The Billionaire's Ultimate Simp

The security guards brutally grabbed Cassie—the illegitimate sister who tried to replace me—by her hair, violently hurling her onto the muddy street outside the hotel.

Roman stood at the top of the steps, ripping the birthday invitation she had stolen to absolute shreds in one swift, unforgiving motion. I didn't even bat an eye.

I simply leaned back in the leather seat of my car, thoroughly enjoying the pathetic little show. The stupid girl probably had no idea.

Just one month ago, this violently arrogant, untouchable heir was choking back tears, desperately begging me not to dump his ass.

Chapter 1 My haute couture dress for the banquet was slashed to absolute shreds. Halfway through my shower, the hot water completely cut out.

The sudden blast of freezing water left my teeth chattering uncontrollably, and by nightfall, a raging fever was burning through my veins.

And to top it off—the VIP banquet invitation Roman had shoved into my hands was gone. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was Cassie. Cassie.

The illegitimate daughter my father dragged home on his birthday.

We lived under the same roof now, but she just couldn't shake those pathetic, thieving little habits she picked up from the gutter.

I swallowed down some Tylenol, threw on a random outfit, and had Brody, our driver, take me to the hotel. Honestly, she could keep the damn invitation.

I only planned to show up to get my dad off my back anyway. But now, I was morbidly curious.

I wanted a frontrow seat to watch exactly how Cassie was going to spectacularly crash and burn tonight. The stupid girl clearly didn't do her homework.

Roman absolutely despised liars, social climbers, and above all… being touched without permission. He was a notorious germaphobe, both physically and mentally. And Cassie?

She couldn't keep her hands to herself if her life depended on it.

She pulled the same crap on Nolan, my dad's adopted son, back at the house, always trying these cheap, trashy seduction tactics. Accidental brushes of the arm.

Innocent physical contact. Thank god Nolan saw right through her bullshit. Outside the hotel. I told Brody to pull over by the curb. It was time for the show.

The dizziness was hitting me hard in waves. The car's AC was blasting, but violent shivers still racked my body.

Brody scrambled out and slapped a cooling gel patch onto my forehead.

I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders, leaning heavily against the tinted glass, staring out into the night. Right on schedule.

Less than five minutes later, I got exactly the chaotic spectacle I came for.

The security guards brutally grabbed Cassie by her hair, violently hurling her and her cheap clutch onto the muddy street outside the hotel.

Roman stood at the top of the steps, staring down at her like she was literal trash.

The biting wind carried his harsh voice straight through the crack in my window. "Just a pathetic illegitimate rat.

Who gave you the nerve to steal an invitation and embarrass yourself here?" I couldn't catch the rest of his words over the wind. Roman was notorious for his explosive temper.

Cassie playing smart and using my name to crash his party? That suicidal move definitely pushed him straight over the edge.

Outside the car, Cassie’s face twisted in pure humiliation, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. She didn't dare utter a single syllable of defiance.

Compared to Roman's empire, my family was essentially irrelevant. Trashtier.

Cassie had her dignity publicly dragged through the mud tonight, but all she could do was swallow the blood and take it. She probably had no idea.

The furious, untouchable billionaire heir currently looking at her like she was a cockroach? He was my exboyfriend. I dumped his ass barely a month ago.

Just one month ago, this violently arrogant man had his spine bent in defeat, choking back tears as he desperately begged me to stay. …Halfway through my little viewing party, the fire suddenly jumped to my side of the fence.

Roman lifted his head. Across the dark street, his deadly gaze locked straight onto mine through the glass.

Barely two seconds passed before his voice ripped through the air. "Vivienne!" Shit.

I slammed my hand onto the window switch, rolling it up instantly. "Drive!" I snapped at Brody. "Now!" Brody was loyal, but his reflexes were absolute garbage.

Roman was practically slamming his hands onto the hood before the engine finally roared to life.

Less than an arm's length apart, Roman's dark gaze burned directly through the thick glass, pinning me to my seat.

Then, the tires screeched, and the car pulled away, leaving him in the dust. My mood skyrocketed.

A block away, I twisted the cap off my thermos and took a long, victorious sip of water. But before I could even swallow.

Brody glanced in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight. "Miss." His voice shook. "Roman… I think he's chasing us." Chapter 2 I threw a glance over my shoulder.

Of course. Roman’s car was riding our bumper. That obnoxiously flashy pink RollsRoyce was practically his signature. The fever was spiking again.

I pressed my fingers into my throbbing temples. "Lose him." In the front seat, Brody's voice trembled. "Miss, I'll… try…" Try was the operative word.

We were cornered in under a minute.

