Part 2Scandalous by Design

The next day, things got even weirder.

#ChaseChenSecretGirlfriend #ChloeChenDesperateSimp #ChaseAndChloeCohabitation

Turns out, the paparazzi caught Chase picking me up. They spun a tale about how I, Chloe Chen (the D-list villainess), was throwing myself at Chase Chen (the A-list idol), and how he eventually took me home.

Me: "..."

Guys, look at the names. Chloe Chen. Chase Chen.

We look alike! A fool would ask if we were related!

But the comments were brutal.

"Don't tarnish my oppa! Chloe Chen is a stage name! Her real name is Gertrude!"

Me: "...?"

"No way, twenty years ago when she did that commercial, wasn't her name Mary?"

Me: "...??"

"Wait, I know this! I've been a hater for ten years. Her real name is Sally Ann DeOpsva, she's half-Russian!"

Me: "...???"

Hold on, bro, you know too much.

I scrolled down, face darkening. No one got it right. Instead, they dug up the incident from twenty years ago.

"Who cares what her name is? She's been a liar since she was seven."

"True. I feel so bad for Lydia Quinn. She took care of that ungrateful brat, only to be backstabbed."

"Lydia Quinn hasn't been active in years. Is she retired?"

"I hope she comes back just to slap Chloe in the face!"

Slap.

I placed my phone face down on the table.

Lydia Quinn. The first celebrity I ever met, and the architect of my ruin.

Because of one sentence—"You're lying"—directed at a seven-year-old, I had carried a label of dishonesty for twenty years. She used my "betrayal" to gain sympathy and win her Best Actress award.

Meeting her again? Honestly, I was kind of looking forward to it.

Buzz buzz.

My phone vibrated. A notification from Twitter. Chase had posted.

@ChaseChen_Real: I can't hide it anymore. She has a terminal illness. She almost fainted on the road, so I brought her home to die in peace. She’s gone now. Venmo me $50 for a Cyber-Funeral (Deluxe Edition).

Attached was a fake diagnosis report he pulled from who-knows-where.

My brother is quiet only when he’s plotting evil.

"Hey, you're eating my blood buns (profiting off my misery)!" I walked into the living room, rolling my eyes.

"Shh, I'm fishing for a big catch." Chase typed furiously on his phone.

I kicked him. "Is there food? I'm starving."

"Sis, it's 1 AM. Aren't you a female celebrity? Don't you diet?"

"The celebrity is dead. I'm a ghost now." I scratched my messy hair. "Forget it, I'll go buy something."

The convenience store was close. I walked back with a bag of snacks and saw a tall figure standing at our door.

A stalker fan? I knew living with Chase was risky.

I crept closer and saw Chase leaning against the doorframe, looking bored.

"...She's already taken her last breath," Chase said solemnly.

Huh?

I squinted and stepped forward. "Who took their last breath?"

The figure spun around. Before I could see his face, he collapsed onto the floor. Thud.

"Crap. I forgot he's afraid of ghosts," Chase said, looking at me. "Sis, wash your face. You look like a zombie from the night shift."

"Yes, yes, your majesty." I squatted down to check the body. When I saw the face, I nearly fainted too.

"Preston... Preston Shaw?!"