Chapter 2

By the time I saw the message, it was far too late to take it back. Admiring someone’s looks is normal enough, but for some inexplicable reason, guilt punched me right in the chest.

Then she sent another message.

“Is this your type?”

A video came attached.

It looked freshly shot at a gym. Not the overly ripped aesthetic—just smooth, pale skin and a sharply defined V-line that disappeared beneath her workout shorts. And up top…

Well, let’s just say the color was pink.

The girl in the video seemed shy. By the time the clip ended, her entire face was flushed bright red.

I was instantly hooked.

“Got more? Send another!” I fired back without thinking.

She hesitated, but eventually she sent a few more. Each one was more stunning than the last.

I’ll admit it: I was thoroughly seduced.

Who would’ve imagined my boss—the paragon of composure and restraint—could be… like this behind closed doors?

How do I even describe it?

Strangely electrifying.

Just as I was fully enjoying myself, another message popped up.

“If you agree to be my boyfriend, I’ll send you videos like this every day. As many as you want.”

People chase four things in life: money, power, fame, and beauty.

The first three don’t tempt me much. But beauty? That one hits me right in the weakness.

“Well… I guess I could consider it,” I replied.

I mean, it was just an online relationship. Nothing real.

Of course, I laid out strict ground rules: no public posts, no changing profile pictures, no video calls, and absolutely no in-person meetings.

She didn’t love the terms, but she still agreed.

And that was how it all started.

We “dated” online for two years.

As her confidence and sense of style improved, I was more than happy to enjoy the benefits. Her pictures and videos only grew more breathtaking, and she executed every look I suggested perfectly.

Honestly, I thought we could keep things this way forever—until the day she asked to meet in person.

“Didn’t we agree from the start? No meeting up. This is strictly online,” I reminded her.

She sounded hurt. “I know, I’m sorry… but I really want to see you.”

And I knew exactly why she was pushing it.

A couple days earlier, I’d gone to a college reunion. Afterward, an old classmate confessed she liked me. I turned her down politely, but she didn’t take it well and started sending me a barrage of cringe, borderline-gross messages.

Fed up, I screenshotted everything, posted it to my socials, and roasted her publicly before blocking her.

Since I was “in a relationship”—even if only online—my boss must’ve seen the post. I figured she wanted to meet to publicly assert her territory.

But I had my reasons for refusing to meet. There was no universe in which I was agreeing to that.

After dodging her requests for a full week, I finally lost patience and broke up with her.

She spiraled. Completely deflated—like someone had punctured her with a thumbtack.

My phone lit up over and over with her calls. By the tenth round, I sighed, flipped it face-down on the table, and ignored it.

That was when Kenneth, my direct supervisor, called me over.

“Mason, take this proposal to Aurora.”

Kenneth’s crush on Aurora was the worst-kept secret in the entire department. Normally he’d sprint to deliver anything to her, but she’d been in a terrible mood lately. The last time he tried comforting her, she snapped so hard he practically ran out of her office.

I winced. “Kenneth, isn’t this a bit above my pay grade? Shouldn’t you be the one—”

“Just do it. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

…Fine.

Even though I’d basically seen every inch of Aurora online, meeting her face-to-face still rattled me.

Especially at work, where she was known for her sharp tongue, iron composure, and a level of intimidation higher than her heels.

I hesitated, then grabbed my phone.

Ever since the breakup, she’d been flooding me with apologies. I hadn’t responded—not because I didn’t care but because I needed things to cool off.

I typed out a message:

“We don’t have to break up, but can you please calm down? I really don’t like it when people break promises.”

Her reply came immediately:

“Baby, you’re finally talking to me! I’m so sorry! I’ll never do it again, I promise!”

She even added a crying-puppy emoji.

I sighed, braced myself, and knocked on her office door.

There was a pause before she cleared her throat. “Come in.”

Her red-tipped nose was the first thing I noticed when I stepped inside.

Had she been crying?

She caught my glance and tapped the desk awkwardly. “Dropping off the proposal? Leave it here and go.”

Her tone was noticeably softer than usual—on a normal day, she would’ve snapped at me for bypassing Kenneth.

Of course, the proposal didn’t meet her standards, and she sent it back for revisions. Naturally, Kenneth dumped the work right back onto me.

That Friday, everyone left early, eager for the weekend. Aurora had actually left on time, and the office emptied quickly, leaving only me and the receptionist.

I stayed to finish the proposal, promising the receptionist I’d lock up afterward.

It was well past 10 p.m. when I heard the door unlocking. My heart almost shot out of my chest.

Who the hell shows up at this hour?

Images from every horror movie I’ve ever seen flashed through my head. Ghosts aren’t real, I told myself, but my body refused to move.

Then a familiar figure appeared.

Aurora.

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have a home to go to?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

I bit back the retort—Whose fault do you think this is?

“The proposal’s due soon, and I didn’t want to risk it being incomplete tomorrow. I figured I’d stay late and finish.”

Her expression softened. “Oh, that one. Let me help. It’ll be faster if I just explain what I want directly.”

I froze.

My computer was still logged into my personal account—the one I used to message her.

She stepped closer. “Pull it up. I’ll take a look.”

Panic slammed into me. I felt my brain short-circuit as I scrambled for time.

“Wait a second!” I blurted.