Only an arrogant billionaire like Roman would treat a multimillion dollar luxury tank like a Formula 1 car, aggressively swerving to cut us off and forcing Brody to slam on the brakes.

Brody turned around, the blood draining from his face. "Miss, I—" I waved him off. I couldn't blame the kid.

Roman was a former professional street racer; hardly anyone in this city could outmaneuver him on the asphalt.

A heavy thud against the glass announced the tall shadow looming outside the window. Roman grabbed the door handle and yanked. Locked tight.

Even through the tinted glass, I could see his jaw tense. "Vivienne.

You have exactly sixty seconds to unlock this door." He slammed his palm against the glass. "Or I'm smashing the damn window." I didn't even get a chance to open my mouth before he started counting down.

I knew him too well. The man always followed through on his threats, and his execution was always twice as violent.

He didn't even hit thirty before I rolled down the window with a heavy sigh. "What do you want?" I glared up at him. "Plenty." Roman reached in, unlocked the door, and ruthlessly shoved me aside to make room as he slid onto the leather seat next to me. "You're burning up." He stared at my face.

Then, he roughly ripped the cooling gel patch right off my forehead.

His large, scorching palm aggressively clamped onto the back of my neck, his thumb pressing heavily against my pulse as he forced me to tilt my head up and meet his dangerous gaze. "You're on fire." His brows slammed together.

He shot a freezing glare at Brody. "Drive to the Rosewood Estate. Now." Brody froze, instinctively looking at me for permission in the rearview mirror.

The noise was making my migraine worse. I pulled myself out of Roman's grip and leaned heavily against the opposite door. "I'm sick.

Why the hell are we going to your place?" Rosewood Estate was the most exclusive, hypersecured neighborhood in the city. It was where Roman lived.

Roman shot me a dark look. "What do you think?

I'm having Graham look at you." He scoffed. "Your immune system is garbage, and you never take your meds." Graham was his ultraexpensive private doctor.

They were cut from the same arrogant cloth and eventually became best friends. I opened my mouth to argue, but the world suddenly spun.

Intimidated by Roman's lethal aura, Brody didn't wait for another warning. He hit the gas. And that was just how the untouchable heir operated.

A globally limitededition supercar, casually abandoned on the side of a grimy street like a cheap toy.

His own birthday bash—packed to the brim with the city's top elite—tossed out the window halfway through. He just dumped the whole mess and walked away.

I wanted to call him a reckless psycho, but my throat felt like sandpaper. Through the dizzying haze, I vaguely registered a heavy sigh above my head.

Someone muttered a harsh, frustrated curse, and then strong arms pulled me firmly into a warm chest.

The movement was aggressive, yet impossibly gentle. … In the feverish blur, someone forced pills down my throat. Then, I felt hands trying to peel off my clothes.

Pure instinct took over. I swatted the hands away, mumbled a string of curses at Roman, and slurred a sharp reminder that we were officially broken up.

But when I finally forced my heavy eyelids open, I was staring at the shocked face of Greta, Roman's head housekeeper.

A second later, Roman's furious, muffled voice echoed from the hallway outside the bedroom door. "She's burning alive and still playing the fucking saint!" A weak laugh bubbled up in my throat.

But the fever was dragging me under again. My eyes fluttered shut, and I plunged back into the dark. Chapter 3 The next morning, I woke up in Roman's bed.

The same untouchable heir who had publicly annihilated Cassie yesterday was currently crammed into a tiny armchair in the corner, fast asleep.

I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. The raging fever had broken. The room was dead silent. His bed was obscenely comfortable.

The fever left my limbs feeling like heavy lead, so instead of dragging myself up, I propped my head on my arm and just watched him.

The man was sixfootsomething of pure muscle; folding himself into that tiny chair looked straightup agonizing. He was tossing and turning, his dark brows pulled tight.

The long lashes resting against his cheekbones fluttered slightly, like he was on a hairtrigger.

I honestly never expected to end up spending the night with Roman again after I dumped him. Just as the thought crossed my mind, his eyes snapped open.

He pushed himself up from the chair, stretching his cramped arms with a heavy groan, before pinning me with a raised brow. "If you're going to stare, Vivienne, just stare.

Sneaking looks is pathetic." I rolled my eyes and looked away. "Idiot." There were probably less than five people in this entire city with the balls to insult him to his face.

And there he was. My curse caught him off guard for a second, before he gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, "Spoiled brat." Yeah, well.

Spoiled by him, absolutely fearless because of it. That was exactly who I was.

Roman stalked over from the chair, demanding to know what the hell happened at the party yesterday and why that illegitimate rat was parading around with my VIP invitation.

