"You're awake."
Nathan's voice was calm, emotionless.
Mary immediately stood, her movements careful, almost fragile. Tears welled in her eyes as she walked toward him, stopping just short of touching distance.
"They bullied me," she said softly, her voice trembling at just the right places. "I tried to explain. I really did. But no one listened."
She reached for his hand.
Nathan stepped back before her fingers could brush his sleeve.
"I heard you were fired," he said, turning away as he walked toward the chair by the window and sat down, crossing his legs with quiet authority.
Mary's lips trembled. "Your father did it. I didn't want to make things worse, so I left quietly." She lowered her gaze, then added carefully, "I went to your house to explain to your children that the news online was false… but it seems they already hate me."
Nathan finally looked at her.
For a moment, Mary thought she saw concern.
Then he spoke.
"So," Nathan said evenly, "my family wronged you."
Mary nodded, biting her lip.
"Then I'll make it up to you."
Her breath caught.
"I'll promote you," Nathan continued, as if discussing the weather. "Head of department at one of the side branches. You'll oversee the new tech project."
Mary's eyes widened.
"This project will attract attention," he added. "Handled well, it will raise your status. No one will dare look down on you again."
He slid a document folder across the table.
Mary stared at it, stunned.
"I believe in your ability," Nathan said, standing. He took her hand briefly—just long enough to feel real, just short enough to remain distant. "Don't disappoint me."
Then he walked past her, straight into his room.
The door closed softly.
Inside, Nathan pulled a tissue from the box and wiped his hand thoroughly before dropping it into the trash.
"Keep eyes on her," he said calmly.
John stood by the door. "Chen Yulan won't resist this project."
"He won't," Nathan replied. "That's why it's bait."
John nodded.
---
Mary remained frozen in the living room long after Nathan left.
Her heart raced violently.
He trusts me.
Her lips curved into a trembling smile.
He touched me.
Pride bloomed, swelling until it drowned out every warning instinct she should have listened to.
She left the golf villa in a daze.
That night, in her apartment, Mary poured herself a glass of wine. Then another.
"Very soon," she laughed softly to herself, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, "I'll be Mrs. Mary Nathan Carter."
The wine burned warmly down her throat.
She drank until she slept.
The next morning, dressed impeccably, Mary stepped out of her building, ready to report to the branch company.
A car stopped beside her.
She stiffened.
Mary clenched her fists and kept walking.
The car rolled forward smoothly, matching her pace.
"Get in," Chen Yulan said through the lowered window, his voice low. "Unless you want Nathan to find out you're a spy."
Mary stopped.
Slowly, she turned.
Her jaw tightened—but she opened the door and entered.
The car drove off.
Neither of them noticed the black vehicle that pulled out quietly behind them.
"I can't believe today is the stupid school camping trip," Prim complained, leaning back against the limo seat. "I wanted to sleep."
"I texted you the schedule," Ava replied flatly, eyes still on her phone.
"Since when do I read your messages?" Prim said, glancing sideways at her.
The limo slowed to a stop at the school gate. Ahead, rows of school buses waited, engines already running, students crowding around with bags and loud voices.
As Prim and Ava stepped out, the sound of a roaring engine came from behind them.
"I swear to God," Prim muttered, not even turning around, "I'm going to kill Milo."
A red sports car pulled in sharply and stopped.
Daisy jumped out first, slamming the door before sprinting toward Ava. "You drove straight here?" she scolded loudly. "So who's parking the car, genius? You expect it to walk itself to the garage?"
She hugged Ava tightly, then glanced at Prim. "Huh."
Milo stepped out next, completely unbothered. "That sounds like a personal problem," he said lazily, tossing the car keys to a junior nearby. "Park it in the school garage."
The junior nodded and ran off.
A teacher stood near the buses, clipboard in hand, already looking exhausted. "Seven buses. Seven classes. Each class gets one bus—"
Before he could finish, students began boarding whichever bus they wanted.
The teacher sighed. "Fine. Do whatever you like. This is your only chance to be rude in public," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Prim, Ava, Milo, and Daisy boarded the last bus and took the back seats where their usual group gathered.
Moments later, the junior returned Milo's keys and disappeared into the crowd.
"Where are Daniel and Michael?" Milo asked.
One of the boys pointed forward.
Daniel and Michael had just boarded. Michael's expression was dark as he dropped into a seat near the back, arms crossed.
"What happened?" Prim asked.
Michael didn't answer.
"He's mad," Daniel said calmly, pulling out his phone, "because I refused to pick up his date on the way here."
"You're dating again?" Milo asked, surprised.
Michael rolled his eyes. "I never said I quit permanently."
Before anyone could reply, Vera stepped onto the bus. She hesitated briefly when she saw them, then took a seat nearby.
Prim glanced at her once—then closed his eyes, placing his book over his face.
Vera lowered her gaze.
A few seconds later, a girl with strawberry-blonde hair climbed aboard.
"Winter!" Michael called out, instantly brightening. "Over here!"
She smiled and walked toward him.
"Shift," Michael whispered, poking Daniel's waist, trying to make room.
Daniel ignored him completely.
Michael clicked his tongue and stood up. "You two—move. Take my seat."
The two boys with dyed hair laughed. "Wow, man's serious about his girl," they teased as they switched seats.
Winter sat beside Michael, smiling shyly.
"This is Winter," Michael said, gesturing around. "Exchange student."
He pointed casually. "Prim, Ava, Daisy, Milo, Daniel, Vera, Sophia, Madison, Olivia, William, Thomas, Logan, Philip, Bella, Frank, Solomon."
Winter nodded politely and waved.
Prim didn't respond, his book still covering his face.
Ava had her earphones in, staring out the window.
Daniel scrolled through his phone.
Vera glanced at Winter briefly, then turned away, her two friends—Madison and Olivia—following suit.
The rest of the bus filled with chatter, laughter, and the sound of bags shifting.
One by one, the seven buses pulled out of the school compound.
The camping trip had officially begun.
The bus ride stretched into its third hour.
Conversations rose and fell like waves inside the fifth bus. Some students leaned across seats, laughing loudly over inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else. A group near the middle argued about snacks—who finished whose chips, who still owed who a drink. Someone at the back played music without earphones until a teacher barked at them to turn it down.
Laughter. Groans. The rustle of plastic bags.
The steady hum of the road beneath the wheels.
Asher sat by the window, one earbud in, thumb moving quickly over his phone screen as he played a game. His posture was relaxed, shoulders slightly hunched, attention locked in. Outside, trees blurred past, the scenery changing from city outskirts to long stretches of green.
He felt it before he saw it.
A gaze.
Asher paused the game and turned his head.
A girl stood beside his seat, clutching a small paper bag. She wore glasses that slid slightly down her nose, her fingers fidgeting around the handle of the bag.
"I… I like how you play that game," she said quickly, then winced. "Sorry if I'm making you feel weird."
Asher shook his head once, neutral, and looked back at his screen.
The girl hesitated, then held out the bag. "I brought extra."
Inside was toasted bread and a bottle of Coke.
Asher looked up again, surprised.
"For the umbrella," she added softly. "I know you probably forgot, but three days ago—when it was raining—you gave me yours and walked home in the rain."
His fingers stilled.
He took the bag. "Thanks."
She smiled, cheeks warming as she watched him take a bite. "I heard you joined the city competition," she said carefully. "You must be really smart."
Asher paused mid-chew.
For a second, it looked like he might say something—but he didn't. He swallowed, eyes returning to his phone, expression unreadable as the game resumed.
The girl lingered, then quietly stepped away, blending back into the sea of students.
Not long after, the bus slowed.
One by one, students leaned forward, peering out the windows as the lodge came into view. The bus doors opened, and the noise spilled out with everyone as they climbed down, stretching stiff legs, adjusting bags.
A teacher raised his voice.
"Alright, listen up."
The chatter gradually died down.
"This camping trip lasts three days," he continued. "Tonight, you'll be staying in the lodge. Tomorrow, we move into motorhomes prepared in the woods by the lodging staff. On the third day, you'll be staying in tents near the sea."
A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd.
"As for activities," the teacher went on, "this trip is about exploration, teamwork, and surviving without relying on your phones."
Groans followed.
"I said I won't confiscate them," he added dryly, "in case one of you decides to jump off a cliff or get lost."
That earned laughter.
"There are seven classes here—about one hundred and fifty students. You'll be divided into thirty teams, five people per team. To avoid anyone being left out, you'll draw papers from the jar. Same letters, same team."
He glanced pointedly at a few couples. "And rooms are limited. Two people per room. Boys on the lower floors, girls on the upper floors. Teachers will be supervising. This is not a honeymoon."
Ava stepped forward, already holding the jar as student president.
One by one, students reached in.
Michael, Prim, Vera, Oliver, and another boy ended up together.
Ava drew next—then Daisy, Asher, the girl with glasses, and Mia.
Daniel's team included Winter, Frank, Madison, and Solomon.
Names were checked. Teams confirmed.
As the students began moving toward the lodge entrance, Asher adjusted his earbud again, gaze briefly flicking toward his team before following the others inside.
The lodge gradually fell quiet as students disappeared into their assigned rooms.
Daniel and Michael's room was on the lower floor, facing the back of the lodge where tall trees pressed close to the windows. The room wasn't large, but it was comfortable—warm wooden floors, two neatly made single beds, a long desk beneath the window, and a faint scent of pine mixed with hotel detergent.
Steam curled lazily out of the bathroom as the door opened.
Daniel stepped out, a white towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water sliding down his collarbone and over the tattoos etched across his chest and upper arms. His golden-brown hair was damp, darker than usual, and he ran a towel through it while walking toward the bed.
Ocean-blue hooded eyes. Sharp jaw. Lean, athletic build that didn't look forced—just naturally dangerous in a quiet way.
If any girl were in the room, she'd be staring drolling.
Unfortunately for Daniel, it was Michael.
"Will you stop staring?" Daniel said without looking back. "You're putting holes in my spine."
Michael, sitting on his bed with his legs folded, froze mid–nail bite. "I wasn't—"
Daniel turned slightly, eyebrow lifting.
Michael cleared his throat. "Bro, can you—"
"No," Daniel cut in flatly, reaching for the hair dryer on the desk.
"I haven't even said anything yet," Michael protested, standing up. He walked over, took the dryer from Daniel's hand, and set it back on the dressing table with a little more force than necessary. "You're my friend, but why are you always like this? Every time I try something new, you shut it down and act all cold ."
Daniel tilted his head, tongue pressing briefly against his inner cheek. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm always like this."
"You're worse now," Michael said, frustration slipping through. "Just let me team up with Winter, okay?"
Daniel finally looked at him fully.
"No."
Michael groaned. "Why?"
"Because you always do this," Daniel replied calmly. "You get invested way too fast. Then it crashes, and guess who ends up being your emotional support pillow?"
Michael looked away. "You're exaggerating."
"I'm really not," Daniel said. "And Prim disappears the moment things get messy. I'm the one left cleaning up. Are you even sure she likes you?"
Michael rolled his eyes hard. "You don't have to stab me while I'm already bleeding. I just want to get to know her first. Then I'll ask her out properly. Just this once—do this for me."
He reached out and grabbed Daniel's wrist.
Daniel looked down at the hand on him, then calmly removed it.
"I'll think about it," he said. "But trust me—women don't like desperation. And right now, you smell like it."
Michael clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Daniel turned away and dropped onto the edge of his bed. "Come dry my hair."
Michael blinked. "…Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"Yes, sir," Michael muttered dramatically, grabbing the dryer and stepping closer. He started roughly at first.
"Be gentle," Daniel said immediately. "Are you trying to snap my neck? Is this the attitude you ask for favors with?"
Michael pouted but slowed his movements, fingers brushing Daniel's damp hair more carefully this time. The tension eased slightly, settling into something familiar—annoying, comfortable.