I heard the debt collector say in a malicious tone, "One point two million dollars. If you cannot pay it back, then you will have to settle the debt with your daughter."

My father, Richard Parker, who had gambled away our lives and piled up crushing high-interest loans, clutched my hand tightly.

"Chloe, please help me. Have mercy on me!" He said pleadingly.

I'm Chloe Parker, and in that moment, my blood turned to ice. I shut my eyes in despair.

Just then, a black Rolls-Royce silently came into view.

Inside sat a man who seemed like a predator hiding itself for a hunt. With nothing more than a single glance, he made the menacing debt collector flinch.

"Sign the contract," he said to me, "or let them take you. Your choice."

He held out an agreement and two photographs. "These are my two sons. It will be your eighteenth birthday three months from now, and after that, you will pick one and be engaged to him."

His sons in the photos looked about my age, and they bore a faint resemblance to each other.

Yet one of them looked cold and distant, the other gentle and refined.

Behind me, the thugs who were brought by the debt collector were still watching us like hungry wolves. My father stood there, spineless and useless. I had no choice. So I signed my name with a trembling hand.

Yet I did not notice that the man studied my face and murmured under his breath so softly I could not hear, "She looks just like her..."

...

Only after signing did I learn that the man was George Parker, the richest man in Riverton City.

I could not understand why someone like him would ever take an interest in a girl from the slums.

But the contract was sealed. I was required to move into the Hayes Manor, his house, before my eighteenth birthday and spend time getting to know his two sons.

When the driver carried my battered suitcase into the manor, I was stunned.

The living room was high enough to put our entire alley into it. The marble floor gleamed so brightly I could see my own reflection. There were exquisite dark-gold carved patterns in the banister of the staircase.

A butler stood at the entrance, bowing slightly. "Miss Parker, this way please."

Dragging my suitcase, I followed him.

As we reached the foot of the stairs, footsteps echoed from above.

A young man came down holding a mug.

He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his smile was disarmingly bright.

He saw me and flashed a warm smile at me. "So you are Chloe Parker?"

His eyes swept over me once, then he lifted his eyebrows playfully. "Welcome. My fiancee, aren't you?"

His blunt words made my cheeks burn.

Probably sensing my discomfort, he stopped teasing me right away, quickly descended the steps, and smoothly took my suitcase from the butler's hand.

He said, "I am Ethan Hayes."

Before I could even respond, he already had my suitcase.

"The south-facing room has been prepared for you. Great sunlight there," he added, glancing sideways at me, his voice warm.

When he smiled, faint lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

For some reason, the house suddenly did not feel quite so cold anymore.

"I will show you upstairs," Ethan said, leading me upstairs.

We had just stepped onto the first stair when a door slammed open at the far end of the second-floor hallway.

Another young man emerged from his room.

He wore a baseball glove loosely on his hand. He wore a black tank top that revealed sharply defined arms.

He glanced at me, his eyes full of disdain.

"So this is the girl our old man found on the street?" He said lazily, his voice dripping with mockery.

Anger surged through me.

I clenched my fists, biting back the urge to snap at him.

"Liam," Ethan said, his tone dropping lower, "watch your mouth."

Liam Hayes, the young man who was harsh on me, snorted, turned on his heel, and went back into his room, slamming shut the door hard.

Ethan turned to me with an apologetic smile. "Do not take it personally. He is like that with everyone."

I stayed silent, my gaze still fixed on the closed door to Liam's room.

My room was on the east side of the second floor.

Deep blue curtains framed the windows, and the bed was neatly made.

Ethan put my suitcase in the corner, then pointed to the wardrobe. "We got you your school uniforms. You can find them in there."

"Thank you," I said.

He walked to the doorway, paused, and added gently, "Good night, Chloe."

Then he closed the door gently behind him.

I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the bed, but couldn't fall asleep.

After tossing and turning until the small hours, I finally gave up. I got out of bed and walked to the window in the corridor barefoot.

The full moon hung in the sky, shining cold and pale light.

It was pitch dark in the backyard below, except for a single lamp burning in the farthest corner.

Suddenly, a dull thud broke the silence.

I looked down and saw Mathew standing inside the batting cage.

Over and over, he swung, hit, and reset his bat.

His T-shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his back so tightly I could see his shoulder blades tense and relax with every motion.

After about twenty minutes, he stopped to catch his breath.

Then he lifted his head and stared up at the moon.

From this distance, I could not make out his expression.

But I saw his whole body go rigid. His shoulders slumped slightly, as if all the strength had been drained from him in an instant, making him look a bit lonely and depressed.

I suddenly felt a sting in my heart when I saw this.

I shut my eyes tight and thought to myself, standing in the dark, that I had to get a grip, and reminded myself that this was just a deal, so anyone's feelings were none of my business.