I blinked slowly. It was a long, exhausting story, and I honestly didn't have the energy to explain her brand of crazy right now.

I was just trying to come up with a lazy excuse when the heavy bedroom door was violently kicked open from the outside.

His mother stood in the doorway, a young woman trailing right behind her.

The absolute freezing hostility on the older woman's face immediately dragged me back to the brutal standoff we had a month ago. She was just as fiercely ruthless as ever.

The second she locked eyes with me, she spat, "You little homewrecker," and stormed straight toward the bed, raising her manicured hand to slap me across the face. Too bad for her.

It didn't land.

I didn't flinch, nor did I shrink back; instead, I tilted my chin up, meeting her deadly glare with absolute, provocative defiance, every muscle coiled and ready to strike right back.

Roman’s hand shot out like a viper, his fingers clamping down on his mother’s wrist in a bonecrushing grip, his face pure murder. Right. His arrogant, explosive temper?

He inherited every single drop of it directly from her. When he straightened up, he towered over his mother, even in her stilettos.

The muscles in his jaw ticked as he laid down the law, zero respect in his tone. "Listen! I don't care if you're my mother.

You don't get to kick my door down at the crack of dawn and try to lay hands on my woman." Sitting safely behind his broad back, I silently rolled my eyes.

Who the hell was his woman. He viciously shoved her hand away. I leaned out slightly to check his mother’s reaction.

The usually poised, intimidating matriarch was practically turning purple with rage thanks to her precious son. "Your woman?" She shot me a venomous glare and violently yanked the girl standing behind her forward.

My eyes naturally followed the movement. The girl looked a bit younger than me, maybe twenty. You could smell the oldmoney pedigree on her from a mile away.

She looked delicate, fragile, but undeniably classy. The exact opposite of someone like me—a vulgar nouveau riche upstart.

Before I could even finish sizing her up, his mother dropped the rest of her sentence like a bomb. "Then what about Madeline? She is your actual fiancée!" Fiancée?

My gaze snapped right back to the girl. I knew exactly who she was now.

Back when we were still together, his family had very publicly arranged an engagement between him and the daughter of the ultrawealthy Cheng family.

Even though he had literally smashed the engagement party to absolute pieces, the contract was still legally binding. The Chengs were true, untouchable high society.

Chapter 4 "Bullshit!" Roman cursed, stepping firmly in front of me to block her view. "If you love her so much, you marry her.

Don't play matchmaker with my life." His mother literally shook with rage. "Roman, do not forget that I am your mother!" "Right." Roman casually ran a hand through his dark hair. "If you can't marry her, let Dad do it.

I don't give a damn, just keep her away from me." He might have just been running his mouth, but Madeline’s features twisted as her pristine facade shattered.

The pampered heiress had clearly never been humiliated like this in her life, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears. Even Roman seemed to realize he pushed it too far.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his tone dropping a fraction. "Look, don't take it personally.

I'm not targeting you." But right after that, the idiot actually added, "I just want to make it crystal clear to the woman standing next to you: in my eyes, other than Vivienne, every other woman in this world is no different from disgusting, rotting garbage." As if his mother wasn't close enough to an aneurysm, he flashed her a brilliant, mocking smile and drawled, "And Mom?

That includes you." …Ultimately, his mother stormed out. She didn't have a choice.

He was her golden boy, spoiled rotten since birth, and he had inherited every single ounce of her vicious arrogance.

There wasn't a single room in this city he wouldn't happily burn to the ground. The second the door clicked shut behind them, Roman spun back around.

He raised an eyebrow, wearing a cocky smirk like he was waiting for an award. "Well?

Tell me I didn't look incredibly hot just now." He leaned in, crowding my personal space. "Regretting dumping me yet?" I lifted both hands, squishing his cheeks together. "Get out." Roman blinked, his smirk dropping. "What?" I let go and casually walked over to his massive closet, expertly digging out the clothes I hadn't packed when we broke up.

I need to change. Out. "Oh." The ruthless, untouchable billionaire heir from five seconds ago instantly deflated like a kicked puppy and shuffled out of the room.

He even made sure to gently click the door shut behind him. I threw on my clothes, splashed cold water on my face, and opened the door. The idiot hadn't left.

He was literally crouched in the hallway outside the room. The second I stepped out, he shot to his feet.

For a split second, looking at that dangerously handsome face, I was vividly reminded of a massive guard dog I owned as a kid.

If Roman had a tail, it would be wagging so hard right now it'd snap off. It was a damn shame. I couldn't stay. I told him I was heading home.

He froze for a second, but eventually swallowed it and agreed.

