The Billionaire’s Secret Bride

Celia looked up.

Nathaniel had lifted his gaze from the document at some point. Now, his sharp eyes were locked on her like a hawk spotting prey.

Had he heard it?

Had he heard her say she'd never been with anyone?

Celia looked away quickly, her delicate fingers curling on her lap.

The second round of Truth or Dare began. As if luck had turned against her, she once again drew the lowest card. The highest card this time? Fu Yingying.

Yingying grinned mischievously. "Alright, Cici—tell us, who was your first? What's the name of your first man?"

Celia froze.

She felt like she had been publicly executed.

In front of Nathaniel Fu, of all people, she was being asked this?

Her thoughts went into chaos as her classmates began to cheer and coax.

"Celia, no backing out! Come on, rules are rules! Spill the tea!"

Celia's gaze instinctively drifted toward Nathaniel. His expression hadn't changed—but the sharpness in his eyes cut deeper than words. At the corner of his mouth, there was a cold smirk full of mockery, as though he was daring her to say it. Daring her to say the name of the man who'd taken what he once possessed.

She wanted to shout it—to scream that he was her first.

But she didn't.

Instead, she lifted the bottle in front of her. "I'll drink," she said quietly.

Gasps, then hoots.

"Celia's going for the forfeit! Drink, drink, drink!"

Without hesitation, Celia downed ten bottles of beer in quick succession. Her head started to spin the moment she stood up. "You guys keep playing—I need to use the bathroom."

She pushed through the crowd and slipped away.

In the dim bathroom, Celia splashed cold water on her face, trying to clear her mind. But it didn't help. Her head swam, and her heart was heavy. Nathaniel's expression earlier—cold, dismissive, disgusted—kept replaying in her mind.

She hated that it still affected her.

She stepped out of the bathroom, deciding to go home.

But as she turned down the hallway, a shadow fell across her path.

It was Dylan Ji—the arrogant heir from the next VIP room. He'd noticed her earlier on the dance floor and had followed her out like a vulture drawn to blood.

"Well, well… So the pretty little clown girl from the countryside grew up into this?" Dylan sneered. "Face might not be much, but that body... damn. You were twisting like a snake back there—makes me wonder what else you're good at."

Celia's stomach turned. The alcohol dulled her reflexes, but not her fear. She tried to move past him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dylan grabbed her by the waist.

Her body went stiff in his arms. She was soft, warm, and completely unguarded—he could barely control his grin.

"Don't be so cold. Come have a little fun. I promise, I'll take care of you. You like nice things, don't you? I can give you plenty."

"Let me go!" Celia struggled, but her legs felt like jelly.

The hallway was empty.

Dylan took the opportunity, dragging her toward one of the nearby rooms.

But someone else had seen everything.

Mr. Li, who had earlier been chatting business with Nathaniel Fu, stood frozen as he recognized the girl being pulled away.

Isn't that the same girl Mr. Fu couldn't take his eyes off earlier?

Without wasting a second, Mr. Li pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Mr. Fu," he said urgently, "you'd better get out here. That girl—your little niece—is about to be dragged off by Dylan Ji."

Back in the main hall, Nathaniel's phone buzzed.

He glanced up—Fu Yingying was still seated at the table, chatting with classmates.

But Celia… she was gone.

He narrowed his eyes.

Did Mr. Li say "my little niece"? Was that on purpose?

Dragged into a room?

That girl?

A sharp pang of something shot through his chest—but he forced it down. Serves her right. What did she expect, dancing the way she did?

Let her deal with the consequences.

She was just another flirt. Look at her: young, careless, always drifting around men.

She shouldn't be his concern.

She wasn't worth it.

And yet… his fingers tightened around the phone.

He had heard her, clear as day.

"No... I don't have a first time."

Nathaniel's jaw clenched.

That answer—her answer—should've meant nothing to him.

So why the hell was he furious?

"Mr. Li," he said coldly into the phone, "She can do whatever she wants. Who she ends up with has nothing to do with me."

Then he hung up.

But his chest still burned.

And he couldn't stop picturing the look on her face when she drank instead of speaking his name.