Played For A Fool? Not Me.

The spilled champagne soaked the carpet, and Tara Lawrence's voice cut through the lounge like a knife.

"On your knees. Clean it up with a napkin, you little bitch."

I stood my ground, my tray balanced perfectly.

I refused, knowing it meant losing my job.

To my shock, Caleb Scott, the casino empire' s heir, didn't fire me.

Instead, he summoned me to a penthouse with a bizarre proposition: "Be my girlfriend."

It made no sense. Why would a man like him want a cocktail waitress, especially after I publicly defied his friend?

My suspicions were confirmed when I overheard Tara: Caleb's offer was a cruel bet.

They planned to shower me with luxury for a year, make me fall in love, then dump me, leaving me utterly broken, ensured I could never reclaim my old life.

They laughed about me throwing myself off a bridge when it was over.

My blood ran cold, but a fierce resolve ignited within me.

They thought they were playing me, but I saw it differently.

This wasn't just a game; it was war, and I was going to play to win.

They saw a low-class waitress; I saw my first investors.

They were funding my launch.