Still, as I climbed into the back seat of my car, he ruthlessly shoved a massive bag of ultraexpensive prescription meds into the footwell, fiercely ordering me to take them if my fever spiked again. "I will." Brody hadn't left last night; he'd slept in the driver's seat.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I noticed Roman’s obnoxiously flashy pink RollsRoyce safely parked in the open glass garage.

On the ride back, I plugged my dead phone into the charger and booted it up. The screen instantly lit up with a barrage of missed calls and texts. All from Nolan.

Meanwhile, I had been completely MIA all night with a raging fever, and my dear father hadn't bothered to call me a single time. Home.

When I pushed the heavy front door open, the family was gathered around the dining table for breakfast. My dad, Cassie, Nolan, and Rhonda. Rhonda. Cassie’s biological mother.

The woman who had been my dad's dirty little secret for over a decade, the literal homewrecker who had finally clawed her way into the official wife position this year.

No one even looked up at me. Except Nolan. He locked eyes with me, immediately stood up, and disappeared into the kitchen.

When he walked back out, he was holding a steaming bowl of fresh soup. "Made this for you this morning. Drink it while it's hot." Nolan's voice was low and steady.

He set the bowl down at my usual spot and lifted the lid, letting the rich, savory scent fill the air. Chapter 5 He was always like this. Gentle in his words, gentle in his soul.

But God had never been gentle to him. Nolan grew up without a mother and suffered from a severe congenital heart defect.

His father raised him singlehandedly until he was seven, when the man died saving my dad's life. Out of obligation, my dad took Nolan in as his adopted son.

I was only five when Nolan came to our house. But my dad's adoption was purely a PR stunt—a calculated show put on for outsiders to save face.

For years, he provided only the bare minimum conservative treatment for Nolan's heart condition. He never physically abused him, but he essentially treated him like a ghost.

As far as my dad was concerned, as long as Nolan wasn't actively starving to death, his job was done. As for my mother, she was inherently cold.

She barely had any warmth for me, her own biological daughter, let alone Nolan. I murmured a thanks.

But the second I sat down, the bowl of soup was abruptly snatched away by Cassie. "Nolan, I want soup too.

I caught a chill last night, so I'll just take this one." Cassie weaponized her sickeningly sweet, babylike voice.

She made it sound like a polite question, but her greedy hands never stopped moving. Nolan's brows pulled together slightly.

He was usually a complete pacifist—unless I was involved. He leaned over, firmly pulling the bowl back out of her grip.

His tone remained perfectly even, devoid of any visible anger. "If you want some, I'll have Greta make you a fresh batch.

My cooking isn't that good anyway." After a brief tugofwar, the soup landed right back in front of me. Rhonda aggressively slammed her chopsticks onto the table. "Enough!

It's just a damn bowl of soup, it's not like anyone has to drink it. I get it. In your eyes, Cassie and I are just outsiders.

You two are the real family…" She let her voice choke on a perfectly timed sob. Honestly, the Oscars were missing out on a generational talent.

Cassie immediately jumped in, weaponizing her tears to accuse Nolan of blatant favoritism. She shrieked about how he hated them and always ganged up with me to bully her.

Seeing my dad sitting there like a silent, indifferent statue, Cassie's confidence skyrocketed. She actually stepped up and violently shoved Nolan.

Nolan just frowned, his lips pressed in a tight line, letting her push and pull at him without a single word of protest. But.

Nolan might tolerate her bullshit, but I absolutely would not. With his fragile heart, he couldn't handle this kind of physical harassment.

The dining room, which had devolved into pure chaos the second I walked in, instantly dropped into dead silence following my next move.

I grabbed the glass of ice water filled to the brim with cubes from the table, and without a shred of hesitation, violently hurled it straight into Cassie's fake, hypocritical face.

The freezing liquid cascaded down her meticulously styled hair, leaving her looking like a pathetic, drenched rat as it slipped down her collar.

Cassie stood paralyzed, her mouth hanging wide open as the freezing water dripped from her chin. And me? I successfully earned a vicious slap across the face from my dad.

I tilted my head slightly but didn't bother dodging. The strike landed with a sharp, heavy crack.

The same father who had sat in deafening silence just seconds ago was now furious, his face twisted in rage as he screamed at me for being an unhinged disgrace.

And of course, Nolan, who instantly stepped in front of me to shield my body, caught the crossfire of his verbal abuse.

I was grounded, locked in my bedroom with strict orders not to step out. But Nolan simply climbed in through my secondstory window. I bolted over to grab his arm and steady him.

He was out of his goddamn mind. Yes, both our rooms were on the second floor, but his heart defect was severe.

He wasn't supposed to engage in any strenuous exercise, let alone pull a dangerous stunt like scaling the side of a house.

