My classmate Bianca and I have the same taste. She wants every man I’ve ever dated.

She says I’m too naive. That I don't see how powerful men think. She calls it “testing” them for me.

She says she’s helping. Then she sleeps with my boyfriend.

Then she rubs it in my face.

“See? I told you that you can’t handle them. These men are sharks. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been eaten alive by now.”

I choked on my rage. I said nothing.

This time, I went behind her back. I went after the king of New York's underworld.

When she found out, she made her move.

But she has no idea. This man isn't my endgame. He's the trap I set for her.

After stealing my boyfriend again, Bianca flaunted the hickeys on her neck and the expensive watch right in my face.

"This watch looks so much better on me."

Bianca held up her wrist. The Patek Philippe glittered in the sunlight streaming into the Columbia University library.

The pen in my hand nearly snapped.

That was the limited-edition watch Nico gave me last month.

"Bianca, you—"

"Oh, right. This was yours." She cut me off, her smile a mix of fake innocence and pure smugness. "But Nico agrees. He said it just... fits my vibe better. He texted me last night. Said he's never met a girl with taste like mine."

The whole library could feel the tension. Students around us exchanged knowing glances.

"Here we go again," Sarah muttered.

"Bianca is such a good friend. She always shows Viviana what these guys are really like," Emma added.

"Exactly," Jessica nodded. "If Bianca didn't sacrifice herself to test them, Viviana would be wrapped around some playboy's little finger."

My nails left crescent moons in my palms. I almost drew blood.

Bianca tilted her head, her eyes full of fake pity.

"Bella, I know you're mad. But I’m just trying to protect you." She sighed. "You're just too sweet, Bella. You can't see what these men are really like. They just want to play with you. They're never for real."

"Yeah, Nico even got your birthday wrong," Sarah said, dead serious. "You can tell a guy like that is bad news."

I clenched my jaw and said nothing.

I knew the truth.

Bianca had sent the same picture to every rich kid who ever asked me out: a private photo of herself, half-naked on silk sheets.

The caption was always the same: Want to know how boring Viviana is?

It worked every time. Every single time, it made me look like a fool who was completely in the dark.

But I had to take it.

Suddenly, the whispers in the library grew louder.

"Oh my god, look outside!"

"Is that Matteo Falcone?"

"It really is him! What is he doing on campus?"

I looked out the window.

Matteo Falcone moved down the main path like he owned the place.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit. Two men, clearly bodyguards, followed close behind.

The whole campus was buzzing.

Students were sneaking pictures with their phones, but no one dared get close.

This man controlled half of New York's underworld. Publicly, he was the CEO of a revolutionary biotech company.

Every time he showed up in public, he made the front page of the business section.

And now, he was at Columbia.

Bianca instantly sat up straight. Her eyes burned with a crazy ambition.

Getting her claws into him was her ultimate dream.

"What's he doing here?" she muttered, already fixing her hair.

I packed my books and got up to leave.

In the bathroom, I carefully reapplied my makeup.

Lipstick. Eyeliner. Highlighter.

Every stroke was precise.

This was war paint.

When I walked out, Bianca was waiting by the door.

"Viviana, wait." She blocked my path. "Where are you going? Didn't you and Nico break up? Who are you meeting?"

Her eyes were filled with suspicion and a hungry curiosity.

I let out a cold laugh.

"None of your business." I tried to walk around her. "But since you love testing men so much, you can have that piece of trash. I don't need him."

Bianca grabbed my arm, her grip tight.

"What is that supposed to mean—"

My phone rang.

A deep, sexy voice came through the speaker. "Baby, you ready?"

The color drained from Bianca's face.

She snatched the phone from my hand.

"Hi, this is Viviana's good friend, Bianca." She switched to her sweetest voice. "She's still getting ready, why don't we chat first? I've always admired your work so much—"

"Put her on the phone."

The voice on the other end was ice-cold.

Bianca's smile froze on her face.

"But, I just wanted to—"

"Now."

The one word was a death sentence.

Shaking, Bianca handed the phone back to me, her face ashen.

I took the call, my voice soft. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's okay, baby. I'm right outside the library." Matteo's voice was warm again.

I hung up.

The hallway was dead silent.

Students walking by had stopped in their tracks, staring at us with wide eyes.

Bianca stared at me, her face a mask of pure, venomous jealousy.

Her voice trembled. "Your date... is Matteo Falcone?"

"No way."

