"How many men were there before me? None. Do you know how much shame I carry having you by my side as my girlfriend? Even your own mother is ashamed of you - you said it yourself." "I never begged for your love, Jun," I snapped back, tears stinging my eyes. "Why date me if you're ashamed of my size?" "Pity. That was it. I dated you out of pity. And yet, you're still so ungrateful." --- All Charlotte ever wanted was to become an actress. But growing up in a family that constantly belittled her and dating a man like Jun, who tore her down because of her size, made that dream feel unreachable. After a devastating breakup, she flees to the United States, desperate for space to breathe. But she never imagined everything would change before the plane even touched down. Now, she finds herself entangled with a mysterious billionaire - one who seems dangerously obsessed with her. Charlotte knows better than to trust too easily. But how do you protect your heart when someone seems too good to be true… and refuses to let you go?
View MoreCHARLOTTE'S POV
My own mother told me she regretted the day she conceived me. She wished I had died in her womb. She screamed those words at five-year-old me, pinning me to the floor with a dagger pointed at my neck. Mummy, I’m sorry, my little voice had whispered. It wasn’t something new to me. I don’t remember the first time, but I’m sure I must have cried—terrified and confused. Yet, at the end of each outburst, she never had the heart to finish me off. I guess she wasn’t a horrible mother… just a broken woman. That day, she had come home drunk from a failed date. He had rejected her for being a single mother to a Black child. That wasn't the first time. Apparently, my father's race was an issue for them. My unknown father—whom my mother loved dearly and dated against her family’s wishes—left the country when she was seven months pregnant. He never returned. He never called. So of course, I had to pay for his sins. My mother was disowned by her family for "bringing disgrace" and "staining" the family name. And in return, she hated me for looking nothing like her but more like my father. I was told how ugly and fat I was since childhood. My own mother made sure I never forgot it. She reminded me every day—not just of my appearance, but of how deeply she hated me. I can’t say I loved her as a child, because truthfully… I didn’t even know what love was. Not even the kind they call "motherly love." Months after being rejected by her date, my mother regained her family's blessing and affection when she got engaged to a popular Hollywood filmmaker—a blue-eyed, blonde British charmer. When I was six, my mother gave birth to my twin half-sisters. People said they were the most beautiful babies they had ever seen. That was the moment I learned the difference between beauty and ugly. Six-year-old me stood in front of the mirror and accepted that I was the image of "ugly"… and my sisters, "beauty." I wasn’t even sad. At that age, I didn’t see it as cruel. I saw it as my reality. My fate. After their birth, my sisters became local celebrities. They were signed to endorsement deals for baby modeling in China. Family and friends adored them. Our grandparents worshipped them. And that’s when I realized what love actually was. I couldn’t feel it. But I could see it. And honestly? That was enough for me. It was beautiful to see someone being loved. To see my mother glowing—not drunk, not cursing, not breaking things, not threatening to kill me. I was happy. My favorite day was our family photoshoot for the twins’ one-year birthday, with both sets of grandparents. My mother and my new stepfather were seated in the middle. The Chinese and British grandparents stood beside their children. I was told to sit on the floor beside my mother. When the framed photos arrived and were hung in our living room, I was missing in every single one of them. Maybe I was too fat to fit in. But I know I could’ve slayed that photoshoot—especially with my wide smile and a missing tooth while gazing up at my little sisters. As I grew older, the hate turned into bullying—especially from kids in the neighborhood and classmates at school. I remember some encounters. “N*gga!” one kid shouted. I didn’t even know what that meant. “Fat ugly girl!” another added. I understood the latter perfectly, because my own mother called me that often. But I always replied with confidence: Yeah, I’m fat and ugly—but I’ve got beautiful sisters! You got beautiful sisters? Noooo! Yeah, I was that proud of them. I literally raised them, when my mother was too busy with her work. I would bottle-feed them, and at a tender age I learned to change diapers, sing lullabies, and put them to sleep. I loved them dearly but… unfortunately for me, they grew up and joined my bullies. They told their friends I wasn’t even related to them. Easy to believe—we looked nothing alike. However, I can't blame them for seeing me as more of a maid than a sister. They learned from our mother.My head shot up that instant. His expression wasn’t angry, but hurt—like my words had cracked something inside him. He stepped closer, his voice gentler now. “Is this… because of what happened last night?” Heat rushed to my cheeks. I don't want to talk about last night how can I escape this?I looked up and noticed his lips twitched into a sad half-smile. "I know I failed you last night. It took you so much courage to ask me to kiss you… to be your first and… I couldn't get it up, and you got mad at me, Right? It's understandable and I am a sorry excuse for a man.” I froze. My throat closed up. I had to say something. “No—that's not true,” I replied immediately. "What's not true?"He asked. I looked down. "You are the best man I have known. A father, a brother, a friend..." "But not a lover..." he added. I stare up at him and swallowed tightly. "Do you still think I am gay?" "No… no… I don’t think you are gay. And also, I was not mad at you last night… please underst
