Borrowed Girlfriend

Chapter 1

The digital world was hemorrhaging.

Across every television network in Asia, the headline scrolled in a relentless, crimson crawl: THE ROYAL WEDDING IS OFF.

On social media, the views were climbing into the tens of millions—a digital wildfire fueled by leaked photos and grainy security footage.

The heiress of the Lumere Luxe empire, Chloe Williams, had been caught. Not just once, but in a kaleidoscope of infidelities that spanned from Paris penthouses to Tokyo underground clubs.

The scandal wasn't just about sex; it was about the humiliation of the untouchable.

Chloe Williams, the woman who dealt in the world's most flawless diamonds, had proven to be the most flawed of them all. And her victim was the one woman no one dared to cross.

Inside the penthouse of the Korin Tower, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Orm Kornnaphat stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, the glittering lights of the city she helped build mocked her. In her hand, a crystal glass shook with the force of her silent rage.

"I am the fucking Orm Kornnaphat," she hissed, her voice a jagged edge in the quiet room. "I am the CEO of the Korin Group. I rule this society."

The image of Chloe—laughing, draped over a stranger in a dark corner—flashed in her mind. The embarrassment wasn't just a sting; it was a physical weight, a public execution of her pride. With a sudden, violent snarl, Orm whipped her arm back and sent the cocktail glass flying. It shattered against the far marble wall, a spray of expensive gin and glass shards raining down like diamonds.

"Give me another one!" Orm commanded, her chest heaving.

A sigh drifted from the shadows of the velvet sofa. Miu, the CEO of a multi-billion dollar tech giant and Orm's oldest confidante, didn't move to get the drink. She simply looked at the wreckage on the floor, then back at her friend.

"I told you, Orm," Miu said, her voice calm but frustrated. "I told you that girl was a predator. A playgirl. You shouldn't have let your parents talk you into a 'merger' disguised as a marriage. You tried to build a foundation on shifting sand."

Orm's head snapped around, her gaze so sharp and lethal it could have severed bone. "Not another word, Miu. Not one."

Miu raised both hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Fine. Burn the furniture, drink the cellar dry, and keep staring at the news until your eyes bleed. Or," Miu stood up, smoothing out her blazer, "you can come with me."

Orm turned back to the window, her jaw tight. "I'm not going to a board meeting."

"It's not a board meeting. It's a personal appointment," Miu replied, walking over and placing a hand on Orm's shoulder. The tech mogul's expression softened, but her eyes remained mischievous. "You've spent your whole life buying land and steel. It's time you saw what real power looks like—the kind that doesn't need a skyscraper to be felt. Tag along. You'll love it."

Orm looked at her friend, the fire of her humiliation still burning behind her eyes. "Where?"

Miu's smile widened. "To the dark side of the moon. To Kurotsuki (Black Moon)."

The black limousine glided to a halt in front of Kurotsuki, its polished chassis reflecting the neon hum of Tokyo like a dark mirror. This wasn't just a club; it was an exclusive sanctuary where the elite paid for the impossible, and where a membership was harder to acquire than a banking license.

As the doors opened, a phalanx of guards in sharp black suits lined the entrance. In one fluid motion, they bowed ninety degrees, their voices synchronizing in a deep show of respect.