“She’s seriously that ugly, but hey, her figure’s not bad. Probably good at having kids.”

The man facing Claire Rivers wasn’t tall, and he was staring at her with those creepy, squinty eyes like she was some kind of product.

This plan was a total fail.

Claire had deliberately dotted fake acne on her face, hoping to scare off the blind date her family forced on her. Who knew the guy would be this thirsty and completely immune to looks?

She stayed quiet, calmly sipping the coffee in front of her. At least the fancy restaurant had decent taste.

Thinking she was accepting the setup, the man kept going, “I’ll pay to fix your face. Once it looks normal, we’ll get intimate. If you give me a son, we’ll get the papers done. If not, I’ll just keep you on the side…”

Claire clenched the handle of her cup, taking a few deep breaths. She really had to hold herself back from throwing her drink in his face.

Just then, a man rolled in from across the restaurant—though in a wheelchair, he still carried a strong presence.

He was absurdly handsome. Claire couldn’t help but stare.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

The guy across from her followed her gaze and immediately got irked.

“Who’re you looking at? That cripple? Not even half as good-looking as me! What a shallow—”

Before he could continue, Claire finally cut in.

“Sorry, but I’m out. I’ve already found someone I love.”

She stood, stepped in front of the wheelchair just as the man was about to pass, then cupped his face and kissed him.

Kiva Wyatt didn’t expect someone to pull such a bold move on him.

What shocked him even more was that, despite his allergy to skin contact with women, he felt nothing this time.

The kiss was quick. He caught a whiff of freesia, and then it was over.

“You—you—slut! You’ll regret this!”

Without a shot at saving face, the blind date guy slammed his cup and stormed off, completely losing it.

Finally venting her anger, Claire felt amazing. She turned, meaning to apologize to the poor stranger... only to find he’d vanished.

…

Claire skipped dinner and went straight home. Walking into the dining room, she saw the aftermath of a feast—plates stacked, table messy, the others had clearly finished.

“Huh? Weren’t you at a date?” Serena Rivers pulled out a chair for her. “Didn’t he take you out to eat?”

She gave a sweet smile while her eyes sparkled with a smug gleam. “Too bad you weren’t here. I placed third in the piano competition, and Mom had Mrs. Lee cook a big dinner to celebrate!”

Claire looked at the table—lobster shells, empty abalone plates, steak bones—it’d been a luxury feast.

She curled her lips in a sneer. Back when she lived at home, none of these dishes ever made an appearance.

Just then, James Rivers came back in, having taken a call outside.

“Claire! What’s with that insane look of yours?” he snapped, eyes wide with rage.

“You seriously showed up to a date looking like that? No wonder Mr. Hu just called me yelling, saying we clearly don’t take this match seriously!”

Lydia Marsh jumped in, flustered. “That’s your childhood engagement! He’s Hu Group’s main investor—if you don’t marry him and he pulls out, what happens to our company? Claire, you’re being selfish! You’d risk the whole Rivers Group for yourself?”

“If it was such an important match, why not send my sister? She reaped eighteen years of perks as the Rivers heiress; now that there’s a downside, why dump it on me?”

Claire’s tone was sharp, and she didn’t hold back a single blow."Claire, how could you say something like that?" Serena sniffled, eyes glossy like she'd been deeply wronged.

Lydia instantly bristled when she saw Claire snap at Serena.

"Serena’s amazing—of course people are lining up for her. Unlike you. No skills, nothing going for you, and yet you think marrying rich is beneath you? You should be grateful someone even shows interest!"

Every word was loaded with disdain.

Claire’s face turned pale.

Right. These were her biological parents.

She’d been switched at birth and lost for eighteen years, and when she finally came home? No sympathy, no guilt—just endless ridicule.

What exactly had she been holding out for?

"Ma’am, should I prepare another plate for Miss Claire?" Auntie Li, who was cleaning up, quietly asked when she noticed Claire hadn’t touched her food.

“Feed her? The nerve! Just warm up yesterday’s scraps if she’s that hungry,” Lydia snapped.

"No, thank you, Auntie Li." Claire stood up and headed straight for the door.

"It’s late! Where do you think you’re going? If you dare walk out that door tonight, don’t bother coming back!" James yelled behind her.

She didn’t even flinch, just walked off without turning around.

...

Claire went back to the same restaurant she’d visited earlier that day and splurged the last bit of her paycheck on a whole table of comfort food.

"Yep, good food really does heal the soul."

After eating to her heart's content, she went to the restroom to remove the fake freckles from her face, then got into the elevator to go downstairs.

"You?"

Claire blurted out in shock when she saw the guy in the wheelchair. She was so stunned, she didn’t even register that the elevator wasn’t going down.

Something seemed off. His skin was flushed, but the veins on his neck were popping.

"Are you okay?" She reached toward his forehead to check for a fever.

But before she could touch him, he grabbed her wrist. Then, with a quick tug, she fell right into his arms.

Kiva instantly recognized her—that was the girl who’d kissed him earlier today.

So the freckles were fake. She’d been cute with them, but now, seeing her real face up close, he was genuinely stunned.

Yup. This is the one.

He held the back of her head and kissed her, no hesitation.

“Mm—!”

Claire hadn’t even processed what was happening before he completely stole her breath away.

And—wait—was that his tongue!?

She started struggling hard, but he knocked her out with a swift palm to the back of her neck.

...

Claire came to slowly, groggy and confused, only to realize her button-down was hanging loosely off her shoulders.

A scorching hot hand was firmly gripping her waist, her body plastered against a bare, burning chest. The heat of his skin was enough to melt her.

Their eyes met—him, in the wheelchair.

He looked like he wasn’t even thirty yet. His features were razor-sharp and almost unreal—the kind of face prettier than movie stars. But those thin, cold lips gave him an aloof edge that made people think twice about getting close.

His ink-dark eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, she felt like prey caught in a predator’s sights.

“W-what do you want?” Her voice trembled.

“You stole my first kiss. Gotta take responsibility for that,” Kiva leaned in close, his whisper low and husky.

“What?” Claire blinked, thinking she’d misheard. “How exactly do you want me to take responsibility?”

"Marry me," Kiva said simply.

Before she could say another word, his lips crashed onto hers again—and that shirt? Gone in an instant.

Just before everything went black for her again, Claire’s gaze latched onto the blinding chandelier above.