"Am I allowed to visit you?" I asked, trying to change the discussion. "Visit me? I wanted to ask the same. You know I am not residing in Hawaii. We came because Angela wanted a short break before she traveled to Africa. She is a rich model, so she sponsored our trip. Anyway, I live in Washington, D.C. If you ever feel like visiting, just take a flight. Tell me when you land, and I’ll pick you up myself from the airport. I told ya I need a roommate, and a big girl like myself will be perfect." That offer touched me so deeply that I covered my mouth for a moment, afraid my voice would break. “Thank you so much, Olive. Really.” I smiled faintly, a tear slipping free. "Don't mention it," she replied. Then there was a quiet moment where I could hear her breathing, like she wanted to say more but was holding back. "Can I ask you a question though?" she finally said. I was glad she did. "Yes..." I replied. "The guy you are staying with, what's your relationship with him?" Honest
I sat down hard beside my phone, my knees folding in, my face pressing into my hands. The sob broke out of me before I could stop it — it turned into a sharp and ugly cry. I cried until my breath came in ragged little gasps, until my eyes burned and my skin felt too tight for my body. The room blurred around me. I could still hear my mother’s voice, my sisters’ mocking, replaying in loops even though I’d stopped the message. For the first time since I’d woken, I wished I could just slip back into that heavy, dreamless dark from earlier — I wished I could just die in peace. I lay down and closed my eyes, tears rolling down the side of my face. Then Olive and Angela came to mind. They must be very worried. I picked up my phone and scrolled through my call log, hesitating a little before pressing the call button, my heart still hurting from the WeChat message my mother sent to me. When Olive’s voice came through, it carried such relief that I almost felt guilty for making her wor
Sorry its CHARLOTTE'S POV not (BEAUTY POV ) PLS incase you read it before my editor approves the correct version. Thanks :) When I woke up again, my eyes weren’t heavy anymore. So I opened them and realized that the rain had stopped. I looked around the room, and it was empty — no sign of Leo anywhere. I pushed myself up slowly, surprised at how much lighter my head felt. My body still ached in a dull, deep way, but at least the crushing weight in my chest had loosened enough to let me move. The table beside the bed was cluttered, with my phone sitting there, face-down, the screen faintly glowing with missed notifications. I picked it up. Missed calls from Olive. Missed calls from Angela. Then… a WeChat missed call from Mom. My heart skipped. I went to my WeChat and found a voice message she had sent. A voice in my head told me not to play it — it would never be good. However, I hardly ever receive any messages from my mother. I wanted to know what her message was
BEAUTY'S POV My eyes opened, but my eyelids felt heavy and sticky—crusted with last night's tears. A dull ache pulsed through my skull, and my limbs refused to cooperate. Even blinking required effort, as if my whole body had turned against me. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain—that cool, damp scent that seeps through open windows. The drumming against the glass told me the downpour was that heavy, its rhythm almost soothing. But my body was too weighed down to relax into it. Suddenly, I felt two fingers pressed against my wrist. "Her pulse is fast," an unfamiliar male voice said. "That means it's very bad". A second voice said with a panicking tone. The second voice unlike the first, was very familiar. "Please calm down, Mr. Leo. Let's check her BP." That must be a male nurse or doctor, I thought. A cuff was tightened around my arm, the pressure building until it released with a hiss. Then a sigh followed. "It's high. Significantly high. Which means she's
They hesitated. “She didn’t tell you about it?” I hesitated. “No, she didn’t.” “Well… you must’ve seen the trending video, right?” I sighed. “Yes, I did.” “She thought she was auditioning for a movie role. But the scenes they had her perform… It was actually a livestream show. A scripted one, and the organizers didn’t tell her. She fell into their trap and had no idea what was coming.” I froze, my jaw tightening. The second voice chimed in. “The poor girl thought she was playing a nasty character for an audition, but the whole world was watching her in a reality show. She got scammed, used… and God, the comments were brutal. The backlash and bullying were humiliating. Even now, the video’s still circulating. Please, take care of her.” I exhaled sharply, running my fingers through my hair. Thank God! I knew she wasn’t anything like what they’d shown onscreen. The Charlotte I’d met was the real one. I was relieved. The second voice cuts into my t
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