Inside my locked room, Nolan stared intensely at the bright red handprint swelling on my left cheek. His brows were pulled into a tight, agonizing knot.

He was never a man of many words.

After staring in silence for what felt like an eternity, he only managed to choke out one raspy sentence. "How could he do that to you?" I just offered a cynical smirk.

It really didn't matter. My cheek was still throbbing and swollen, but the pain had faded into numbness a long time ago. My dad? Of course he could do that to me.

I wasn't his only daughter anymore. Chapter 6 That Cassie outside, despite wearing the title of illegitimate daughter, was his precious little princess. Why?

Because Rhonda, who had played the devoted secret mistress for over a decade, was deemed the absolute love of my dad's life. My mom and I?

We were just the stumbling blocks standing in the way of his perfect, twisted happiness.

But he conveniently forgot exactly whose family money he leached off of to build his pathetic little empire in the first place.

Nolan brought in some ice, carefully wrapping it in a towel before gently pressing it against my red, swollen cheek.

We were just idly chatting when, suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Before Nolan and I could even process the sudden noise, the locked bedroom door swung wide open.

Nolan didn't even have a split second to hide. We were sitting shouldertoshoulder on the sofa. We looked up… It was Roman.

Right behind him stood my dad, wearing a sickeningly cautious, apologetic smile. The arrogant smirk on Roman's face instantly froze.

As our eyes locked, his jaw tightened, the muscles ticking rapidly before his dark gaze hardened into a lethal stare. I suppressed a heavy sigh and silently counted to three.

I barely reached three in my head before Roman kicked the heavy coffee table, sending it crashing into the wall. "Vivienne, locking yourselves in a bedroom, just a man and a woman?" He sneered, his chest heaving. "What exactly were you two doing, getting ready to play some trashy game of strip poker?" Behind Roman, the color completely drained from my dad's face.

It made sense. In his pathetic mind, managing to latch onto the untouchable heir of the Roman empire would be the ultimate blessing for our family.

He never expected his golden ticket to spontaneously combust before he could even cash it in. In Roman's blind spot, my dad was frantically shooting me desperate, wideeyed glares.

His face practically screamed in bold letters: Do not piss off this absolute psycho.

I completely ignored my dad's panicked signals, lifting my chin to look straight into Roman's dark, furious eyes. "Well, actually, now that you're here, we have enough players." I drawled lazily. "Why?

Are you so pissed off because you wanted to join us for something a little more thrilling?" My dad and Roman's faces instantly twisted, each looking more murderous than the last.

However, right as the tension in the room reached a breaking point, Cassie showed up.

The girl was like a bloodhound for drama; wherever there was chaos, she was right there sniffing it out. "Roman…" She started, using that sickeningly weak, fragile voice, eager to step on my neck just to win some brownie points with him. "Please don't be too angry.

Honestly, I noticed a long time ago that my sister and Nolan had… a highly inappropriate relationship.

I tried to warn you at the banquet last time, but…" I casually took the ice pack from Nolan's hand, pressing it against my own cheek, and silently finished Cassie's sentence for her in my head—But, you threw me out like a piece of trash last time.

How incredibly predictable. People like Cassie never learned their lesson.

She got publicly humiliated and dragged through the mud last time, yet here she was, brazenly throwing herself into the line of fire again.

Did she honestly think a lethal predator like Roman could be swayed by a couple of weak, sycophantic words?

The man had violence baked into his DNA, and there was nothing he despised more than pathetic little rats running their mouths. Right on schedule.

The absolute second Cassie's voice trailed off, Roman shot her a lethal glare. He pointed a finger at her. "Did I give you permission to open your mouth?

Who the hell told you to start barking in here?" Cassie froze, completely humiliated. All her fake grievances instantly bubbled up to the surface.

Her lips trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, making my dad look simultaneously heartbroken and utterly helpless. But if she just gave up that easily, she wouldn't be Cassie.

She wasn't entirely braindead. After hitting the brick wall of Roman's temper a few times, she finally realized she was never going to get anything out of him.

However—she might not get anything out of it, but she was absolutely determined to drag me down to hell with her.

Chapter 7 And just like that, my dear sister instantly switched up her strategy.

Instead of addressing Roman directly, she locked her crosshairs right onto me. "Sister, just because of Nolan, you threw a glass of freezing ice water all over my face.

Dad only wanted you to cool off in your room, but you…" She let out a dramatic, heartbroken sigh. "How could you secretly hook up with Nolan in your bedroom?

Even if there's no blood relation, he's still our brother! That is sick!" Crash— I didn't even have to open my mouth to defend myself before someone else did the dirty work for me.

Roman grabbed a glass from the table and violently hurled it right at her feet.

