Chapter 1

The day the system marked my mission as failed, I was having what would be my last dinner with James Preston.

He took his time cutting into his steak and then slid the plate over to Emily York, the intern who looked almost exactly like me.

"Tomorrow's Emily's birthday," he said to me. "So the engagement party is off."

I didn't cry or make a scene. I just nodded calmly. "Okay. Actually, we don't need to have one at all anymore."

James thought I was bluffing. He just laughed coldly and said, "You'll regret this."

But I didn't regret a thing.

The punishment was already in motion. In about an hour, I'd be dead from a heart attack.

I was curious what he would do when he found my body.

*****

The restaurant was filled with the sound of violins, elegant to the point of being suffocating.

I stared at the barely cooked steak, the blood pooling on the plate. It looked just like my heart right now, battered and bleeding.

Then that cold, robotic voice echoed in my head. [Target: James Preston. His love score has fallen below the threshold. Mission failed. Punishment sequence activated. Countdown: 59 minutes, 30 seconds. Cause of death: sudden myocardial infarction.]

James sat across from me, his slender fingers deftly handling the knife and fork, slicing the steak with a grace that made it seem like he was crafting art.

Next to him sat Emily, the intern who had only been at the company for a few weeks. She wore a white dress that didn't quite fit.

James had bought it for her using my old measurements from college, and it hung loose on her frame, giving her that same delicate, vulnerable look I used to have.

"Here, try it," James said, sliding the sliced steak over to Emily. His tone was casual, but there was a patience in his voice I'd never heard him use with me.

Emily shot me a timid glance, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Preston, is this really okay? This is Ms. Taylor's..."

"She's not hungry," James replied, not even glancing at me as he made the decision for me. "Besides, she doesn't like anything rare. She's always dramatic."

My hand tightened under the table, my nails digging into my palm, but I didn't feel a thing.

I didn't like anything rare?

Ten years ago, when we were just starting out, even if we were eating at some street stall, I'd always give him the only piece of meat.

When he finally made it big, the first time he took me to a fancy restaurant, he ordered the steak rare and told me that was how real steak was meant to be cooked.

I had never tried it before, but I went along with it. I ended up so sick that I thought I was going to throw up my insides.

He just frowned and said I was embarrassing myself.

From that night on, I made myself learn to love rare steak. I bent myself around every one of his preferences, convinced that's what it meant to make him happy.

Now, after ten years of trying to please him, he called me dramatic and acted like none of it ever happened.

"James," I said, my voice so steady that it even surprised me. "We need to talk."

James finally turned to look at me. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and shrugged. "Fine. I need to tell you something too."

He let the words hang there for a second, then glanced at Emily. Her face looked so much like mine, and I could tell he found that amusing.

"Tomorrow's Emily's birthday," he said. "She doesn't know anyone in the city and has no family here, so she wants to throw a party. Cancel the engagement party we had planned."

The air went still.

Emily pressed her hand to her mouth, playing up the surprise like she hadn't seen this coming. But I caught the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes easily.