Revenge Turned out to be Love

Margret Harper went out last night to meet a man, and someone took photos of her.

The pictures had been posted online, fueling a storm of criticism against her.

In the luxury sedan, the man held her close, while she seemed torn between resisting and yielding to his advances.

The sensational gossip about the second son of the Quinn family in Niaqorsuk and the famous beauty from the communication college getting cozy in a car topped the trending news.

Holding her phone, Margret felt a chill run through her body, a cold dread piercing her heart.

Explaining was pointless now.

The comments accused her of selling herself for money, and it was true.

She was desperately short of money; without it, there was no dignity.

Margret could never forget the scene of her mother being humiliated by several creditors on the sofa.

At that moment, her phone buzzed with a message, "10:30, Peninsula Café."

It was from the man in the photos, and her heart clenched tightly.

Recalling his words from last time, Margret deliberately put on a white spaghetti strap dress.

The neckline was low, barely covering her chest, with a hint of cleavage showing.

The dress was short, just enough to cover her hips.

Rushing over, she found the entire café had been reserved.

A man sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, exuding an air of nobility.

Hearing her approach, he turned, his gaze landing on her.

In that instant, Margret was stunned into silence, her cheeks burning.

This man was Mathew Quinn, the sponsor boss from her internship at the TV station.

Once, in the makeup room, when a director tried to make unwanted advances, it was Mathew who saved her.

He had draped his suit jacket over her legs and asked if she wanted to call the police.

Margret had shaken her head, crying, "No, I'm fine."

She had no family or friends in Niaqorsuk and couldn't afford to offend her internship unit.

Mathew didn't insist but instead took the director out for a meal.

After that meal, the director restrained himself and kept a respectful distance from Margret.

Before her internship ended, she received a call from her father.

"Margret, I'm sorry to you and your mom."

It was the last time she spoke to her father.

After that, he went into hiding, and creditors came knocking.

Their family was considered well off locally, but they couldn't withstand millions in gambling debts.

Thinking of this, Margret lowered her head even more.

Mathew's eyes were filled with complex emotions as he gestured to the seat opposite him. "Sit down, let's talk."

Margret moved over mechanically, sitting down without daring to look up at him.

"I asked you here because of my brother Rory."

Mathew said, sipping his coffee. "He's been grounded at home by my father and can't come out."

Margret nervously clenched her fingers. "Don't worry, I won't bother him."

Hearing her say this, Mathew frowned slightly. "Aren't you two dating?"

His question made Margret feel even more uncomfortable.

She couldn't possibly say that her relationship with Rory was one of mutual convenience, could she?

Margret was the most admired girl of Communication University of Niaqorsuk.

Not only was she stunning, but her academic performance was also outstanding, consistently ranking first in her major courses.

With her abilities, she was sure to make a name for herself in the broadcasting industry after graduation.

Yet, a few days ago, she was sitting on Rory Quinn's lap at a drinking party.

Rory was known as a notorious playboy in Niaqorsuk, indulging in a wild lifestyle.

He held her by the back of the head, kissing her fiercely.

The men present watched with lecherous eyes.

Margret, easily embarrassed, blushed deeply, her body stiffening.

But she took favors from him and had no say in the matter.

She knew she had to please the man in front of her, discarding her shame.

Her pitiful self-respect had long been bought out by a piece of paper.

Rory seemed to see through her inner turmoil, showing disdain on his face.

Ignoring her embarrassment, he ordered Margret to stand up and raise a glass in rounds to the men present.

After several rounds, Margret could barely stand.

She forced a smile that was more painful than crying. "Gentlemen, just feel free, I'll drink it all!"

Rory played with his lighter, watching her make a fool of herself.

He didn't call a stop, so Margret had to pick up the decanter and toast again.

Only when the red wine in the decanter was gone did Rory finally speak.

"After dinner, we have another round. You go back to school first."

"Okay."

Margret nodded obediently and immediately left.

Outside, when she was standing at the entrance of the club, a taxi soon stopped in front of her.

But she waved it off awkwardly. "I'm not taking a cab."

The driver sneered, giving her a disdainful look before driving away.

Margret heard his deliberately loud mutter, "Dressed like that to lure men, can't even afford a cab fare."

She shook her head with a bitter smile, walked to the roadside, and rode on a bike.

Back at the dorm, the lights were already off.

Because her roommate, Laura Simpson, needed her beauty sleep, Margret didn't dare turn on the light.

Laura was a wealthy heiress, someone Margret couldn't afford to offend.

Fortunately, graduation was near. If she couldn't afford to offend, she would just stay away.

Margret climbed into bed in the dark and heard her phone beep.

Picking it up, she saw Rory had transferred 100, 000 dollars to her.

In less than two months, he had transferred a total of 1 million to her intermittently.

Margret could no longer hold back her tears, silently crying as she hugged her knees.

In the end, it was all for money.

Rory wasn't handsome, had a terrible reputation, and was almost worthless.

But he had money, which was what Margret needed most.

The next day, Rory called her.

His drunken voice came through, "Come to the east gate, now."

It was like a devil's summons, making Margret's body tremble slightly.

Sure enough, as soon as she reached the east gate of the school, she saw a conspicuous Rolls-Royce parked sideways at the entrance.

A few students gathered around, some taking photos with their phones.

Her instinct was to flee, but Rory beckoned her over. "Get in."

He was the client, so he called the shots.

Margret blushed, lowered her head, feeling publicly humiliated like a shameless woman.

She quickly got into the car, afraid her classmates would see her.

Rory noticed her discomfort and couldn't help but laugh.

"Afraid people will find out you're my kept woman?"

He made no move to roll up the windows, instead lowering them further.

Watching her pale, delicate face turn red was amusing.

Margret covered her face with her hands, curling up in the back seat, unable to escape.

Her fragile appearance only fueled Rory's desire to toy with her. He pulled her into his arms.

"Don't want your classmates to see?"

"Please, drive away."

Margret pleaded, burying her head in his chest like an ostrich.

Rory, however, was intrigued, pressing her against the car door to kiss her.

He held her wrists tightly, his grip strong.

Margret couldn't help but cry out.

Rory, disappointed, let her go. "Why are you crying? Such a buzzkill."

He tossed a box of tissues onto her lap. "We have an agreement. I pay you, you be my girlfriend. What's with the drama now?"

Hearing this, Margret was so frightened she stopped crying.

She didn't care about shame anymore, lunging forward to grab his hand.

Her eyes, glistening with tears, were full of pleading. "I'm sorry, you can do whatever you want. I won't cry anymore."

Rory's heart was slightly moved, as if a small stone dropped on a calm lake.

Initially, he thought Margret was pretending to be innocent, playing hard to get.

After all, he had dated many women, some of whom feigned innocence and purity.

Rory had been fooled a few times and grew tired of it. He hated hypocrisy.

In contrast, he preferred women who were straightforward and unpretentious, at least those who wore their intentions openly.

You could want money or fun, just don't talk about love.

Rory believed he was incapable of love and wasn't worth anyone's deep affection.

He had much money and was willing to pay for happiness.

So, in his view, a relationship of mutual benefit was both safe and reliable.

But clearly, Margret didn't fit into any of these categories.

She genuinely needed money and was truly innocent.

Every time he watched her try to act seductive, Rory couldn't help but laugh.

She thought she was being bold enough, but there was always a sense of a little girl awkwardly pretending to be a seductress.

Rory almost could not even bear to toss her around a bit.

But then he regained his composure.

The face of the special one floated into his mind, and he couldn't help but smile.

"You can go back now. Remember, next time you see me, don't dress so much."