The night stardust poured through the windows, Dylan was shoved onto the stage to accept the "Celebrity Nanny of the Year" award by his agent. The crowd erupted in screams and cheers. He tugged at his tie and smirked at the cameras. "Do you really think I see these kids as human beings?" A stunned silence rippled through the audience—then applause exploded even louder. There was nothing more intoxicating than a beautiful madman baring his fangs. But no one knew that just three hours earlier, Lauren had gripped his wrist by the campfire, her eyes glistening. "Dylan… can you help me take this off? Just for a second." He froze, his fingertips burning. In that moment, he could hear nothing but his own heartbeat drowning out the crackle of flames. The zipper had barely slid down an inch when the tent flap burst open. A woman in a dark green gown stepped in, heels clicking against the ground. Her lips curled into a smile, but her eyes were sharp as knives. "Hands off. He's my fiancé." She hooked her arm through Dylan’s, dragging a fingernail across his palm. "Right, darling?" Lauren took half a step back. Said nothing. As she turned away, she caught her reflection in the changing room mirror—hair tangled, lips swollen, looking exactly like some shameful trophy. Late that night, she curled up in bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. A direct message from an unknown account popped up: 【Want to see the video?】 Attached was a blurry selfie—her head tilted back against Dylan’s shoulder, his hand gripping her waist so tightly his knuckles had gone white. She deleted it. Then opened it again. Repeated the cycle three times. Outside, rain began to fall. Her phone lit up one final time—a new text from Dylan: *That wasn't my fiancée. I hired her to play the part.* She stared at the screen—and suddenly laughed. Laughed until tears streamed down her face. This was supposed to be just a job. Now, she couldn't even fool herself anymore.