A long line of private luxury cars stretched outside Wistonia High School, dropping off its pampered golden children in a noisy rush.

I stood by the road in my uniform, clutching my old schoolbag, feeling like something that did not belong.

"Chloe!"

Ethan stepped out of a black sedan and jogged over to me.

He had changed into a dark blue uniform today, his tie perfectly straight, looking so bright and polished he could have walked out of a magazine.

He stopped in front of me and took my wrist as naturally as breathing.

His palm was warm.

I tried to pull away without thinking, but he tightened his hold gently.

"Come on. I'll take you inside." He led me through the school gates.

Countless eyes turned toward us. Some were curious, some assessing, and some openly hostile.

The teacher at reception paused. "Ethan, who is this..."

"Chloe Parker." Ethan handed over my transfer documents and raised his voice. "A guest of my family, and also my future..."

I shot my hand up and covered his mouth.

"Don't say nonsense!" I hissed, the tips of my ears burning.

He laughed under my palm, his eyes curving like crescent moons as he looked at me.

I snatched my hand back as if I had been shocked.

The paperwork went through quickly. When the teacher led me into the classroom, morning reading had just ended.

Everyone looked up.

"This is our new transfer student, Chloe Parker," the homeroom teacher introduced me briefly to the class.

My gaze swept over the room.

In the last row by the window, Liam was asleep with his head on the desk.

The seat beside him was empty.

The homeroom teacher pointed. "Chloe, sit beside Liam for now."

I walked over, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

Liam shifted but did not open his eyes.

He slept through the entire class.

I opened my notebook and tried hard to keep up.

The second class was a group discussion. The professor had just assigned the task when whispers began buzzing around us.

I turned my head.

Liam had finally woken up. He rubbed his neck, his gaze drifting over before landing on me.

"I don't team up with parasites."

Everyone nearby heard him clearly.

Someone burst out laughing, followed by more muffled snickers.

My fingers tightened around my pen.

"That's fine." I heard my own voice, calm and steady. "At least parasites know how to adapt."

The laughter stopped.

I turned and looked him straight in the eye.

He lifted a brow, as if a little surprised.

"And you, Mr. Hayes?" I went on. "If the Hayes family name were stripped away, what would you have left?"

The classroom fell completely silent.

Liam stared at me. His eyes were very dark, clouded with emotions I could not read.

A few seconds later, he suddenly smiled. It was not mockery. It looked more like interest.

"Interesting." He muttered the word, turned back around, and said nothing else.

The professor happened to come over and glanced at our blank discussion notes. "Where's your conclusion?"

"Not yet." Liam dragged out the words. "I just got warned by a parasite."

The professor glared at him, looked at me, shook his head, and walked away.

At lunch, I had just found a corner seat with my tray when a group of students surrounded me.

The girl in front had curled hair, perfect makeup, and a cheerleading skirt.

She sat across from me with a sweet smile.

"You're Chloe Parker? I'm Vanessa Collins, captain of the school cheer squad."

She was exactly the kind of girl who always appeared in the school paper, adored by everyone and raised in comfort.

"Okay." I took a bite of my sandwich.

She propped up her chin, her tone probing. "The Hayes family suddenly has someone new living with them. Everyone's curious. What does your father do?"

My fork tightened in my hand.

"I..."

I had no idea how to answer when Ethan's voice came from behind me.

"Her father is an important guest of my father. It isn't convenient to discuss."

He set his tray down beside me as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then slipped an arm around my shoulders with the ease of someone who had practiced it a thousand times.

Vanessa's smile froze.

She gave a dry laugh. "What kind of important guest needs to live at Hayes Manor?"

"Vanessa." Ethan was still smiling, but his tone had cooled. "Curiosity has limits."

Color rose and drained across Vanessa's face.

The girls beside her exchanged looks and tugged at her sleeve.

Vanessa took a deep breath and forced her smile back into place. "Since you've said so, Ethan, I'll leave."

The group left unwillingly.

My shoulders loosened, and I turned to Ethan. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He put a piece of rib into my bowl. "Eat more. You're too thin."

I took a few bites of rice. The tight string inside my chest finally loosened a little.

What I did not notice was Liam sitting alone three tables behind us.

He had flattened his straw between his teeth and was staring in our direction.

Liam watched the girl go from tense to relaxed. He watched her smile at Ethan.

A strange irritation shot through him.

Ridiculous.

He actually thought the way she had held herself together and refused to bow her head was almost pleasing.

Liam forced himself to look away.

That girl was just an outsider the old man had brought home. She had nothing to do with him.

Whether she was close to Ethan or being targeted by Vanessa, none of it had anything to do with him.

He stood, picked up his tray, and walked toward the return station.

