My Best Friend Tricked Me to Steal My Man

He handed you a flower, and you blushed—ready to trade the rest of your life for it.

For eight years, Sylvie Harrington had devoted herself to Gideon Clarke, chasing after him like a moth drawn to a flame.

But this time, she didn't blush. She didn't hesitate. She threw the flower to the ground, crushed it beneath her heel, and walked away without looking back.

The moment Gideon heard that Sylvie had returned to the city, the rosary in his hand snapped, scattering onto the floor.

——

Meanwhile, at a plastic surgery hospital, a woman stepped through the doors.

She was dressed plainly, but her features were flawless. Her voice was calm yet shocking:

"Doctor, I want to change everything about me. A completely new face."

Out of professional ethics, the doctor instinctively refused.

Sylvie said nothing—she simply reached into her bag, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and placed it in front of him.

The doctor’s hesitation wavered. His eyes gleamed with greed.

She then slid a confidentiality agreement across the desk.

"Sign it. No one can know about this."

Without a second thought, the doctor grabbed the pen and scribbled his name.

"Come to the hospital at 2 PM next week," he instructed. "Skip the reception desk. Take the elevator straight to the third-floor operating room."

Sylvie smiled, thanked him, and walked out of the hospital. As she stepped into the sunlight, she dialed another number.

"Hello, I'd like to arrange a 'fake death' service for next week."

A gentle customer service voice replied, "Understood. I'll process your request."

Hanging up, Sylvie lifted her gaze to the sky. The sun was blinding, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment.

"Gideon, I’m letting go. And this time, I’m taking my freedom with me."

Then, she glanced at the photo in her hand—her so-called best friend wrapped in Gideon’s arms.

Her lips curled into a cold sneer.

Let’s see how long you can keep this secret.

Half a month ago, Ivy Winslow, Sylvie’s best friend—who had been distant for a long time—suddenly reappeared at her doorstep.

She claimed she was heading to Scottish Highlands for a while and needed a place to stay.

Sylvie wasn’t pleased, but she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

At least, not until she noticed the red agate tied around Gideon’s waist.

“Oh, this?” Gideon brushed his fingers over the stone without even glancing at her. “Your best friend gave it to me. Said it was a thank-you gift for letting her stay the night.”

Sylvie froze.

Why was she thanking him instead of me?

Doubt crept in like a slow poison, seeping into her mind. And once a woman starts to doubt, she sees everything more clearly.

That night, she woke up to the sound of soft footsteps.

Through the dim corridor light, she saw two figures entwined—shadows overlapping like lovers caught in a secret dance.

Gideon’s hand cupped the back of Ivy’s head, his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Why are you up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?” His voice was hoarse, tinged with something dark and unrestrained.

“You’re asking me? Weren’t you the one waiting for me at the door?” Ivy pouted, playfully hitting his chest.

Gideon let out a low chuckle. Without another word, he lifted her chin and crushed his lips against hers—biting, devouring, consuming.

A sharp spark ignited between them.

“Aren’t you afraid Sylvie will find out?” Ivy gasped, breathless and dazed.

Gideon smirked. “Her? She’ll never know. And even if she does… she’ll never leave me.”

Ivy blinked up at him. “How can you be so sure? I even joked once that she should give you to me, and she actually laughed it off.”

Gideon scoffed, his tone laced with disdain.

“Huh. Does she dare? She’s just a follower—someone who clings to me, nothing more. Why waste our time worrying about her?”

Then he silenced any lingering doubts with another kiss, deep and possessive, his tongue forcing its way into hers—no hesitation, no guilt, only reckless indulgence.