Sorry Boys, You're On Payroll

I was halfway through a sad cafeteria lunch when a livestream popped up:

[Ring toss—whoever lands it gets the dog.]

Onscreen, Alverton University's rich-boy squad cracked up, betting on who'd "own" me.

Adrian Locke, the student council golden boy, flicked his ring. It landed dead center on my nameplate.

"One month. Let's see which owner the little bitch wags her tail for."

I closed the stream.

Right then, a text from my dad lit up my phone:

[Sweetheart, have you chosen your fiancé candidate?]

I smirked, snapped a screenshot of the stream, and sent it.

[Evaluation complete. All four disqualified.]

On the livestream, the name I was using—"Serena Smith"—hung from a dog's neck, swinging back and forth.

Alverton University's top four golden boys stood around it, playing their latest game—love ring toss.

Whoever landed a ring on the dog "won" me.

Four rings were already stacked around its neck.

Adrian Locke chuckled. "Well, this is lively. All four of us into the same little bitch?"

Finley Gibson arched a brow. "She's a broke transfer. How much could she know? She's probably already dazzled."

Timothy Jenner's eyes lit up. "Let's make it interesting. One month. We'll see who she's obsessed with."

Henry Heimlich didn't speak. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, like the winner was already decided.

I shut off the livestream and smirked.

Funny, right?

Dad sent me to Alverton University to pick a solid fiancé from those four.

Too bad.

Not one of them made the cut.

***

The livestream kept rolling. The camera zoomed in on a dressed-up girl calling my name at the dog.

"Serena, come here! Be good, good dog!" She smiled wide. "A broke transfer just hit Alverton U and already got tangled with you four golden boys. That's rough."

The chat flew by—

[Poor girl came to Alverton U for a sugar daddy. Guess she scored!]

[Didn't the last few get forced to drop out or get knocked up and abort? New season, same show?]

[Can't wait to see her act lovesick. Bet she's already planning the wedding.]

Adrian draped a hand over her shoulder, voice easy. "You made the game. We're just playing. Why pin it on us?"

Finley played with her fingers, sounding affectionate. "We went too easy last time. That girl just cried. You said it was boring. So what'll it take to impress you, Princess Chloe?"

Timothy flipped his hair, smug. "Cinderella plot. Easy. I'll bet on myself. One million."

Henry didn't talk. He just slipped his jacket over her shoulders. "I'm in. One and a half."

They performed for the camera like it was nothing.

I felt nothing.

Because I wasn't Serena Smith.

I was Blair Blanchet.

This transfer? Dad's setup. Fake name. Real mission—pick a husband from the four of them.

Right now, I was "Serena Smith," broke and invisible at the bottom of the food chain.

What pissed me off wasn't them humiliating me.

It was how they kept grinding innocent girls into the dirt.

The