His Cruel Game

Three years ago, he saved me from a burning wreck. After that, he became the only light in my world. Until I heard him laugh to his best friend.

Her? he said, his voice dripping with contempt. Just a compliant little puppet.

Now I knew. Even our fated meeting was a lie.

In my arms, I held his iPad. It hummed with every guarded secret of his empire.

He used to whisper that the private videos were keepsakes of our love.

Now I knew the truth. They were his?special gift?for my brother's IPO day.

He came home late one rainy night, tipsy, his eyes drifting to the date circled in red on the calendar.

"Baby," he smiled, a familiar, cruel amusement in his eyes. "I was just thinking about the unforgettable surprise I have planned for you that day."

I looked up and smiled back. "What a coincidence. I've prepared quite the surprise for you, too."

Vivian's POV

"Maxwell, level with us. You never actually fell for Vivian, did you?"

A low, mocking chuckle drifted from inside the room.

Outside the door, my hand froze in mid-air. The motion of knocking died instantly.

Then came that familiar voice-lazy, smooth, and utterly cold.

"Fall for her? Vincent is the biggest rival I'll ever have. I live to watch him burn."

He paused, as if remarking on the weather.

"His sister was merely a convenient pawn."

A deafening buzz exploded in my head. My blood ran hot, then ice-cold in an instant.

I clutched Maxwell's iPad to my chest - a device he never let leave his side.

It held the very lifeblood of the entire Maxwell Corporation.

Tonight's meeting was critical. I'd been so worried he might forget this vital thing that I'd rushed here from the yacht, just to deliver it.

My every thought had been for him. For Maxwell.

But now, I was the punchline to a cosmic joke.

The chatter and laughter from inside the room continued, every humiliating word twisting like a knife in my chest.

"Ha! I knew it. So the plan's still a go? You're really releasing those videos when Vincent's company rings the bell?"

"Of course." Maxwell's voice carried a note of grim satisfaction. I'm just deciding on the perfect delivery method. That day is the gift. I think he's going to love it."

Videos...

My mind reeled back again.

One hour earlier. The master suite of the private yacht was bathed in a soft, intimate light.

My hair, a wild tangle, was splayed across his sculpted chest. My voice came out raw, spent. "Please, stop filming."

How did Maxwell respond then?

His chest shook with a quiet laugh. Leaning in, his hot breath brushed my ear, the cold light of the phone screen washing over my flushed skin.

"Good girl.It's just for me. A keepsake, for when I'm away and missing you."

He always knew how to make refusal impossible.

I had believed it was the ultimate intimacy. Now I knew it was a special gift, meticulously wrapped for my brother and me.

Three years of tenderness. Starting from that perfectly staged rescue,' to every promise breathed into my ear-it was all an elaborate lie.

"You have to admit, Maxwell, it was brilliant. That 'out-of-control' race car crash three years ago. Without that masterful performance, do you think Vivian-that pampered little heiress-would have ever let you play her for three whole years?"

Three years ago, a race car spun out of control.

He pulled me from the burning wreck like a guardian angel.

He was my hero. The only light in my world.

Even that meeting had been a lie.

The iPad in my hand weighed a ton. I was the pathetic clown in this twisted tragedy.

Just an hour earlier, Maxwell had kissed my forehead, that familiar gesture. "I have an important meeting. The captain will take you home. I'll be there as soon as it's over."

I'd nodded, believing I was the happiest woman alive.

Happy?

"Miss?" The waiter's voice pulled me back.

I shoved the iPad into his hands, my own trembling violently.

"Give this to Maxwell. Please. Just...say you found it. Don't tell him I was here."

Before he could reply, I turned and ran, as if escaping, rushing into the elevator.

Vivian's POV

I don't even know how I got back to the villa.

The villa was pitch black.

This was supposed to be Maxwell's and my safe haven. Our matching couple's slippers were still in the entryway.

Photos from our trip to Europe hung on the wall, and his suit jacket, which he'd casually tossed aside that morning, lay on the sofa.

Every single thing, at this moment, felt like it was mocking my stupidity.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, jarringly loud in the dead silence.