The shattering glass instantly sliced open her calf. "I don't hit women," Roman’s voice was pure ice, "but I can make the way you get thrown out of here look incredibly ugly." After delivering that threat, Roman shot my dad a lethal, provoking glare as he rushed to shield Cassie.

The underlying message was painfully clear: Say one word to defend your precious daughter, and I'll destroy you too.

My dad might just be a nouveau riche businessman, but he had survived in the corporate bloodbath for years. If he couldn't read the room by now, he would have been eaten alive.

Gritting his teeth and plastering on a pathetic, apologetic smile, he scolded Cassie for being completely ignorant and quickly dragged her out of the room.

He knew perfectly well that when it came to Roman's fury, we were entirely on our own. The heavy door clicked shut. It was just the three of us left.

The second Roman and my dad had barged in, Nolan had stood up. He took a step forward, positioning himself protectively to my front left.

Honestly, Roman was probably too blinded by rage to notice the actual details when he kicked the door open. Nolan and I were sitting on the same loveseat, but we were both slim.

The spot where Nolan was sitting was still half a person's distance away from me. We hadn't even brushed elbows.

Roman leaned heavily against the doorframe, taking a deep, ragged breath. He stared dead at me. "Is what that idiot said true?

You dumped a glass of water on her… for him?" I didn't rush to answer. Honestly, a small part of me wanted to laugh.

Cassie had thrown herself at him time and time again, and Roman still couldn't even remember her damn name. "Yeah." The single syllable completely shattered the last thread of Roman's restraint.

He lunged forward, his fist violently twisting into the fabric of Nolan's collar. "I always knew your feelings for Vivienne were never innocent." He gritted out, pulling his arm back to throw a brutal punch.

Nolan didn't even try to dodge.

Instead, his hand shot up, gripping Roman's collar right back. "You and Vivienne are broken up." The reminder was perfectly timed, ruthlessly stabbing Roman right in his most agonizing open wound.

Seeing them about to tear each other apart, I scrambled up to break it up. Alright, fine, I was playing favorites.

Nolan's body was too fragile to take a beating, so I shoved Roman away with everything I had. But in the chaotic struggle, the ice pack slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

Caught off guard by my sudden shove, Roman's expensive shoe caught the slick, wet towel, and he went down hard.

The usually flawless, untouchable billionaire heir was now sprawled awkwardly on the floor. My heart dropped.

I instantly rushed forward to help him up. "Are you okay—" Before the words even left my mouth, he violently slapped my hand away.

His dark brows pulled into a tight, agonizing knot as he stared up at me. The chaotic emotions in his eyes flickered violently.

He was usually so explosive, so quick to snap, but this time, he just stared in suffocating silence.

It took him a long time to finally choke out a single, broken sentence. "You pushed me… for him?" I swallowed a heavy sigh. The young heir's logic was always uniquely twisted.

He had completely blamed his clumsy, icepackinduced fall entirely on me. Though, to be fair, I did push him.

After quickly scanning his body to make sure he wasn't actually injured, I let out a breath of relief. I reached out again, trying to explain patiently. "I didn't.

I just didn't want you two to fight." But Roman's jaw locked tight, deaf to anything else I had to say.

The temperamental heir snapped, his chest heaving as he shattered the glass coffee table and tore through every piece of furniture in my room.

Then, carrying a suffocating wave of pure, absolute fury, he stormed out. Chapter 8 I didn't try to stop him from beginning to end. Nolan tried to intervene, but I held him back.

I just stood rooted to the spot, watching him violently vent his rage, watching him walk away. I watched his tall silhouette disappear down the long hallway.

Only then did a heavy sigh finally escape my lips. Nolan stepped up to me, his brows knitted together. "His temper is way too explosive.

It's for the best that you two broke up." I wanted to laugh, but the muscles in my face wouldn't cooperate. "It's not just his personality. It's clinical.

He suffers from severe bipolar mania." And that was exactly why his fiercely ruthless mother, even when she was halfdead from anger, always chose to silently swallow her rage.

Nolan froze for a long time, not saying another word. Instead, he just bent down and silently started cleaning up the chaotic mess Roman had left behind.

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. After a long while.

Nolan suddenly asked, "In your heart… do you really see me as your real brother?" I paused, instantly recalling the chaotic struggle earlier.

I had yelled at Roman, trying to explain that even though Nolan and I shared no blood, in my eyes, he was my actual brother. Hearing him ask that now, I looked up.

Nolan was tightly gripping a small stuffed animal he had picked up from the floor.

My memory flashed—it was the exact same one he had won for me from a claw machine when he sneaked me out to the amusement park as kids.

