I brought home the scholarship student I'd been sponsoring, thinking she could spend the holidays with us.

The moment my husband saw her, his face went white.

Because he heard her "inner voice": If I can't seduce you, the System will erase me.

To save the poor girl's life, my husband actually started playing along.

He transferred my company shares to her. Signed over the sea-view condo—my favorite property—to her name.

He even planned to throw her a wedding of the century. On our anniversary.

I confronted him, eyes burning. "Why?"

He looked at me, drowning in guilt.

"Sweetheart, she's just a child controlled by the System. We need to be understanding."

"Money is just material things. As long as she's alive, nothing else matters."

I nodded slowly. Then turned to my own System.

"Did you hear that?"

"He says money doesn't matter. So if I take back the billionaire luck I gave him... that should be fine, right?"

1.

The System's cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind:

[Host, once deprivation begins, it cannot be reversed. Orson Gilbert will lose all fortune bestowed upon him and revert to the penniless nobody he once was.]

[Do you wish to proceed?]

I watched Orson gaze at Willow Pruitt with such tenderness. The last flicker of hesitation in my heart went dark.

"No problem. Start."

[Executing deprivation protocol... Progress: 1%. Estimated completion time: 7 days.]

Orson didn't notice my reaction.

He was too busy cradling a wedding gown worth tens of millions, presenting it to Willow like an offering.

When we got married, we couldn't afford a ceremony. Couldn't afford anything.

Orson had promised me—on our tenth anniversary, he'd give me the grandest wedding I'd ever dreamed of.

This gown was the one I'd commissioned from a master couturier in Paris. For the wedding seven days from now.

Now he wanted to put it on her.

"Honey, don't look at Willow like that."

Orson turned to me, brow furrowed.

"She's just a child, controlled by that damned System. She could die any moment. We have the means to help—why wouldn't we?"

"It's just a dress. You have a whole closet full. You won't miss one."

Willow huddled in the corner of the sofa, wearing the silk pajamas I'd just bought. She lifted her head, timid as a wounded fawn, eyes brimming with tears.

"Orson... is she mad at me?"

"If she doesn't want me to wear it, I won't... Even though the System said if I don't put on the 'Gown of True Love' tonight, it'll take ten years off my life..."

She clutched her chest, face draining of color, as if the pain were unbearable.

Orson's expression shifted to panic. He dropped the gown and rushed to pull her into his arms.

"Willow! Don't be scared. I'm here!"

He whipped around to glare at me, voice sharp with accusation.

"Renata Fox! Do you want to push her to death? Is that what you want?"

"It's just a piece of clothing! Her life is at stake. Is your vanity really that important?"

I sat on the sofa, watching this little performance unfold.

Funny, really.

As someone who actually possessed a System, I knew perfectly well—what Orson "heard" wasn't anyone's inner voice.

It was just Willow Pruitt's one-woman show: The Tragic Heroine Forced by the System to Seduce the Male Lead.

But he bought it.

Not only bought it—he'd cast himself as the savior.

He believed that if he fulfilled Willow's every wish, he could rescue this poor, helpless girl from the clutches of an evil System.

How noble. How heroic.

There was just one problem.

Don't play generous with what's mine.

"Orson." My voice was flat. "That's my wedding gown. It won't fit her."

Orson froze for a moment, then waved his hand impatiently.

"Just have it altered. Willow's so slim—taking in the waist is nothing."

He shrugged. "Besides, you bought that dress with my money. I have every right to decide what happens to it."

I didn't get angry. I laughed.

"Your money?"

Back then, Orson Gilbert had been a nobody who couldn't afford his next meal.

I was the one who'd crossed over with the System. To save him, I'd poured every ounce of my fortune into him.

I was the one who'd built this empire beside him—sleeping in basements, surviving on instant noodles, pushing him step by step until he sat at the top.

And now he called it his money.

"Fine." I kept my voice light. "Since you think Willow absolutely must be saved, give it to her."

Orson exhaled, relief flooding his eyes.

"That's my girl. I knew you'd understand, Renata. You've always been the generous one."

"Once Willow completes her mission and breaks free from her system, everything will come back to you anyway."

In his arms, Willow turned her face toward me. Her smile was pure triumph.

I glanced at the System interface in my mind. The stripping protocol had reached five percent.

Enjoy your generosity while it lasts, Orson.

The next morning, my phone rang before dawn. The company.

Orson was calling an emergency board meeting.

By the time I reached the conference room, every seat was taken.

Orson sat at the head of the table. Willow was right beside him.

When I walked in, he gestured toward a chair near the far end.

"Sit."

I raised an eyebrow. That seat was usually reserved for the Vice President. As co-CEO, my place had always been next to his.

Now that spot belonged to Willow.

"I've called everyone here for an important announcement." Orson swept his gaze across the room, his tone brooking no argument.

