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Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

During the holidays, my boss wants us to choose between a holiday bonus and tarts. I don't like tarts at all, so I'm the first one to vote for a bonus. But the intern, Davin Holt, who's in charge of gathering everyone's votes and opinions, is quick to pin me on the hall of shame in the company's group chat. "Fabian, we mainly celebrate the holidays just to experience the atmosphere, you know? Isn't it too materialistic of you to vote for a bonus instead?" The department head tags me in the group chat as well. "Fabian, our company prioritizes the team spirit even more." In the end, everyone except me chooses the tarts. On the day of our holiday team bonding event, Davin bought everyone nut tarts. He knows that I'm allergic to nuts, and yet he still forces me to eat the tart in front of my boss just to show that I have team spirit. "Fabian, I bought the tarts with everyone's bonus. You can't just rain on our parade by rejecting them, right?" The next thing I know, I begin having difficulties breathing. At the same time, patches of red rashes break out on my skin. But Davin shoots me a look of disgust. "Dude, must you really spoil the mood while everyone else is having fun?" Desperately, I rummage through my bag for my allergy medication, only to see more tarts in its place. The sight of me looking so wretched makes Davin roar in laughter. "Medicine can be harmful to you, you know! You should have more desserts instead! That's why I've changed all of your medication to tarts!" Already, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. So, I text the CEO of this company on the spot. "Mom, my allergy is acting up! I'm at…"

On the night I add my new girlfriend, Celia Spencer, into my group chat with my friends, my college roommate, Kevin Wright, suddenly posts more than a dozen screenshots in the group chat. Those screenshots feature the fragments of daily life I occasionally post on my social media feed. "Now here's where things get confusing. We only earn thousands of dollars per month. Where on earth did you get your money from in order to live such a lavish life? "I've been holding my tongue for far too long. At first, I intended to protect your pride. But now that you're dating such a wonderful, beautiful, and rich woman, I don't have the heart to see her getting lied to." In the end, Kevin tags Celia in the group chat. His words are filled with regret and pain. "Ms. Spencer, you're a rich scion, so you might not know anything about the bottom feeders' tactics. A fake scion like Luke who has racked up a huge online debt and brands his social media feed to look rich is very common in society! You have to keep your eyes open, you know! Take care not to get tricked by scammers!" As I suppress my anger, I respond with, "I never stole nor robbed from others! What's wrong with me spending my own money?" Kevin quickly retaliates with a lengthy audio message. "Your own money, you say? Your net worth isn't enough to afford even one segment of that luxury wristwatch in the photo! Why are you still pretending to be rich?" I just laugh in response. Does Kevin really think that rich people don't wear cheap stuff? What he doesn't know is that Celia, the so-called rich and beautiful woman he's trying so hard to kiss up to, is actually just someone I've hired to play the part. I'm the actual scion here, whereas Celia is just a fake heiress.

Sie versteckt sich hinter hässlichen Anzügen und einem falschen Namen. Er hat aufgehört, Frauen zu vertrauen. Seit achtzehn Monaten liefern sie sich bei Taylor Industries erbitterte Machtkämpfe über Übernahmen und Risiken. Für ihn ist sie Joy Smith – die unscheinbare, übervorsichtige CFO mit Perücke und formlosen Polyesteranzügen. Für sie ist er der arrogante CEO mit Gottkomplex. Was keiner von beiden weiß: Nachts begegnen sie sich woanders. Zu Hause ist Honey Johnson die vergessene Ehefrau eines untreuen Anwalts, der sie so lange nicht mehr berührt hat, dass sie beginnt zu glauben, sie sei kaputt. Als sie knallpinke Spitzenunterwäsche in ihrem Sofa findet – definitiv nicht ihre – fühlt sie keinen Herzschmerz. Sondern Erleichterung. Eine Nacht. Mehr will sie nicht. Eine Nacht im Velvet Room, Manhattans exklusivstem Maskenclub, um herauszufinden, ob sie wirklich frigide ist – oder einfach nie von den richtigen Händen berührt wurde. Sie erwartet nicht den maskierten Fremden, der sie vom ersten Moment an für sich beansprucht. Nicht die Chemie, die ihren Körper in Flammen setzt. Nicht die Orgasmen, die sie zittern lassen. Und ganz sicher nicht seine klare Anweisung: „Nur ich. Niemand sonst fasst dich an.“ Tagsüber zerreißen Joy und Grayson sich in Konferenzräumen. Nachts bauen Honey und ihr geheimnisvoller Sir etwas Gefährliches auf – über Nachrichten, Anrufe und geheime Freitage. Sie sagt ihm nicht, dass sie verheiratet ist. Er sagt ihr nicht, dass er Verlobte hat. Doch als ihre Scheidung eskaliert, seine Ex nach Rache greift und ihre getrennten Welten aufeinanderprallen, steht alles auf dem Spiel. Ist das, was sie im Dunkeln haben, stark genug für das Licht? Oder funktioniert es nur, solange sie Masken tragen?

Under my parents' request, I work as the finance officer in my childhood friend, Julius Sanford's company. But the moment he goes on a business trip, the new intern, Lizzie Dalton, rushes into my office and demands that I process her reimbursements. As I stare at the pile of receipts that come from luxury stores, all I feel is shock. "Lizzie, I can only use the company's funds to reimburse business expenses. Why are you asking me for reimbursements when all you did was buy clothes and bags of your own?" But as soon as my words fall, Lizzie splashes a cup of coffee at me instantly. "I'm the lady boss of this company! The company's funds are my funds too! Don't think you can just reject my receipts just because you know my husband!" I do my best to suppress my fury as I dig out the company's policy and reiterate, "No, I seriously cannot do that. The company's cash flow must be reflected in the books." Seeing as I refuse to yield to her no matter what, Lizzie calls Julius on the phone and begins whining to him. "Babe, since when do I need to ask your childhood friend for approval if I want to buy something I like for myself? Or could it be that she's acting so assertively because you two are secretly having an affair?" Julius panics and tells Lizzie that he has nothing to do with me. After that, he quickly releases an announcement on the company group just so he can defend Lizzie. "Lizzie Dalton is my wife! She's the second boss of this company other than me!" After that, Julius tags me in the group. "Hey, finance! You're not my mom here! I don't like you, so please stay out of my private matters! "I'd like nothing more than to let my own wife spend my own money! If you don't like that, you can pack up and leave!" Once Julius makes his stance clear, I change my tune and reimburse Lizzie the expenses she's claimed. But one week later, Julius finds himself staring at the list of debts that's 33 feet long when he returns from his business trip.