I mechanically pulled it out. The screen lit up - Vincent.

I answered. Before I could speak, tears streamed down my face. No sound, just uncontrollable sobs.

"Viv, what's wrong? Are you crying?" Vincent's voice was always so gentle, always the first to sense when something was amiss with me.

"Vin..." I only managed one syllable. My throat felt choked with cotton, unable to form words.

"Did that jerk Maxwell hurt you?" Vincent's voice instantly turned icy. He never liked Maxwell, enduring him only because I did.

I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing my sobs.

I couldn't tell him. I knew my brother too well; he'd rush over without a second thought, even if it meant risking the entire Vincent family fortune.

That was exactly what Maxwell wanted. He'd spent three years setting this trap. I couldn't let my brother fall into it because of me.

I took a deep breath, forcing calm into my voice. "No, we... we just had an arrangement."

"Vin, I'm tired. I want to come home."

Silence hung on the line for a few seconds.

"Then come home. His voice held a solid, unwavering strength. Don't think about a thing. I'll take care of everything."

"I'll find you a fianc who actually deserves you."

"Break it off. Handle what you need to, and come back. Now."

"Okay." I nodded, the rain mixing with the salt of my tears, a bitter taste on my lips. "I'm sorry, Vincent. For all these years of making you worry. I'm coming home. I'll listen to you now."

After hanging up, my legs gave out, and I couldn't stand anymore.

I rushed into the bathroom, turned the water to its hottest, and scrubbed myself fiercely from head to toe. My skin turned crimson, as if I were trying to rub off a layer.

Dressed in clean clothes, I sat at my desk and opened a new diary.

The rain beat down outside. My hand, holding the pen, hadn't quite stopped trembling.

One: Get rid of all his things.

Two: Resign from the dance company.

Three: Say goodbye to everyone in this city.

Four: Delete the videos from his phone.

I took out my calendar and found the date of Vincent's company's IPO - Wall Street's bell-ringing ceremony. I circled it heavily with a red marker.

Downstairs, the sound of a key turning in the lock.

"Circling the date so you won't forget? A voice, lazy and laced with the scent of whiskey, came from the doorway.

My body stiffened, the pen scratching a jagged line across the paper.

Maxwell leaned against the doorframe, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. His eyes were glazed, a slow, knowing smile on his lips. "Baby, I was just thinking about the unforgettable surprise I have planned for you that day."

I closed the diary, lifted my head to meet his gaze, and forced out a stiff smile, "Oh really? What a coincidence. I've prepared quite the surprise for you, too."

Vivian's POV

Maxwell seemed intrigued by my words. He walked over and embraced me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

A wave of nausea washed over me. I fought hard against the urge to push him away.

"Oh?" His breath warmed my ear. "What surprise has my darling prepared for me?"

My heart pounded, but I feigned composure, my nails digging deeper into my palms.

I turned my head slightly, maintaining that stiff smile. "What kind of surprise would it be if I told you now?"

I paused, then lowered my voice even further, "By the way, Maxwell, should we invite my brother that day?"

Maxwell's body visibly stiffened.

The arm around me tightened instinctively, causing a pang of pain.

Then, he let out a low chuckle.

"Sure," his voice returned to its usual lazy tone. "Let him see whose man his most cherished sister belongs to now."

"Bowing to love, it's embarrassing, but for you, I'll accept it."

His words were filled with tender affection, but to my ears, they sounded only incredibly ironic and sickening.

Every word reminded me of the cruel truths I had just overheard.

I lowered my eyelashes, hiding the coldness in my eyes.

I had to delete those videos.

I turned around and deliberately wrapped my arms around his waist, tilting my face up with a fragile, dependent expression.

This was what I had become most adept at over the past three years.

"We just fought, and I'm so sad." My voice had a slight nasal quality, making it sound like I was pouting. "I messaged you, but you didn't reply."

I stood on my tiptoes, reaching for the phone in his suit pocket. "Let me see, are you chatting with other girls again?"

This was a familiar game between us. Before, Maxwell would always laugh and let me play the jealous girlfriend, even actively unlocking his phone and handing it to me for inspection.

He said his phone was always open to me.