"I've decided to transfer five percent of the shares under Renata Fox's name to Miss Willow Pruitt. Free of charge."

The room erupted.

Shareholders exchanged stunned glances. Whispers hissed between them.

"Five percent? That's worth billions!"

"Who even is this woman? What gives her the right?"

I sat back in my chair, spinning a pen between my fingers. Silent.

Right on cue, Willow rose to her feet. She bowed deeply to the room, her voice trembling.

"I'm so sorry, everyone. I don't want this either..."

"But if I don't accept these shares, my system will judge my mission a failure. It will punish me..."

Her body convulsed. She crumpled into Orson's arms like a broken doll.

Orson's face twisted with anguish. He stroked her back with one hand while his voice cracked like a whip across the room.

"Enough! What matters more—money or a life?"

"Willow is doing this to survive! Have you all gone so blind with greed you can't see that?"

The shareholders fell silent, stunned into submission.

One of them turned to me. "Ms. Fox, what do you..."

Orson's eyes cut to mine. The pressure in them was unmistakable.

"Renata. Say something."

"You know what Willow's going through. Consider this five percent a charitable donation."

"The company belongs to our family anyway—what difference does it make who holds the shares? Once Willow finishes her mission, she'll return them."

I studied him.

The same man who'd once sprinted across the entire city to save a few dollars on materials during our startup days.

Now, for the sake of a pathetic lie, he was ready to hand over billions without blinking.

I smiled and tossed my pen onto the table.

"Mr. Gilbert makes an excellent point."

"If this is truly a matter of life and death, we shouldn't waste another second."

"But shares alone?" I tilted my head. "That hardly seems enough. If this is a conquest mission, the System must value sincerity above all else."

Orson's eyes lit up. "Renata, what do you suggest?"

I let the words drop slowly, deliberately. "Why not remove me entirely? Make Miss Pruitt co-CEO. That way, the System will register a massive leap in her capture progress—might even clear the stage right there."

The conference room went deathly still.

The smile on Orson's face froze mid-curve.

"Renata, cut the passive-aggressive nonsense. The shares are just to tide things over. The CEO position stays untouched."

"You've already agreed, haven't you?" I slid the document toward myself. "Then sign."

The papers glided across the table and stopped in front of me.

I picked up the pen. No hesitation. My signature flowed onto the page.

[Strip Progress: 15%]

The System's voice echoed in my mind.

[Detected: Host has voluntarily severed financial ties with the male lead. Strip acceleration initiated.]

Orson watched me sign and exhaled, visibly relieved.

"There we go, Renata. Material things—why cling to them so tightly?"

"Once Willow's better, I'll take you abroad. A nice vacation."

Willow clutched the contract, her gratitude dripping with false sweetness.

"Thank you, Renata… You're so kind. I'll definitely repay you someday."

Repay me?

I studied the greed glittering in her eyes.

No need to wait. Soon enough, you'll discover just how scalding this "gift" really is.

When I returned home, I found my belongings packed and dumped in the living room.

Servants bustled in and out, hauling furniture from the master bedroom.

Orson stood on the staircase, orchestrating the chaos like a conductor.

"Toss that mattress—Willow can't sleep on anything that firm. Get something softer."

"The curtains too. She likes pink."

He spotted me and beckoned with a lazy wave.

"Renata, perfect timing."

"The feng shui master said the master bedroom has the best energy for healing."

"Willow's been getting weaker by the day. She needs to stay there—let the room's energy restore her."

"And to keep her safe, I'll be staying with her for a while."

I looked down at the luggage scattered across the floor.

My books. My clothes. Our wedding photo.

The glass over the photo had shattered. A jagged crack ran straight between our smiling faces.

"So where do I sleep?" I asked.

Orson pointed toward the ground floor.

"There's that empty room next to the housekeeper's quarters, isn't there? Clean it out and you're set."

"It's only temporary anyway. Once Willow recovers, you can move back."

That room had been meant for live-in staff. The light was terrible, so it had become a dumping ground for storage.

And now Orson was asking me—his wife, the lady of this house—to live in a storage closet. For a stranger.

Willow came padding down the stairs in my slippers.

"Orson, is Renata upset?"

"Maybe I should take that room instead…" She bit her lip, tears springing up on command. "Even though the System said if I don't sleep in the master bedroom tonight, it'll paralyze my legs…"

Orson immediately pulled her close, his voice thick with concern.

"Don't say that! As long as I'm here, no one's paralyzing anything."

He turned to me, his tone hardening.

"Renata, can you stop being so petty? Do you want to watch Willow become crippled?"

"It's just switching rooms for a few days. Why are you making such a fuss?"

"We have such a good life now—blessed by fate, really. Would it kill you to do something kind? Build some good karma?"

Blessed by fate?

I nearly laughed out loud.

There's no fate. No blessing. I traded my life for yours.

I looked at Orson's self-righteous face, and the last ripple of feeling in my heart went still.