Nolan stood by the window, the sunlight casting a dark silhouette over him. He was always wearing that same gentle, easy smile, as if it was the only expression he knew how to make.

I knew that because of his background, Nolan had absolutely zero sense of security.

So when he asked, I nodded without a single shred of hesitation. "Yeah." I bent down and picked up another fallen stuffed animal from the wreckage. "Always." Nolan let out a soft, low chuckle. "That's good, then." After that, he didn't say another word, just silently bending over to pick up the scattered, broken pieces off the floor.

Recently, it was a massive day for our family—Rhonda's fortieth birthday. I scoffed mentally. Just a pair of pathetic, classless trash.

Back in the day, to suck up to my mom's wealthy family, my dad used to bend over backward.

He would throw two massive birthday bashes for her a year—one for the solar calendar, one for the lunar.

These were all just my dad's standard, manipulative tactics to keep a woman happy.

I had zero intention of going, but Rhonda and her daughter must have fed my dad some serious brainwashing poison.

He gave me an absolute, nonnegotiable order: I had to show up and give Aunt Rhonda my blessings. Aunt Rhonda. The title literally made me want to gag. But I agreed to go anyway.

Because after thinking about it, my dad was actually right. It was a milestone birthday, after all.

If I didn't personally deliver a massive, unforgettable gift, it would be incredibly rude of me.

At the extravagant birthday banquet, Rhonda's entire extended family showed up in droves—dozens of them. Too bad for them.

Even though she had leached off my dad and aggressively upgraded her lifestyle over the years, her trashy relatives still clung to their original gutter traits: spiteful, obnoxious, and completely braindead.

It wasn't even me being prejudiced; it was just hard, objective facts. The entire Rhonda clan was decked out in brandnew, painfully obvious designer clothes today.

They strutted around the ballroom with their chests puffed out, looking exactly like the loud, obnoxious roosters my grandmother used to keep on her farm.

I casually picked a quiet, secluded corner, grabbed a glass of champagne, and drank by myself. But it didn't take long for that little slice of peace to be completely shattered.

Chapter 9 Cassie strutted over with a heavily madeup woman. I narrowed my eyes, barely recognizing her as one of Cassie's trashy cousins.

The two of them were decked out in haute couture, looking down their noses at me. "Vivienne, didn't expect you to hit rock bottom this fast.

Wow, you look absolutely pathetic." The cousin smirked, hiding a fake giggle behind her manicured hand. Cassie didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, Sister.

The tailoring is so cheap, it's an embarrassment to the family. If you're that broke, just tell me.

I have some old dresses I can donate to you." She leaned in, scanning my face. "You didn't even put on makeup?" Her voice was perfectly pitched to carry to the surrounding crowd. "Sister, I'll have the maids drop off some of my old lipstick in your room later.

Don't be shy, I've already used them anyway." Cassie was dead set on humiliating me in public.

She didn't give a damn if people thought the new mistress and her daughter were abusing the exwife's kid.

Tonight's guest list was strictly Rhonda's trashy relatives and my dad's opportunistic business partners.

She was desperately trying to step on my neck to elevate her own pathetic status. Too bad. Cassie always had terrible judgment and picked fights with the wrong people.

She kept slamming her head against a brick wall trying to seduce Roman, and she definitely wasn't getting a free pass from me either.

I took a slow sip of my champagne, completely unbothered. "Keep the trashy makeup. I don't put garbage on my face. And—great eye, little sister. This dress is incredibly cheap.

You can grab two of these for ten bucks at a thrift store.

After all, showing up to a trashy, lowclass party like this isn't exactly worth bringing out my actual haute couture." I swirled the champagne in my glass with one hand and casually flicked the hem of my dress with the other, flashing a flawless smile. "This kind of cheap knockoff is a perfect match for your mother's birthday." I didn't raise my voice, but it was loud enough for all the nosy bystanders to hear.

The smug smiles instantly wiped off their faces, their mouths opening and closing like suffocating fish as they struggled to find a comeback.

They couldn't scrape together a single comeback and finally stomped off, muttering curses under their breath. I smirked and took another sip of my champagne. Flawless victory.

But this was just the appetizer. The real show hasn't even started yet, little sister. The banquet dragged on.

When the music shifted and everyone started pulling their dates onto the dance floor, Cassie popped up right in front of me again like a desperate ghost.

She had a guy trailing behind her in a stiff suit.

He looked early twenties—decent face, but the physique was seriously lacking. "Where's your date, Sister?" Barely half an hour after I publicly humiliated her, Cassie just couldn't help herself.

She dramatically scanned the empty space around me. "Oh no, did literally nobody ask you to dance? Don't be sad.

