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Nysaa's voice dripped with sarcasm as she pushed the plate away, her hangover now slightly forgotten in the heat of their argument. "Oh, yes, Dr. Ruiz. I'm sure Mace Sinclair is just a misunderstood millionaire with a heart of gold, who saved me from my drunken escapades out of pure benevolence." Dr. Ruiz chuckled. "You're being a tad harsh, don't you think? Perhaps he's not as bad as you paint him." Nysaa crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You know, it's quite impressive how you can't see his arrogant exterior. The man oozes superiority."

The protagonists of the live broadcast were none other than me and Heather. In the lower right corner, there was even a prize quiz with the title 'Will the well-known entrepreneur betray his wife?' The prize money had already reached 200,000 dollars. On the public screen, luxury cars kept scrolling past, and various gifts kept appearing. I was stunned. It felt like I had become a tool for the couple to make money. It was as if I had woken up from a dream. I asked her, "What does this mean?" She was also slightly stunned. Perhaps she did not expect me to find the camera. But then she unbuttoned the dress and approached me step by step. "Don't you want to know about Leanne? I will tell you the

Training montages are a scam. In films, someone ties their hair back, does three push-ups, punches a bag, runs up some stairs, and emerges ninety seconds later with cheekbones, discipline, and the ability to roundhouse-kick emotional damage into a sunset. Maya gets shin splints. She also gets a bruise on her hip the size of a mango, a blister under her left big toe, and a level of hatred for burpees that feels personal enough to require legal mediation.