Jessica was the first to speak, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Viviana, stop kidding yourself," Sarah said, shaking her head. "A man on Matteo Falcone's level? Why would a man like that want a scholarship kid like you?"

"Seriously," Emma sneered. "You can't even afford a designer bag. What does he want from you?"

A flash of triumph lit up Bianca's eyes.

"Bella, I know what happened with Nico hurt you," she said, faking sympathy. "But you can't just make up crazy stories like this. Do you know the kind of women Matteo Falcone dates? Supermodels, socialites, heiresses."

"Yeah, you're on financial aid. You can barely pay tuition," Jessica scoffed. "Why would he want you?"

"Bianca's right. You're fantasizing," Sarah chimed in.

I looked at them and said nothing.

Explaining was weakness. I didn't need to.

I grabbed my bag and walked toward the library doors.

"Viviana!" Bianca called after me. "Don't be a fool! Is it that hard to face reality?"

I pushed open the heavy glass doors.

The sunlight was blinding.

Matteo was standing there, next to a black, bulletproof Cadillac, looking at his phone.

He looked up as I stepped out. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a private smile.

"There you are, baby."

He closed the distance, his arm sliding around my waist as he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

Behind me, I heard a collective gasp.

I deliberately looked back at the library's huge plate-glass windows.

Bianca and her vultures were plastered to the glass, their faces a perfect picture of shock.

Matteo opened the car door for me.

"Ladies first."

I slid gracefully into the car.

Leather seats. Crystal glasses. The faint scent of expensive cologne filled the air.

As the car pulled away, I took one last look out the window.

Bianca's face was a twisted mask of rage.

"There's a private dinner at The Met tonight," Matteo said, his hand gently stroking mine. "For an exhibition of art my family sponsored."

The museum was closed to the public, but the VIP section was lit up.

"Mr. Falcone, welcome," the museum director greeted us personally. "The sponsor's dinner is ready."

Matteo nodded, his hand never leaving my waist.

Champagne, caviar, priceless works of art.

This was a closed-door gathering for the city's true elite.

"See that painting?" Matteo leaned in, his voice a low, magnetic whisper.

His breath tickled my ear.

"Monet's Water Lilies, the 1919 original. Market value is eighty million dollars."

I put on a shocked expression.

"That's so expensive."

"It's nothing to me." His lips were almost touching my ear. "If you like it—"

My phone suddenly rang.

Bianca's name flashed on the screen.

I didn't even look. I just declined the call.

It immediately rang again.

I declined again.

The third time, I just turned my phone off.

Matteo raised an eyebrow. "Someone bothering you?"

"It's nothing. Just someone unimportant."

"Viviana!"

A fake, surprised voice called out from nearby.

My stomach dropped. I looked over and saw Bianca in a tight black dress, her arm linked with a fat, greasy-looking man.

He was a New York state assemblyman, famous for being greedy and a pervert.

Looks like Bianca traded the only currency she has for a ticket into this world.

She whispered something in the politician’s ear, then grabbed a glass of champagne and sashayed over to us, alone.

"What a coincidence! And this must be Don Matteo," Bianca beamed, completely ignoring me. Her eyes were locked on Matteo. "I was just in the neighborhood and heard Viviana was here with you. I just had to come say hello. After all, the Romano family and your family have... a history."

Matteo's expression turned to ice.

He didn't even turn to face her.

"Where's security?" he asked calmly.

Bianca’s smile froze. Then, in a last-ditch effort, she stumbled—a little too perfectly.

The champagne in her hand "accidentally" splashed all over Matteo's suit.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! So sorry!"

Bianca immediately bent down, pulling out a napkin to try and wipe it off.

Her dress was cut low. The angle showed off everything she had.

This was her signature move.

The men who used to chase me would always politely refuse her help, saying things like "It's fine, don't worry about it."

But you could always see the hunger in their eyes.

Too bad for her. This was Matteo. He didn't even glance at her.

"Get her out of here," he gestured to his bodyguards, his voice cold.

"No! Wait!" Bianca cried out. "I can explain—"

Two bodyguards in black suits moved in, grabbing her arms without a hint of gentleness.

"Matteo, I'm a Romano! You can't do this to me!"

"I don't care who you are," Matteo said, still not looking at her. "The next time I see you, it won't be a polite escort out the door. It will be the last time I see you."

The color drained from Bianca's face.

She looked at me in desperation, her eyes filled with disbelief and terror.

Matteo turned back to me, his voice soft again.

"Sorry, baby. I let trash like that interrupt our date."

