Chapter 5: Blurred Lines

Tyler looked at me like he wanted to tear me apart. "Emily, don’t even think about it!"

Ms. Martinez was indignant: "Don’t even think about it—how can you treat Tony like this!"

"How can you abandon Tony! You shameless woman!"

"I have Tony’s hot Calvin Klein underwear photos, exclusive, 1080p."

Ms. Martinez was shaken.

"I don’t ask for much, just want to wash my hair." I grinned.

"The files are in my cloud drive, password is eight repeated six times."

While Ms. Martinez was busy on her computer, I took the chance to give Tyler some advice.

"Boss, I have an idea."

"We can play along, lull her into complacency."

"You play the invalid; she likes you so much, she won’t want her idol to suffer."

"When she took me to the bathroom to wash my hair, I saw the side bedroom has a window—it’s not sealed."

Tyler had mixed feelings about me. But now, I was his only ally. He jabbed, "Thanks for betraying your comrade."

"I thought you only liked reading webnovels about billionaire harems. Didn’t expect you to come up with something this devious." He wasn’t wrong about my reading list, but I pretended not to hear the sarcasm, thanking him for his ‘praise.’

He was helpless against me.

Ms. Martinez kept taking pictures, delighted.

"Tony, you even eat so manly."

I burst out laughing. "Tony’s manliest moments aren’t when he’s eating."

Ms. Martinez glared. "What do you mean!"

Tyler looked at me, half-smiling, his eyes indulgent, radiating hormones.

"Tony likes eating sunny-side-up eggs."

"He likes orange soda in the morning, prefers 100% cotton briefs—"

Ms. Martinez was thrown into chaos. "You, you’re lying—how do you know so much!"

"I don’t believe it! What’s your relationship with Tony!"

I said, "I’m actually his secret girlfriend."

Ms. Martinez screamed, "I don’t believe it! Google says he likes girls with oval faces, long straight hair!"

"And beauties over 5’6!"

I barely check the ‘female’ box, but I puffed out my chest. "Tastes change."

Ms. Martinez wailed.

She couldn’t stand her beloved idol being with an ordinary girl like me.

She yanked my short hair and dragged me to the bathroom, slamming the door—tiles cold under my knees.

I’d successfully drawn her anger away from Tyler.

Of course, escaping wasn’t my real goal.

What I wanted was for Tyler to fall in love with me.

Normally, that would be impossible, but in extreme situations, people bond easily—trauma bonding, psychologists call it.

Wanting to depend on each other, to find warmth, is human nature.

Tyler, after too many muscle relaxant injections, had a bad reaction.

He got a high fever, eyelids heavy, coughing non-stop like he had pneumonia.

He rested his head on my lap, and I kept patting his back.

"Hang in there, it’ll pass. I’m here."

His skin was fire-hot—hospital hot. He was burning up, constantly repeating my name: "Emily, I’m so cold."

He wasn’t stupid—he knew I pretended to be his girlfriend to distract Ms. Martinez and buy him time to rest.

He was a total germaphobe.

When I was his assistant, I couldn’t even touch him.

But now, he clung to me, refusing to let go.

When Mom took us away, my sister and I held hands like this too.

With all our strength.