When he passed Ethan and Chloe's table, he did not stop.

But his gaze still flicked over from the corner of his eye.

Ethan was putting food into Chloe's bowl and murmuring something.

Chloe lowered her head, the tips of her ears a little red, her lips pressed together as if she were holding back a laugh.

Liam looked away and dropped his tray into the return bin with a heavy clatter.

The metal crashed loudly.

Several nearby students jumped and looked up at him.

Expressionless, he walked out of the cafeteria and left Chloe and Ethan's laughter behind him.

When Ethan pushed the white box toward me, I was staring blankly at my textbook.

"For you."

I opened the packaging.

It was the newest phone. The moment the screen lit, it reflected my face.

He leaned over, his fingertip sliding across the screen. "The number is already saved."

I saw only one lonely name in the contacts.

Ethan Hayes.

The note read, "Your personal guide."

My heart skipped.

I looked up and met his smiling eyes.

"This is too expensive." I pushed the box back. "I can't accept it."

"Wistonia High School is huge. It's easy to get lost." He drew his hand back, his tone casual. "Call me anytime if you need anything."

He gave me no chance to refuse and naturally picked up my bag. "Come on. I'll show you around."

As Ethan held my hand and led me through the main building, students kept looking over.

He seemed completely unaware, only walking and introducing things to me in his warm voice.

He pushed open a glass door, and a grand hall appeared before me, its shelves packed with books.

"This is the library. If you want to study later, you can come here."

As he spoke, he suddenly leaned closer, his tone teasing. "If you're bored, you can ask me to keep you company. Forget Liam. He never comes here."

His clean, handsome face was suddenly so close that my heartbeat stumbled wildly.

I quickly changed the subject. "He doesn't like studying?"

"No." Ethan straightened and returned to a natural distance. "He hates anything arranged for him. Studying, exams, life plans... to him, they're all chains."

He said it lightly, as if stating an insignificant fact.

Yet for some reason, I felt there was something else pressed beneath those words.

We climbed seven flights of stairs and finally pushed open the door to the rooftop.

Wind rushed in hard. The whole campus spread beneath our feet, the field, the buildings, and the distant city skyline all in full view.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Ethan walked to the railing. "When I'm in a bad mood, I come up here for a while."

I stood beside him.

"Liam has a place of his own too." He said suddenly. "Over there."

He lifted a hand and pointed toward the southeast corner of campus.

A field enclosed by chain-link fencing lay there, green netting around home plate and a huge scoreboard beside it.

"The baseball field." He said, "Liam's territory. He's the team captain and has been Riverton's high school league MVP for three years in a row."

I stared at the field.

The shadow I had seen late last night, drenched in sweat with an ice pack on his shoulder, suddenly overlapped with that name.

"If he targets you or makes you uncomfortable, tell me anytime."

Ethan turned to face me. Sunlight fell across the side of his face, his lashes casting a small shadow beneath his eyes. "I'll help you."

His gaze was so focused that I instinctively looked away.

"I should go." I turned around. "I have class this afternoon."

He did not follow.

But I knew he was still watching me.

Afternoon PE.

Only when we gathered did I realize today's lesson was basic baseball training.

The PE teacher handed me a bat. "Chloe, try a swing."

People around me whispered.

I gripped the bat, raised it the way we had been shown, and missed completely.

"Hey, Chloe." A sneer came from the side.

I turned my head. A tall boy stood there with his arms folded, his uniform hanging loose on him. His mouth twisted downward. "Your grip is all wrong. Did the teachers in the slums never teach you?"

Several people around us laughed.

"Stop embarrassing yourself. Stick to your little hobbies."

"Exactly. This isn't a place for you."

I said nothing and adjusted my stance again.

The boy raised his voice, deliberately provoking me. "If you can't do it, don't force it. You're wasting everyone's time!"

"So noisy."

The voice came from the gym entrance.

Everyone fell silent.

Liam was leaning against the doorframe. A baseball glove hung from his shoulder, and his uniform jacket was tossed on casually.

He glanced at the bat in my hands.

"Clumsy."

He said only that, then turned and left.

His footsteps soon disappeared at the end of the hall.

The boy who had spoken earlier turned ashen and did not dare make another sound.

That night.

I opened my bedroom door, ready to go get some water.

As soon as I pushed it open, I saw something by my feet.

A copy of Baseball for Beginners.

Beside it lay a pair of new training gloves. They were black, with anti-slip texture across the palms, and exactly my size.

There was no name.

I flipped through the book. The flyleaf was blank, the pages clean. Only the first page had a light pencil sketch showing how to grip a bat, with three points of force marked beside it.

The handwriting was messy, with sharp, angular strokes.

I could not recognize whose writing it was.

Was it Ethan?