He motioned to his assistant.

"Contact the auction house. Buy that Monet."

The assistant immediately pulled out his phone and started dialing.

"You're buying it now?" I asked, feigning surprise.

"Of course." Matteo stared into my eyes, reaching up to caress my cheek. "No one gets to ruin our time together. Think of this painting as an apology for the interruption."

The other guests stared, their faces a mix of shock and envy.

An eighty-million-dollar painting, bought just like that.

I smiled, looking triumphantly at Bianca being dragged away.

She just stood there, her face a pale, horrified mask.

Those other men, they'd turn Bianca down in front of me, too.

But you could always see the lust in their eyes.

They’d always secretly get her number later.

She thought all men were the same.

But that's her mistake. She ran into Matteo Falcone. A man who gets off on power, not pussy.

Three weeks later, I was standing in the grand hall of the Falcone family estate.

Crystal chandeliers, marble floors, priceless paintings on the walls.

It was the first time Matteo brought me to a family gathering.

"Relax, baby," he whispered in my ear. "It's just a simple business dinner tonight."

I nodded, tightening my grip on his arm.

With Matteo's possessiveness, I thought he'd be different from the others.

He never let other men get near me.

He'd leave hickeys on my neck, marking his territory.

He even had bodyguards follow me 24/7.

"Matteo!"

A familiar voice called down from the staircase.

Bianca, wearing a long silver gown, was descending the spiral staircase.

What was she doing here?

"Bianca." Matteo nodded at her. His voice was polite but distant. "You made it."

I was confused, but I didn't say a word.

Bianca walked up to us and gave me a defiant smile.

"Viviana, long time no see."

Then she turned to Matteo, deliberately pulling up her sleeve.

"Matteo, look."

Her arm shimmered under the light.

The skin was as smooth as a baby's, without a single flaw.

Even the mole that used to be on her arm was gone.

"The results are pretty good, right?" Bianca said smugly. "Your 'Youth Therapy' is really a miracle."

Youth Therapy?

I looked at Matteo.

He looked a little uncomfortable.

"Bianca's family agreed to be the first outside investors in our new biotech company," Matteo explained. "It's a favor I had to grant."

My heart sank.

"So you let her join the experiment?"

"Just a demonstration of the early results." Matteo squeezed my hand. "Baby, you have to trust me. I'm yours. Always."

But as soon as he said it, he turned to Bianca.

"Come on. I'll show you the lab."

I watched them walk toward the basement.

That was the forbidden part of the Falcone estate.

No one was allowed down there except core family members.

And that list did not include me.

One week later. Matteo's private island.

Blue water, white sand, and a luxury villa.

"It's just the two of us here," Matteo said, hugging me from behind. "No one can bother us."

I leaned into his chest, watching the sunset.

"How's your lab doing?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Not bad," Matteo's voice was excited. "We've had a major breakthrough. The anti-aging serum... in a few years, we could push the human lifespan to 200."

"That sounds amazing."

"The only problem is we're lacking key clinical data," he sighed. "We need a lot of volunteers to perfect the formula."

Just then, the villa door opened.

Bianca, wearing a white bikini, walked toward us.

"Sorry to interrupt," she purred. "I just got off the yacht."

Yacht?

"Bianca, how did you…"

"I invited her," Matteo said, standing up. "We have important business to discuss."

A burning rage of betrayal filled my chest.

But I had to control myself.

Bianca sat down next to Matteo, pressing herself against him.

"About the clinical data problem," she said, looking at Matteo with naked ambition in her eyes. "I can solve it for you."

Matteo was immediately interested.

"How?"

"The Romano family owns a dozen private clinics across New York," Bianca said, her voice dripping with pride. "We have a huge database of patients. I can secretly provide their medical data. And even…"

She paused, lowering her voice.

"I can even provide the volunteers. Terminal patients. They're desperate enough to try anything."

Matteo's eyes lit up.

"That's a very good idea."

"And it'll be completely confidential," Bianca continued. "No one will ever know what kind of experiments these volunteers were in."

They got more and more into their conversation.

Matteo had completely forgotten I was even there.

I quietly took out my phone and found an encrypted contact.

It was a number with no name, no profile picture.

I typed a quick message: The fish is on the hook. Prepare the net.

Message sent.

A few seconds later, a reply came back. One word: Roger.

I scrubbed the chat history and went back to playing my part.

Matteo and Bianca were still deep in discussion about the experiment.

They never even noticed.