Chapter 2Our Beautiful Terrible Lie

The day I found out I was the villain—the "one that got away" who was destined to break him—I had just gotten Liam to finally admit he had feelings for me.

Then the System appeared.

It informed me that we were characters in a story.

I thought I was living a romance novel cliché: the wealthy heiress relentlessly pursuing the brilliant, penniless boy with a wounded soul. It had been love at first sight for me. Liam was sensitive and cold, a fortress who pushed everyone away. He ignored my every attempt at kindness, actively resisted my affection. But I was persistent. For every step he took back, I took ten forward.

I knew he was poor, so I secretly had gourmet meals delivered to his dorm. I saw that he had the grades for a top university, so I busted my ass to get into Blackwood with him. He worked three jobs to cover his expenses, so I anonymously paid his tuition and loaded his meal card with funds. I was determined to be the sun that melted his iceberg.

But the System told me my role wasn't the sun. I was the cautionary tale. The beautiful, cruel memory that would fuel his rise to power.

I didn't believe it.

It gave me what it called "corrective electroshock therapy."

I believed it then.

And my world shattered.

The System explained my purpose: to give the hero a taste of warmth and acceptance, only to drag him down into an even deeper hell. This betrayal was the catalyst. It would forge him into the dark, obsessive, and ruthless CEO he was destined to become. Only then could the heroine appear to "save" him and unlock the main love story.

The warmth part was done. Liam had fallen for me.

Now came the torture. The part that would trigger his transformation.

I refused.

The System informed me that refusal meant erasure from existence.

Okay, then. I guess I’d do it. I kind of wanted to live.

Under its duress, I began the first act of humiliation.

It was the day after we officially became a couple. He came to meet me, holding a small bouquet of flowers. They were perfect, delicate, with beads of morning dew clinging to the petals. I recognized a few of the blooms; they were outrageously expensive. I couldn't imagine how long he must have saved. He believed I deserved the best.

He walked toward me through the soft morning mist, a rare, gentle smile on his face that made him look impossibly young.

I met his hopeful gaze, forced my lips into a cold line, and delivered the first line of the script.

"Liam."

"I was just playing with you. You didn't actually take it seriously, did you?"

"I mean, look at yourself. Did you really think you were worthy of me?"

In an instant, the light in his eyes vanished, leaving behind nothing but a cold, dead emptiness.