Chapter 4

It was two in the morning, and I was finishing up the last batch of emotional currency settlements. The only light in the room came from my computer screen.

Tobias pushed the door open, reeking of alcohol. He'd clearly just come back from some lavish victory party.

He didn't turn on the lights. Staggering behind me, he braced both hands on the desk, surrounding me with his presence.

The smell of booze and cigarettes hung thick in the cramped space.

"Stella, show me the accounts," he growled in my ear, his voice rough and low.

I moved the mouse and pulled up the Keith family's massive asset flows. The screen was awash with unsettling green figures, numbers jumping everywhere.

I said, "Look here, Mr. Rivas. This is your net profit for the week. 12 billion dollars.

"The Keith family's trust fund is toast. Their heir, Jonah Keith, is locked up in a psych ward now. He lost every last one of his core emotional memories."

I pointed to the corner of the screen. "That's what you paid for. See? Right there."

Tobias followed my finger to a piece of archived data. Beneath it was a tiny system note.

It was a system-generated note about me.

The note said: [Stella Moss, remaining attachment points: 0.00.]

Tobias stared at that zero for ages, his eyes bloodshot in the glow of the screen. Then, without warning, he snapped the laptop shut, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness.

"Who told you to look at these unnecessary numbers?" he barked, jerking my chair around.

I wasn't fazed. Tilting my head back, I met his burning eyes in the dark. His large hands gripped the armrests, his knuckles cracking.

"It's part of the contract. The client has the right to check the asset status anytime," I replied calmly.

"I told you to shut up!" Tobias cut me off, silencing me with a fierce kiss.

It was a brutal, aggressive kiss. His teeth clashed against my lips, the sharp taste of alcohol mixing with a wild, destructive fury.

He gripped my waist so tightly it felt like he wanted to meld me into his very bones. His hands were burning hot, restless as they roamed over my back.

He was desperate for me to respond. He wanted the old Stella, the one who'd blush and melt every time he kissed her.

But I didn't move. I was like a perfectly crafted wooden doll. I kept my eyes open, watching the occasional flicker of car lights dance across the ceiling.

My heart didn't race. My breathing didn't even hitch.

My senses were razor-sharp in that moment. I could feel the texture of his lips, the frantic thud of his heartbeat, and the way he was trembling.

But the more he trembled, the colder I became.

Tobias froze. He pushed me away, panting, his eyes filled with stunned terror. He looked at me as though I were a monster.

He said, "You didn't react. Stella, your heartbeat didn't change at all."

He pressed his hand over my heart, the warmth of his palm seeping through my thin pajamas, making my skin tingle a little. But I didn't move.

"Because I already sold you that last milligram of attachment," I said softly, putting on a professional smile.

I continued, "That kiss, the one you've replayed in your head for five years. On the Emotional Market, it's worth four million dollars. You confirmed delivery at 4 pm, two days ago, Mr. Rivas.

"That kiss isn't mine anymore. It's your asset now, locked away in your vault.

"If you want that flushed, racing-heart feeling, you can put on the helmet yourself and relive it. It's your private property."

Tobias backed up a couple of steps, bumping into the bookshelf behind him. A few books fell, thudding onto the floor. His face looked ghostly pale in the darkness.

That rational pride he always flaunted meant nothing now, not compared to that cold string of zeros.

He muttered, "I won billions of dollars. But what good does it do me?"

Tobias didn't realize it yet. This was only the first step into the trap.

Once he got used to using emotions as bargaining chips, he'd eventually become nothing more than a cold, lifeless chip himself, rejected by the very system he once played.

Two weeks later, Tobias had become the undisputed king of this city.

He controlled every outlet for emotional currency, and even changes to the law had to wait for his say-so.

But he was sick. The city's top doctors had all come to check on him. They said his physical stats were perfect, but his mind was spiraling toward total collapse.

He got obsessed with a dangerous game, like slashing his own arm with a knife, just to feel the pain.