How about I pick out a few guys for you?" I didn't say a single word. I just stood there, quietly watching her direct her own pathetic little play.

Cassie immediately waved over a group of guys. "Go ahead, Sister. Pick one." The second the words left her mouth, the guys shook their heads in exaggerated disgust. "No thanks.

I don't do leftovers. Way too old for me." "Yeah, Cassie.

Even if we're desperate for a date, you can't just toss a washedup older woman at us." The last guy really leaned into his acting role.

He balled his fists, glaring at Cassie with fake outrage. "Exactly. This is basically an insult to us." Chapter 10 I stood there watching, a dry laugh bubbling in my throat.

Cassie was actually starting to disappoint me. If this pathetic, juvenile setup was the best she could do, I was genuinely bored.

Seeing their little performance dragging to an end, I casually cupped my hand and lit a cigarette. I blew out a slow plume of smoke, a lazy smirk on my lips. "Save it, boys.

Trash like you could throw yourselves at my feet, and I'd lose if I even spared you a second glance." I was sick of Cassie's cheap tactics and didn't want to waste another breath on her.

But just as I took another drag, a deep, magnetic voice cut through the air behind me. "Are you fucking kidding me?

The woman I can't even get to look at me, and you pathetic losers are standing here nitpicking?" That voice was painfully familiar.

I didn't even need to turn around to know it was Roman. What the hell was he doing here?

Aside from the initial, involuntary tensing of my spine, I quickly recovered, smoothly taking another drag of my cigarette. But.

A few seconds later, he stepped right into my personal space, effortlessly plucking the cigarette right from between my fingers. "Cut the smoking.

It's garbage for your health." Roman's tone dropped, his voice dangerously soft. The freshly lit cigarette was now resting perfectly between his fingers.

He suddenly wrapped his strong arm around me, yanking me flush against his chest. His grip on my waist was completely territorial and hyperaggressive.

He stared dead at the group of guys, his eyes completely void of humanity, looking at them like they were already corpses. "You have exactly three seconds to get the fuck out of my sight, or I'll have someone shatter your kneecaps." …The group of guys practically tripped over themselves scrambling away.

Roman's sudden appearance sucked the air straight out of the room, plunging the entire banquet hall into a dead, suffocating silence.

Moments later, my dad scurried over, dragging his new wife and daughter behind him, his face plastered with a sickeningly sycophantic smile as he greeted Roman.

And he was clearly thrilled. Having the untouchable Roman empire show up at his trashy wife's birthday bash was enough social currency for him to brag about for an entire month.

Roman quickly checked my expression before offering my dad a bare, dismissive nod. Once my dad finally took the hint and scurried off, Roman slowly released my waist.

He clenched his jaw, stewing in silence for a long moment before his voice dropped low. "I lost control the other day. I'm sorry.

I spent the last few days hunting down exact replicas of everything I smashed in your room. I'm having it all delivered to your house this afternoon.

Is that okay?" He watched my face closely, his posture tense and incredibly careful.

There wasn't a single trace of the violently arrogant billionaire heir who regularly turned this city upside down. A weird tightness gripped my chest.

I stayed silent for a moment before finally giving a small nod. "Fine. Thank you." Roman let out a massive, visible exhale.

Seeing that Roman had zero interest in hitting the dance floor, my dad practically tripped over himself rushing to cancel the dancing portion of the night entirely.

I had intentionally picked this secluded corner, but the second Roman showed up, every single desperate social climber in the room was aggressively trying to orbit us.

My patience was completely gone.

I tapped his broad shoulder, leaning in close. "Since you're already here, want a frontrow seat to a show?" Roman always understood exactly how my mind worked.

It didn't even take a second for a dark, predatory smirk to curve his lips. "Absolutely.

Shopping for furniture has been making me incredibly homicidal lately anyway." He crushed his cigarette out, his voice suddenly cutting loud and clear through the room. "Since today is Rhonda's birthday, Vivienne and I have decided to give you all a massive gift." The moment Roman spoke, the entire banquet hall dropped into absolute, terrifying silence.

Pure joy exploded across my dad's face as he aggressively showered Roman with sycophantic thanks.

Rhonda maintained a painfully stiff, grateful smile, but her knuckles turned bonewhite as she gripped her designer clutch, the veins pulsing on the back of her hand.

After a few agonizingly quiet seconds, the massive LED screen at the front of the hall suddenly sparked to life with a video. Honestly, my dad brought this entirely on himself.

He just had to rent a massive jumbotron to blast a nauseating slideshow of him and Rhonda all night. He practically handed me the murder weapon on a silver platter.

Chapter 11 I had spent half a month preparing this exact video