Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, my life fell into a strict routine.

Every morning, I would put on my workout clothes and jog around the neighborhood.

Running in this 250-pound body was incredibly difficult; my lungs often wheezed like a bellows, but I didn't stop.

I spent almost all of my remaining time holed up in the campus library, researching and focusing on my journalism senior capstone project.

Even though Maya and her followers targeted me on campus every day—pouring water on my chair or intentionally knocking my books out of my hands in the hallway—I never paid them any mind.

I just silently counted down the days on the calendar.

Based on the frequency I used to be forced to take medication, the body that belonged to "Chloe" was just about to hit the point of severe drug withdrawal.

Meanwhile, to further solidify her status as a socialite, Maya not only squandered the numbers in my bank account but also directly rented a three-story luxury yacht to host a ridiculously lavish weekend party.

I had absolutely no intention of attending such a loud and pointless gathering, but on Friday evening, two of Maya's minions stopped me in the parking lot.

They waved a silver external hard drive in their hands. It contained all the core investigative research for my senior graduation project.

They bluntly threatened that if I didn't show up on the yacht tonight, everything on the drive would be completely formatted on the spot.

The hard drive housed gigabytes of raw interview footage and audio recordings. I had worked incredibly hard to capture them, and because the files were too massive to back up to the cloud, they only existed on that drive.

I knew exactly why Maya insisted on my attendance: her script needed a loser. She was convinced my recent indifference was all an act.

She was desperate to see me drop to my knees and bawl my eyes out, or angrily curse at her in tears. She would only be satisfied if she saw me make such an ugly scene.

But to get my hard work back, I had no choice but to take a cab to the marina and board the yacht against the ocean breeze.

The deck was crowded with gorgeously dressed young people holding champagne flutes.

Maya was at the center of the crowd, wearing a custom sequined gown with pitifully little fabric.

Seeing me walk over in my baggy old tracksuit, Maya immediately set down her champagne glass and intentionally raised her voice to shout, "Make way, everyone! Careful not to capsize the boat, we've just got a 250-pound heavyweight guest on board."

The chatter stopped, and everyone's eyes focused on me.

Maya made no effort to hide her disgust. She looked me up and down and sneered, "I didn't enforce a dress code, but what is up with that dull tracksuit? It looks like you're wearing a giant gray trash bag. Even if you want to cover up those layers upon layers of thick fat on your stomach, you could at least pick something decent, right? Oh, sorry, my bad. There probably isn't a dress in any store that could fit your wide, shapeless frame."

The guys and girls on the deck obediently erupted into fits of laughter, and some even whistled to egg her on.

Maya stood squarely in the center, absolutely basking in their worship, her face glowing with a sense of superiority.

Stepping out of the shadows, I silently endured the barbed mockery and walked straight up to her. "I came like you asked. Give me my project back."

Maya looked me over again and suddenly let out a sharp, grating laugh.

She took the silver hard drive from the minion standing next to her, casually twirling it by its edges.

"I really don't get you. You're clearly on the brink of tears, so why are you still acting like you don't care?"

I stared back at her. "I'm not crying."

She gave a cold chuckle, leaned in close, and whispered in a tone only the two of us could hear, "Seeing me enjoy everything that was yours... you really want to kill me right now, don't you? I love seeing you like this. If you get down on your knees right now, I'll give your data back."

I met her gaze firmly. "Not a chance."

The very next second, right in front of everyone, she whipped her arm back and hurled the hard drive containing all my academic work straight into the dark, churning ocean.

Hearing the splash, she smiled even more triumphantly.

I lunged at the railing, watching the past several days of my heart and soul sink to the bottom of the sea.

Very well. Now, I truly did hate her guts.

The party lasted late into the night. The revelers gradually dispersed, and the yacht slowly docked.

The marina was quiet in the dead of night. I stood alone on the outer deck, staring at the pitch-black water, feeling an uncontrollable wave of frustration.

Because of these lost files, my senior project would likely have to be delayed.

Just then, the sound of steady footsteps came from behind the cabin door.

Liam stepped out and walked right up beside me.

He didn't ask anything; he simply pulled a hard drive from his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

"Don't worry," he said gently, looking into my eyes. "These past few days at the library, you always sat diagonally across from me. I saw how hard you were working. When those girls unplugged your portable drive in the computer lab this afternoon, I was right there, so I secretly swapped yours out with my own."

I took it in surprise, looked at the drive in my hand, and then looked back up at him. The ocean breeze fluttered the flags strung along the railing. I couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you worried that people from school will see you standing here with me and laugh at you?"

Liam leaned against the metal railing, gazing out at the sea, and countered, "So who do you think I should be standing with? Chloe?"

Mentioning my original name, he gave an indifferent shrug. "A lot of people at school gossip that we're a couple, but in reality, we only had some basic data exchanges when we worked on group projects. As for her... I've always felt like she wore a fake, perfect mask all the time. Sometimes, I've even wanted to go up to her and ask if she doesn't get exhausted living like that every day."

My heart skipped a beat. For so many years, countless people liked me—in real life and online—but what they liked was the version of me my mother had packaged and sold. No one knew the real me; even I had nearly forgotten what she looked like.

I was so used to wearing that mask that everyone mistook it for my real face. But Liam saw right through it.

"Actually, I used to wonder what was really underneath her mask," Liam said, turning his head to look earnestly at my current face. "But you're different. You’re incredibly real."

At that precise moment, inside the Beverly Hills mansion, Maya pushed open the front door in her expensive high heels, reeking of alcohol after the party.

She returned to the familiar bedroom, collapsed onto the massive, soft bed, and closed her eyes in pure satisfaction.

However, barely halfway through the night, a violent surge of agony snapped her awake.

In absolute panic, Maya tumbled off the mattress onto the floor, rolling around in agony on the premium wool rug.

Amidst the tearing pain, Maya’s eyes widened in sheer shock.

She finally realized the reality of her situation—Chloe’s body had a severe drug addiction!

Right as she convulsed uncontrollably, the door clicked open, and Chloe’s mother walked in, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor.