My Online Girlfriend Humiliated Me, So I Chose the Heiress

The day before I was supposed to meet my online girlfriend in person, she sent me a group photo. “Babe, guess which one is me?” Several gorgeous women were in the picture, each with a completely different vibe. I was just about to zoom in when a few translucent comments suddenly floated across my vision. ‘LMAO, this girl is ruthless. She dug up an old photo of the male lead from high school when he weighed over two hundred pounds, decided he was ugly, and now she's still pretending to be madly in love with him!’ ‘And just so she doesn't have to be the bad guy, she deliberately sent him a photo she's not even in and made him choose blindly. That's cold.’ ‘Right? She's literally making a bet with her friends. Whoever he picks from the photo has to pretend to be his girlfriend.’ My hand stilled around my phone. The comments kept appearing. ‘She definitely has no idea the male lead is ripped now. Eight-pack abs, insanely handsome. His own mother would barely recognize him.’ ‘Can't wait for tomorrow when she sees how hot he is and instantly regrets everything. She's gonna be begging for him back.’ I looked away from the floating comments and back at the photo. The corner of my mouth lifted. A gorgeous girlfriend was practically being handed to me for free. Why would I say no? I cropped out the girl sitting in the middle, the most eye-catching one in the entire photo, and sent it back to her. “I’m guessing this is you. Am I right?” It took her half a minute to reply with a single word. “Yeah.” My fingers tapped lightly against the screen. Then I slowly typed out another message. “Then don't be late tomorrow, my dear girlfriend.” Chapter 1 Chloe Zimmerman didn't reply. But the translucent comments in front of me immediately blew up. ‘Holy crap! He picked Yara Henderson! Chloe must be freaking out right now!’ ‘I'm dying. She was hoping he'd pick the least attractive girl in the photo, and instead he went straight for the heiress from one of the most powerful families in the city?’ ‘Chloe seriously expects Yara to take her place? She wouldn't dare ask her in a million years!’ I picked up the black coffee on my desk and took a sip. The bitterness slid down my throat. Yara Henderson. Her name kept appearing in the comments. My gaze returned to the cropped photo on my phone. The girl I'd chosen sat in the middle of a wide leather couch in a simple black dress. She was effortlessly striking. Even in a still photo, she seemed detached from everything around her, her eyes lowered as if none of it could hold her interest. Then there was Chloe. We'd met through an online game two years ago. She was always checking in on me, staying up late to grind ranked matches together, and gifting me expensive in-game cosmetics. Back then, I'd been sick and taking medication that caused my weight to shoot past two hundred pounds. My confidence had hit rock bottom. It was Chloe calling me “babe” and “baby” over voice chat night after night that pulled me back from the edge of depression. We'd been dating online for two years. She'd asked to meet in person countless times. I'd always found some excuse to put it off. Then, six months ago, I finally recovered. I practically lived at the gym after that, dropping the excess weight and rebuilding my body until I barely looked like the same person. I'd planned to surprise her. Instead, she surprised me first. I set down my coffee and scrolled through my contacts. My last conversation with Ethan Peterson had been a month ago. I'd sent him an old photo of myself from high school. He was the mutual friend who had originally invited me to Chloe's gaming group. And apparently, he was also the one who'd taken a photo of me at my lowest and turned it into entertainment for everyone else. As if to confirm my suspicions, several new comments appeared. ‘Ethan is such a snake. He deliberately sent Chloe that old photo, then kept stirring the pot!’ ‘Chloe almost threw up when she saw it. Then she immediately planned this huge meetup so she could humiliate him in front of everyone!’ ‘They're meeting at Polaris tomorrow. Ethan even bought this huge, ugly ripped-up coat and plans to make him wear it in front of the whole crowd!’ I stared at the blue words floating in midair. Then I picked up the box cutter on the desk. The blade pressed against the stem of a dried rose. Slice. The brittle flower fell apart, scattering petals across the desk. Two years of an online relationship. And apparently, the whole thing had been nothing more than a cheap joke built on lies. I searched for Polaris and pulled up its location. Just then, my phone started vibrating. A voice message from Chloe. “Babe, tomorrow night at eight. I booked out Polaris for us. “I've planned a very special first meeting, so make sure you look your best.” Another message came through immediately. “Babe, I've invited all my friends too. You're not going to chicken out at the last second and embarrass me, are you?” My fingers moved quickly across the screen. “Of course not. I'll be there right on time!” I hit send, tossed my phone onto the couch, and walked into my closet. I slid open the wardrobe doors. Rows of fitted shirts, jackets, and polished shoes lined the shelves. My gaze settled on a black dress shirt. I pulled it out and held it against myself. The fabric stretched neatly across my broad shoulders before tapering down toward my lean waist. The man staring back at me from the mirror had a sharp jawline, deep-set eyes, and features that bore almost no resemblance to the overweight teenager in that old photo. That oversized ugly coat? Ethan could wear it himself. Chapter 2 The next evening, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and carefully styled my hair. Right on cue, the translucent comments appeared again, giving me a perfect live feed of what was happening at Polaris. Chloe had already started streaming everything to the massive group chat she shared with hundreds of gaming friends. ‘Holy shit, Chloe really went all out! This isn't a first date. It's a public execution!’ ‘Ethan printed that old photo of him at over two hundred pounds on a huge welcome board and put it right by the entrance! I'm dead!’ ‘And look at that disgusting bowl of slop they made as a special dinner for “Big Guy.”’ ‘That ugly coat plus the pig slop? They're really trying to destroy him tonight!’ A few saner comments appeared every now and then, only to get buried almost instantly. ‘This is hilarious. A bunch of idiots celebrating early. Let's see who's laughing in a minute.’ ‘You people seriously have no idea what Pumpkin looks like now...’ ‘Everyone talking shit better get ready to pick their jaws up off the floor.’ I adjusted my cuffs and fastened a silver watch around my wrist. At the door, I slipped into a pair of black dress shoes. Then I stepped outside. The night breeze carried the noise of the city toward me. I got into a cab. Neon lights streaked past the window as we drove. My phone lit up with the livestream from the group chat. The camera swept across a dimly lit VIP booth. Chloe laughed into the phone. “All my girls are dying to meet my boyfriend.” In the background, gaming friends who had once practically worshipped me weren't even trying to hide their mockery. “Chloe, where's your two-hundred-pound internet boyfriend? Isn't he here yet?” Then Ethan's exaggerated voice came through loud and clear. “Come on, don't rush Pumpkin. He probably needs extra time to get dressed.” He paused dramatically. “Gotta hide all that weight somehow.” Laughter erupted throughout the booth. I muted my phone and slipped it into my pocket. Half an hour later, the cab stopped outside Polaris. It sat in the heart of the city's busiest nightlife district, with luxury cars lining the curb. Tonight, however, red velvet ropes blocked off the entrance. Two rows of security guards stood outside, turning away anyone who wasn't on the guest list. And right beside the doors stood a huge welcome board. The boy in the photo wore an oversized high school uniform. His face was round. His head was lowered. He looked awkward and painfully self-conscious. Beside the picture, huge black letters read: ‘WELCOME, PUMPKIN! 200 POUNDS OF PURE ROMANCE!’ People passing by pointed at it. Some even stopped to take pictures. I stood across the street and quietly watched. The comments went wild. ‘AHHHHH HE'S HERE! GO KICK THAT THING DOWN!’ ‘Chloe and everyone else are livestreaming from the second-floor terrace!’ ‘Yara's there too! But she's been drinking by herself in the corner. She hasn't even bothered talking to Chloe.’ ‘Obviously. Chloe practically begged her to come last night, saying there'd be a hilarious show. Otherwise someone like Yara wouldn't waste her time at a party like this.’ I looked up toward the semi-open VIP section on the second floor. It was too far away to make out anyone's face. I could only see several figures leaning over the railing, looking down. I took a pair of oversized sunglasses from my pocket and put them on. Then I headed for the entrance. My black dress shoes struck the pavement with steady, unhurried steps. One of the security guards immediately held out an arm. “Sorry, sir. Polaris is closed for a private event tonight.” I removed my sunglasses and looked him straight in the eye. “I'm here for Chloe Zimmerman.” The guard froze. His eyes lingered on my face, then dropped briefly to my clothes. His tone immediately became more polite. “Are you one of Ms. Zimmerman's guests?” “Tell her Pumpkin's here.” The guard went completely still. His eyes widened. He turned to look at the overweight boy on the welcome board. Then slowly looked back at me. His Adam's apple bobbed. I ignored him. I ducked under the velvet rope and walked straight toward the board. Then I lifted one leg and kicked the metal frame without hesitation. Crash! The six-foot display slammed onto the ground. The livestream comments immediately filled with question marks. ‘WHAT THE HELL?! THOSE LEGS! THAT BODY! WHO IS THIS GUY? DID SOME MODEL WALK INTO THE WRONG PARTY?’ ‘That kick was ridiculously hot. I don't even care who he is. I'm a fan.’ ‘LMAO Chloe, did you piss off the wrong person? This dude looks like he came here to wreck the place.’ ‘Wait. Did Pumpkin send some insanely hot friend to get revenge for him?’ Chapter 3 I lowered my leg, smoothed the front of my shirt, and pushed open the heavy glass doors. Deafening heavy metal blasted around me. The first floor was empty. No customers. Just laser lights cutting through the dark. Upstairs, though, the VIP section was in full swing. I started up the metal spiral staircase, one step at a time. “Chloe, is your online boyfriend actually coming or not? I'm starving.” “Seriously. Maybe he saw the welcome board and ran home crying.” Chloe's friends burst out laughing. Then Ethan's overly eager voice cut through the noise. “Come on, don't be so mean to Pumpkin. Sure, he's a little heavy, but he's really good at the game.” “Oh, please, Ethan. You're way too nice.” Someone laughed. “Chloe, if he actually shows up, are you seriously going to honor the bet and dump him on Yara?” The group went strangely quiet for two seconds. Then Chloe spoke, her tone suddenly ingratiating. “Are you kidding? You think Yara would ever go for someone like him? “He picked her picture himself. That's his problem for aiming way out of his league. “When he gets here, I'm throwing that ugly coat over his head and making sure he gets a good look at himself.” The cheering and clinking glasses started up again. By then, I'd reached the top step. From where I stood, I could see the entire booth. Chloe sat in the middle, swirling a drink in one hand, her makeup flawless. Ethan wore a fitted shirt and was practically draped over her. At the edge of the booth sat the ugliest oversized green military-style coat I'd ever seen. Beside it was a metal bowl filled with a disgusting mix of leftovers. And farther away from all those ridiculous props sat one woman alone in an armchair. A minimalist black satin dress skimmed her tall, elegant figure. The room around her was loud and chaotic. She didn't seem to care. Her eyes stayed lowered as she lazily swirled the whiskey in her glass, not bothering to spare Chloe even a glance. Ice tapped softly against the glass. Clear. Sharp. Almost strangely distinct beneath all the noise. The gorgeous woman from the group photo. Yara Henderson. The floating comments went crazy. ‘IT'S ALMOST TIME! WATCH THE LIVESTREAM!’ ‘I'm dying. These assholes are still making fun of him. Hurry up and go shut them up!’ ‘HE'S HERE! THIS IS IT!’ Chloe was holding up her phone now, hyping up the livestream. “Ladies! It's eight o'clock!” She grinned at the camera. “Let's count down! “Ten! Nine! Eight... “Three! Two! One! “Time's up!” She burst out laughing. “Looks like Fat Boy got scared and chickened out!” The booth erupted. So did the livestream comments. I slipped my sunglasses into my pocket and took a slow breath. Then I raised my foot. And kicked open the glass door to the VIP section. Crash! The impact echoed through the entire floor. The DJ froze. Then the heavy metal cut off abruptly. Every laser beam seemed to stop at once, all of them converging on me. My black shirt stretched cleanly across broad shoulders and tapered down to a narrow waist. I looked straight at them. The entire room went silent. Even the livestream comments seemed to stop for a beat. Only Yara, sitting in the corner, moved. A cube of ice struck the side of her glass with a crisp clink. Light fractured through the bottom of the tumbler and briefly lit her eyes. I walked toward them. One step. Then another. My dress shoes struck the floor as I stopped in front of their table. I looked directly at Chloe. “So.” My voice was calm. “What exactly were you planning to make me see?”