Sorry Boys, You're On Payroll

Across from me sat Timothy and Henry.

The cafeteria went dead quiet.

Every eye locked on me.

Adrian reached over and tucked the loose strand behind my ear, frowning. "You're eating that?"

I kept my head down and took two bites. "I'm broke. This is what I can afford."

The four of them traded a quick look.

Disdain flashed in their eyes—gone just as fast, replaced with polished smiles.

***

Timothy flipped the switch fast and grabbed my hand. "With that face? You're eating leftovers?"

Before I could answer, he hauled me out, shoved me into a glossy black luxury car, and drove straight to Alverton's priciest five-star Michelin spot.

I went still.

Wasn't this basically my cafeteria?

The head chef? My parents brought him back from Francia. On paper, he owned the place. In reality, he cooked for me.

The second we walked in, the manager rushed over, ready to say, "Miss Blan—"

I gave a tiny shake of my head.

He swallowed and said, "This way, please."

Finley pulled out a chair, all charm. "Order anything. Just home-style cooking. Don't be shy."

I almost laughed.

Yeah. It was home cooking.

Mine.

They showed off while introducing every dish.

I'd been sick of this menu for years. I took a few bored bites.

In their eyes?

I just didn't know how to eat properly.

Henry reached over, twisted a claw off the deep-sea blue crab, cracked it clean, and held the meat to my lips.

I spotted the tiny camera pinned to his chest.

Now I was interested.

I dropped my gaze, voice soft. "Henry, I heard your hands only hold a scalpel."

His mouth twitched. A beat passed. "You're different."

So you can disgust me, but I can't disgust you?

I fidgeted, eyes down, playing shy—then took the bite.

After that, they started competing.

Serving me food. Peeling shrimp. Wiping my mouth.

They didn't stop.

I smiled and played along with each of them.

By the end, I was wiped.

Back in the dorm, my roommates stared at me, expressions complicated.

I checked my phone.

Right on cue—Chloe was live again.

The stream looped the clip of Henry feeding me crab. Over and over.

The room exploded with laughter.

Timothy slapped his thigh. "I almost lost it! That look on her face—like she really thought she was the lead in some romance drama!"

Henry's face went dark. "What's so funny? I scrubbed my hands three times and still felt gross."

Finley clapped his shoulder, grinning. "She's probably in love now. Nice move."

After that, they doubled down.

Flowers. Gifts. Date invites.

Every day, I played my role, feeding their livestream.

When classmates whispered and laughed, I acted like I didn't hear.

Until one day, someone yanked me into a corner.

The guy swallowed hard. "Serena, you're being played. Those guys aren't good."

Everyone knew what was happening to me.

Some watched for fun. Some stayed out of it.

He was the only one who warned me.

Before I could respond—

Someone shoved him hard.

He stumbled and hit the ground.