Chapter 1

Eleanor Hayes was Citadel's most dazzling and spoiled beauty. With a single glance, she could enthrall any man, and whispers claimed her admirers stretched for miles. Yet, as the Hayes family's daughter, she hardly noticed them. That all changed when her best friend, Wendy Grant, made a bet. "Eleanor, if you can win over my uncle, Alexander, you can choose any car from my garage." Alexander Grant, the head of Grant Group, was cold, disciplined, and utterly proud. He was a man no socialite would dare approach, and rumors said that even the boldest dared not come near him. Eleanor only smiled. She had never failed to get what she wanted, yet even the most carefully laid plans could be upended by the unexpected. On the very first day of the bet, she stumbled upon a drugged Alexander. Eleanor had always planned to get close to him, but by accident, she became the antidote he needed. That night, the seemingly eternal ice of Alexander's heart cracked just enough for her to slip through. For three years, they had been inseparable, and with every shared moment, Eleanor's heart had quietly given in. She had believed this man, worshipped by countless others, was hers alone—until that night shattered her certainty. After their intimate moment in the car, Eleanor spotted his sapphire cufflink lying on the seat. She picked it up, planning to return it to him. At the end of the hallway, the private room's door stood slightly open, and laughter and chatter rang out as she approached. "Alexander, are you just back from a night with her? Eleanor's usually a fiery wildcat who ignores everyone, but with you, she's all sweet and soft. Even I'm jealous. When are you going to make her yours?" Eleanor's steps faltered, and her chest tightened when that cold, familiar voice reached her. "She's just someone I sleep with. Why would I marry her?" Those words cut through Eleanor's heart like frozen shards, splintering her chest in an instant. The private room fell into an eerie silence. Even his closest friends seemed stunned by the cruel clarity of his words. Silence stretched on before someone finally asked, "Alexander, it's been three years. Are you still hung up on your first love?" First love? Did Alexander have a first love? Eleanor's mind went blank. She stood frozen outside the door, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, as Alexander let out a faint, casual hum. "After we broke up, she asked for three years. She wanted to see other people, and she expected me to do the same. If we still loved each other after that, we could get back together. She's always been restless, never feeling secure, so I let her have her way." His voice faltered slightly, carrying a subtle, unmistakable hope. "Three years have passed. She should be back soon." Eleanor felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Her entire body went cold, down to the trembling tips of her fingers. For three years, every intimate moment she had believed was shared affection turned out to be nothing more than his experiment. "What about Eleanor? She's stubborn and fiery. If she ever finds out—" Before the sentence could even be finished, Eleanor shoved open the heavy door. The room went silent as everyone turned to look at her. She looked almost ghostly in her pale skin, but her eyes, rimmed with red and glistening, burned with unyielding intensity. She paid no attention to anyone else, staring only at Alexander in the center. Alexander wore a crisp, well-fitted suit, exuding an unnerving calm. He showed no hint of surprise or fluster at her sudden appearance, maintaining that same cold, unshakable calm, as if nothing could faze him. It was precisely that cold composure that felt like salt on Eleanor's bleeding heart. If he had even the slightest affection for her, he could never have reacted like this. She stepped in front of him, staring at the face she had loved for three years. "Alexander, don't you have anything to say to me?" Alexander lifted his gaze and looked at her calmly. "I have nothing to say. It's exactly as you've heard. We're just friends-with-benefits. I always thought you knew that. "Wendy made a bet with you—win me over, and you could pick any car from her garage. If a luxury car isn't enough…" His long fingers slid a black bank card from his suit pocket and gently pushed it onto the coffee table in front of Eleanor. "100 million dollars. Consider it payment for being at my disposal these past three years. With that, our relationship is over." He stood and began to walk away. Just as he passed, Eleanor shot out her hand and gripped his wrist with all her strength, her hand ice-cold and her fingers white from the force of her grip. Alexander paused. The proud, unyielding woman he knew was now clinging to him, as if he were her only lifeline. Her voice broke as she spoke each word, yet every syllable struck with piercing clarity through the silent room. "But I fell for you!" She didn't even realize when her heart had slipped away. Perhaps it was that winter day when she was too lazy to put on shoes, and he knelt to slide slippers onto her cold feet, with his warm hands holding her ankles. Perhaps it was after her appendix surgery, when she woke up, groggy and in pain, and the first thing she saw was him at her bedside, with a faint blue shadow under his eyes. Perhaps it was countless late nights when he returned from events, carrying the faint scent of alcohol, yet still remembered her fear of thunder and pulled her close into his arms. Those ordinary, fleeting little moments had gradually built into a tidal wave that completely overwhelmed her. Yet now, he was casually telling her that she meant nothing more to him than a casual fling. "Alexander, you are so cruel," she thought. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but his phone rang, breaking the silence. He pulled it out, and the screen lit up, casting a cold glow that revealed the message before Eleanor's eyes. "Alexander, three years have passed. I've tried, but I still only love you. Let's get back together." At that instant, Eleanor felt her entire world crumble around her. Alexander's eyes stayed on the screen for a second too long before he gently pulled her hand away. "Sorry," he murmured. "I never loved you." And just like that, he turned and walked off, never once looking back.