Today, however, he easily sidestepped me, caught my outstretched hand, and kissed it, his eyes hazy with drink yet terrifyingly clear. "Easy, baby, don't fuss."

His voice was still gentle. "I just finished talking business. My phone is full of company secrets; it's not convenient for you to look."

My heart sank. This man was incredibly wary.

He might not suspect I knew anything, but his inherent suspicion meant he never relaxed his guard.

Especially not after he had just finished discussing that conspiracy with his associates.

It seemed I would have to find another way.

I didn't press further, obediently retracting my hand, a hint of appropriate disappointment on my face. "Okay."

I turned and walked to the bathroom. When I came out after a shower, Maxwell was already lying in bed, seemingly asleep.

His phone lay on the bedside table, screen down, just inches from him.

I moved quietly, inching closer. The man on the bed suddenly rolled over. My outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

This man, even in his sleep, was incredibly vigilant.

It seemed I really had to wait for another opportunity.

Vivian's POV

From that day on, I was like a different person.

The next morning, Maxwell was still asleep when I started clearing out my walk-in closet. Everything he'd given me, or things we'd bought together as a couple, I packed into trash bags.

Maxwell woke up, frowned at the chaotic scene on the floor. "What are you doing so early?"

I didn't look at him, just said flatly, "These things are old. I don't like them anymore."

"If you don't like them, throw them out. I'll buy you more," Maxwell said dismissively, yawning. "Are you still going to the dance company today?"

"No," I tossed the last designer bag into a sack. "I've already quit."

Maxwell was fully awake now. He grabbed my wrist, his brows deeply furrowed. "Quit? Why? Don't you love dancing more than anything?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze with calm eyes. "I've been dancing for so many years; I'm tired. I want to rest."

Maxwell stared into my eyes for a long time, as if trying to discern something, but my gaze was as still as stagnant water. Finally, he relented, pulling me into his arms and ruffling my hair. "Alright, dancing is too exhausting. I'll take care of you from now on. You can do whatever you want."

His fingers slid down my spine, carrying a strong suggestive undertone. "Besides, baby, I don't want any other man seeing your soft waist."

My body stiffened. I pulled away, pretending to be busy. "You should get to the office. I still have to finish tidying up."

After Maxwell left, I immediately called housekeepers to haul out all those dozens of trash bags, leaving everything sparkling clean.

As soon as I finished, breathing a sigh of relief, my phone rang.

It was a text from an unknown number, the message outrageously arrogant.

"Vivian, tonight at seven, the New York Charity Gala. Dare to come and I'll show you who the real mistress is. I'm Maxwell's fiance, Chloe."

Fiance?

I stared at those three words and just found it laughable.

Turns out, I wasn't even a girlfriend, just one of his many pawns.

That evening, I arrived at the charity gala in a simple white gown and instantly became the center of attention.

Soon, a woman in a fiery red dress, covered in glittering jewelry, approached me with a glass in hand. It was Chloe.

"You're Vivian?" Chloe sized me up, her eyes dismissive. "I thought you were some beauty queen. You're nothing special. Maxwell told me he's breaking up with you soon. If you're smart, you'll disappear now. Don't wait to be publicly kicked out; it'd be too embarrassing."

I didn't even bother to lift an eyelid, just responded with a flat, "Oh."

Whatever fiance he might have, it no longer stirred a single ripple in my heart.

My indifference infuriated her. Clearly, she had never been ignored in her life.

"What is that attitude?!" she shrieked, then raised her hand and violently splashed the red wine in her glass all over me!

The cold liquid instantly soaked my pristine white gown, leaving a large, glaring stain across my chest.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd.

Chloe, far from satisfied, took another menacing step and shoved me hard toward a decorative staircase.

"How dare a mistress wear white? Have you no shame?"

Caught off guard, I fell hard, my body twisting awkwardly before impact. A sickening crack echoed as my forehead?slammed into?the sharp edge of a marble step.?White-hot pain exploded behind my eyes, and my world went black.

The hall plunged into chaos. Chloe was winding up for another kick when a voice, cold as a blade, rang out from the entrance.

"Chloe. Do you have a death wish?