Chapter 9: Be Your Girlfriend?!

Her face turned completely crimson, the blush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.

"W-What?!" she stammered, almost dropping her shopping bag as her brain short-circuited. "Are you crazy?! Is this how you ask a girl out?! Right on the sidewalk surrounded by designer bags?!"

She took a step back, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. "We—we barely even know each other! You just appeared out of nowhere, threw a fortune at my problems, and now you’re asking me to be your girlfriend?!"

I didn’t let her spiral. I stepped forward, reached out, and gently took her hand in mine, wrapping my fingers around hers.

Chloe froze. Her frantic hand gestures stopped instantly, her wide eyes locking onto mine as her breath caught in her throat.

"Then let me rephrase," I said, my voice soft but steady. "Come on a real date with me. No luxury stores, no pressure. Just the two of us getting to know each other."

She swallowed hard, looking down at our joined hands, her heart clearly hammering in her chest. "And... and what if I say no?" she asked in a quiet, fragile whisper, peeking up at me through her lenses. "What if I reject you? Do you take the apartment back? Do I go back to sleeping on my uncle’s couch?"

I squeezed her hand gently, looking directly into her eyes with total sincerity.

"Chloe, everything I got you today—the apartment, the clothes, the spa—that’s yours. Period," I said firmly. "No strings attached. Even if you walk away right now and never speak to me again, you’re never going back to that toxic house. I helped you because you deserve better, not because I wanted to buy your feelings."

The words hit her like a physical wave. The lingering fear and suspicion in her eyes completely melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelmed warmth. Her bottom lip trembled slightly as her cheeks burned an even deeper shade of red.

She quickly pulled her hand back, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and looking anywhere but at me.

"You... you are absolute trouble," she muttered, her voice flustered and completely breathless. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to regain her composure, before looking back at me with a soft, helpless smile. "I... I’ll think about it, okay? Just... give me some time to breathe, Mr. Smooth Talker."

[Target: Chloe Vance]

[Emotional Connection: Deepening]

[Confidence & Self-Worth: Rapidly Rising]

[Transformation Progress: 70%]

"Fair enough," I grinned, picking up the shopping bags once more. "Now, let’s finally get you moved into that penthouse."

"We can ship all of these directly to your new address," the manager chimed in with a wide, respectful bow after I tapped my phone over the terminal.

The final tally came out to $51,800.00—a bit over the $50k target—but I didn’t say a single word of complaint. Seeing her actually let loose, stop double-checking prices, and pick out things simply because she liked them showed that the suffocating anxiety holding her back was finally breaking down.

[Target: Chloe Vance - Wardrobe Upgrade]

[Amount Expended: $51,800.00]

[Status: SUCCESSFUL]

"Thank you, we’ll take you up on that delivery," I told the manager, handing over the penthouse address.

As we stepped out of the store with free hands, the high of the shopping spree began to settle. Chloe’s energetic posture softened, and a familiar shadow flickered across her face. She slowed her steps, clutching her arms as she looked up at me with a rare, quiet vulnerability.

"Before we go to the apartment..." she began softly, her voice wavering slightly, "...I need to go back to my uncle’s house. Just for twenty minutes. I have a box of my mom’s old notebooks, my personal hard drive, and a few documents I can’t leave behind."

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening against her sleeves as she looked into my eyes, pleading without putting it into words.

"Can you... can you come with me?" she asked in a low whisper. "I don’t think I can face them alone."

I reached out, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I’m right behind you. Let’s go wrap this up once and for all."

We rode the bike back toward the cramped, rundown suburban house on the edge of the district. The old wooden front door was slightly ajar.

As Chloe pushed the door open, the heavy smell of stale coffee and damp air hit us—along with the harsh, grating voice of her uncle coming straight from the living room.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" her uncle sneered, standing up from the sofa with a stack of papers in hand. "Where the hell have you been, Chloe? My son’s assignment isn’t done, and you—"

He froze mid-sentence as his eyes dragged past Chloe and landed squarely on me standing right behind her.

The Dean’s sneer twisted into a nasty, arrogant laugh as he recognized my face, stepping forward and tossing the stack of papers onto the coffee table.

"Well, well. If it isn’t the little troublemaker from yesterday," he sneered, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at me. "Didn’t I just nullify your scholarship and pull your housing status? I thought I made it abundantly clear that broke, violent losers like you don’t belong anywhere near this university—or near my niece."

He turned his harsh gaze onto Chloe, his voice dropping into a sharp, commanding growl. "Is this why you neglected your family duties? Running around with a disgraced former student who doesn’t have two pennies to rub together?"

Before I could even step forward, Chloe took a sudden, decisive step in front of me. Her chin was up, her shoulders were thrown back, and her eyes flashed with a fierce, burning resolve through her glasses.

"Shut up!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the damp living room like a whip.