What Happens In The Ending Of 'The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn'T A Guy At All, Vol. 3'?

How did this even happen? The girl whom she thought of as her best friend, the girl with whom she's sharing her room, is actually a guy? Hazel stood there with her feet rooted to the white marble floor, not even bothering to fake that utterly shook expression of hers by watching the handsome man dressed in woman's clothes. "She's a guy!?" Finally Hazel let it out straighning her mind. Tristan Sanchez is an undercover cop who by bad luck had to pretend as a sexy paino teacher According to his Cheif's orders. What would happen if the most dedicated and cold officer of the department falls in love with the clumsiest and cheerful girl ever. Can he complete his mission to find the culprit he's looking for? Or he will get distracted by the feeling called love.

The day I win the cheerleading championship, the entire arena erupts with cheers for my team. But from the stands, my brother, Nelson Locke, hurls a water bottle straight at me. "You injured Felicia's leg before the performance just so you could win first place? She has leukemia, Victoria! Her dying wish is to become a champion. Yet you tripped her before the competition, all for a trophy! You're selfish. I don't have a sister like you!" My fiance, who also happens to be the sponsor of the competition, steps onto the stage with a cold expression and announces, "You tested positive for illegal substances. You don't deserve this title. You're disqualified." All the fans turn against me. They boycott me entirely—some even go so far as to create a fake memorial portrait of me, print it, and send it to my doorstep. I quietly keep the photo. I'll probably need it soon anyway. It's been three years since I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Knowing I don't have much time left, I choose to become the type of person they always wanted me to be—the perfect sister who loves without question, the well-mannered woman who knows when to keep quiet, and the kind of person who never, ever lies.

The new junior researcher in our lab destroyed my antigen. Because of that, I could not submit my thesis. I lost my chance to study abroad. Three years of work gone, just like that. I was furious. I wanted to call the police, to have it investigated, to make sure she was held responsible. However, my fiancé stood in front of her, shielding her, and turned on me instead. "It's just a small experiment," he said. "Is it really worth making such a big deal out of it?" I nodded. "Of course," I said calmly. "After all, it was only an antigen that could treat your lupus. Definitely not worth making a fuss over." He froze on the spot.

On my birthday, Hazel Mosley posts about preparing a surprise for me that night on social media. However, I see a photo of her taken that afternoon. She is riding a horse with her assistant, Cecil Wilcox. In the photo, her clothes are fluttering, revealing red finger marks on her waist. Cecil's caption read, "My first ever experience is thanks to her." The comments section is full of teasing remarks. "You've got bold intentions, young man." "That position is hard to maneuver." Unbelievably, Hazel likes that comment. My heart sinks to my stomach. I always think she's just more open with me, but I never expect that it could be anyone. I personally wash the horse to wipe away every trace of intimacy. Then, I transfer the entire ranch to her. "You can give the rest of the horses to whoever you want. Feel free to pick." Looking at how overjoyed she is, I agree to the marriage arranged by my family.

During the awards portion of the annual charity gala, the host suddenly walked onto the stage holding the hands of ten children. “Tonight, we have one more very special honoree.” “She passed away after an accident, but before she died, she donated every viable organ in her body and saved the children standing beside me right now.” In the front row below the stage, the eldest son of the Sanders family, dressed in an expensive suit, let out a scornful laugh. “I wonder what idiot did that. She was already dead, and she still had to chase fame.” Beside him, Mrs. Sanders looked deeply distressed. “Her body isn’t even whole anymore. How is she supposed to rest in peace? Her parents are so cruel. How could they not stop it?” Mr. Sanders gently comforted his wife, then turned and instructed his secretary. “Once we confirm which family she belonged to, cancel every partnership we have with them from now on.” The host’s voice rang out again. “Next, please welcome the honoree’s parents to the stage.” “Chairman Sanders and his wife.”

The nanny, Polly Jackson, pushes me down the stairs when I'm seven months pregnant. I suffer from major blood loss and go into premature labor. Before I can question her about it, Zachary Campbell brushes me off with a lame excuse. "Polly didn't mean it. You and the baby are fine, so don't be so petty about this." I get out of bed to move around. I'm at the bathroom door when I hear Zachary and Polly's conversation. "Are you sure that wretch can stay alive, Zachary? Switching it out won't be that easy if it dies." "Don't worry about whether Daisy Jameson's baby can live, Mom. Either way, mine and Danielle's child will be the Campbell family's sole heir." I pretend I've never heard this and raise my son for 18 years. During a banquet held in honor of a share ownership transfer, Polly suddenly shows up with my mentally impaired daughter. She cries, "Mason is my grandson! It's high time he's returned to his rightful place after being raised by the wrong family for so long!" I'm unfazed. I even laugh at her words. "Fine, then!"