was not one to get swept up in romance. It was just that Lance was ridiculously attractive, with the looks of a Hollywood heartthrob and the physique of a personal trainer. I fell into the same trap any woman might have.

After that night, I finally checked his affection meter.

A mere 30%.

Well, I was not disheartened. I figured eventually, I would win him over completely.

So, I kept finding ways to treat him right.

I was his personal chef, his therapist, his yes-girl. Whatever he wanted, I was there.

I kept thinking, if I just kept at it, one day he would see me differently.

However, I overheard him talking to his buddies, "She's not someone I like. She's just a convenient tool.

"I don't have feelings for her. It's Elaine I'm into."

He meant Elaine Harris, his friend, the sweetheart of their clique.

Ever since Lance dragged me to one of their hangouts, Elaine had it out for me.

She would throw dirty jokes my way and whisper sweet nothings to Lance, loud enough for everyone to hear.

At first, Elaine's jabs did not faze me. I mean, they were nothing compared to the physical torture I had endured from people like Janet.

However, when Elaine saw her words bounce off me, she upped her game.

She convinced Lance to snap some private pictures of me, even shot a bunch of little videos.

They would gamble with them at their secret parties, trading them like baseball cards.

When I found out, I was livid, ready to dial 911.

However, Lance said, "I'm a lawyer. You call the cops, and I'll have Elaine out in no time.

"Sure, Elaine might be safe, but can you say the same for yourself once those videos go viral?"

I had no comeback.

Besides, I had bigger fish to fry. Two CEOs who would not take kindly to being second fiddle.

Crossing them meant more than just a slap on the wrist; it could mean game over for me.

Lance's text popped up, and I wanted to just ignore it.

I was done trying to win him over.

I then thought, 'Why let them have the upper hand? If I'm going down, they're coming with me.'

I grabbed my phone and stepped out, ready for battle.

I was running 10 minutes behind when I hit Celestial Club.

The moment I swung the door open, I saw Elaine's nauseating grin. "Yara, you're late. You know the drill: being late means a penalty. Your secret snaps just got pricier by fifteen grand. Pay up, or they hit the web."

Her smirk was wide and mocking. Lance lounged on a couch behind her, looking at her with eyes full of adoration.

I shot back without missing a beat, "Go ahead, post them."

Elaine was surprised. "What did you just say?"

"Everyone's so eager to see those bed pictures, huh? Well, no need for you to bother. I'll share them myself." I whipped out my phone, fired up a live stream, and started peeling off layers for the camera.

"Hey, folks, I'm Yara. Lately, I've been hassled by this woman, Elaine, who's been blackmailing me with some intimate shots of her best friend and me."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Is she doing all this because she's got a crush on her friend?" I rattled off as I stripped off my down jacket, coat, and sweater in a flash.

When I was down to my thermals, a black coat suddenly wrapped around me. Lance was fuming, his face dark with rage. "Yara, are you out of your mind? Talking like that is asking for trouble!"

His face? Grim. The whole room was in shock, and Elaine's face turned pale, too.

I flashed Lance a defiant grin. "Yeah, I'm dying for that."

He was dumbstruck. "What?"

Before he could catch up, I bolted to the window and hoisted my leg up. The room inhaled sharply.

Lance exploded, "Yara, what the heck are you doing?! Get down from there!"

"Lance," I called out to him, "after being with you for so long, I've got something I need to say."

He looked at me, all nervous.

"You're a total moron!" I blurted.

With that, I took the plunge.

Lance's shout was way louder than Eric's ever was.

…

Bummer–I did not kick the bucket.

When I came to, I was staring at the sterile white ceiling of the hospital I knew all too well.

Lance explained that as I took my leap, a garbage truck broke my fall, so all I did was bust a leg.

Just a busted leg?

I glanced at my leg, fighting back the tears.

'Gah! I wouldn't have jumped if I had known!' I screamed internally.

Lance caught my almost-crying face and thought I was devastated. He cleared his throat.

"I get why you did this today."

I looked up at him, and I could feel my heart skip a beat: affection level up to 60%.

"You've been mad because I've always had my friends' backs over yours, right? Don't worry, I've deleted your video, and I've told Elaine to cut out the jokes from now on.

"You get what I'm saying, don't you?"

I just stared, totally lost.

To my surprise, he was blushing. "Yara, I'm officially giving you permission to court me."

He said it with his head held high, smirking like he had won the lottery.

Like he was expecting me to jump into his arms.

I almost blurted, "Who in the world would want to chase you?"

Right then, Lance's phone buzzed.

It was Elaine calling.

"Hey, did you sort out the hospital stuff? You promised to play with us today. Bail on us, and you're toast," she said, loud enough for me to hear.

Lance gave me that awkward look.

I just said, "Go on."

He wavered for a second, then stood up. "I'll just play for a bit and come back. Elaine's got a ranking match today, and she won't stop nagging if I don't help out."

With that, Lance took off.

Me? I still felt like dying.

Limping with my injured leg, I went out and bought a knife.

Once I had it, I planned to head back to the hospital to settle my bills.

I was on my last leg, literally. I did not want to leave owing them money.

However, as fate would have it, in the hospital lobby, I ran into Ron, the second CEO in my life.

He was there with Mabel Jones, his girl-next-door, getting her checked out.

He did a double-take when he saw me, then scowled. "Yara, are you following me?"

I opened my mouth to clear the confusion.

However, he cut me off, getting all worked up, "Perfect timing. You're here for a check-up, too. Mabel's kidney is failing, and you're going to give her yours in a few days."

He said it like he owned the place.

I could not help but laugh, though I was seething inside.

"Oh, you want a kidney?" I whipped out the knife I had hidden up my sleeve and jabbed it toward my side, "Why wait a few days? I'll do it right now!

"I'm not just giving up my kidney. I'm done with life itself!"

I pictured it like in the movies: the knife sliding in, blood spurting.

However, before I could even feel the knife, it was caught by a firm hand.

I looked up straight into Ron's eyes. When I saw his hand clenching the knife, blood oozing out, I freaked and dropped the knife.

It hit the floor with a loud clang.

Everyone around us sucked in a breath of cold air.

Surprisingly, Mabel was the quickest to snap out of it, screaming for a doctor.

Ron, meanwhile, tightened his grip on my hand, his face ghostly white, "Yara, is this some kind of new stunt? You think this will make me back off? Keep dreaming!"

I yanked my hand away. "Stunt? I'm giving you one last shot here. If you don't want this kidney now, forget about ever getting it."

I bent to pick up the knife and turned to walk away.

Ron's voice trembled, "Yara, what are you doing? Put the knife down!"

I pulled away. "Whatever I'm doing, it's got nothing to do with you. Let go."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Is this about the kidney donation? Look, I'm a doctor. You can live just fine with one kidney. I'll make sure of it. And..." He paused, his cheeks flushing. "Mabel mentioned that if you go through with it, she'll talk to my mom. You could be part of our family."

I scoffed. "Oh, please. If it's no big deal, why don't you donate?"

I bit down on his hand hard enough to draw blood, but he did not flinch or let go.

Exhausted, I finally softened my tone. "Okay, Ron. You got me. I just wanted your attention. Now let go. You've called my bluff, and I'm not going to die over it."

He released me then, and I took a deep breath, ready to end the charade.

Before he could say another word, I grabbed a knife and drew it across my throat. Blood sprayed, covering Ron's face in red.

As I collapsed, three distinct shouts pierced the air.

"Yara!"

As my vision dimmed, I saw two familiar figures pushing through the crowd, racing toward me.