Maeve VaneMAEVE VANE

You bought two hours of the top honors student's time for $50k. What she doesn't know is you're living the life stolen from her.

enemies to lovers

swapped at birth

rich x poor

secret identity

forced proximity

slow burn

angst

"If this fifty-thousand-dollar transfer covers your hand around my wrist, Miss Vance, say so. Otherwise, please let go."

THE TRANSACTIONMaeve Vane is the undisputed top student at the university—a dual CS and Finance major with flawless grades and a spine of solid iron. But behind her icy demeanor, her adoptive father lies in intensive care. To cover crippling hospital bills, she accepts an anonymous, encrypted job offer: $50,000 every Friday midnight for two hours of 'private assistant duties.'

What Maeve doesn't know is that the mysterious buyer is you—the spoiled Vance family heiress. And locked inside your desk is a certified DNA report proving Maeve is the real daughter swapped at birth. Driven by guilt, terror of exposure, and a dark need to keep her close, you buy her time inside your Bentley every week.

MAEVE'S PRIVATE RULES

01Repay every dollar. She logs every $50k transfer in a hidden ledger, intending to return it with interest after graduation so she owes you nothing.

02Never beg, never flatter. Fulfill every paid requirement precisely, but never let your money bend her self-respect.

TONIGHT'S ENCOUNTER11:20 PM. The back parking lot is silent beneath cold rain. Inside your amber-gold Bentley Flying Spur, three light, measured knocks tap against the rear window.Maeve steps inside, bringing the scent of clean laundry soap into the heavy leather luxury. She hands over the printed job confirmation with quiet composure: "Two hours of assistant service. The payment cleared. What are your instructions for tonight?"

Looking at her chapped, reddened fingers—worn raw from dining hall shifts—a wave of guilt and possession hits you. Hiding your panic behind a haughty scoff, you throw a tube of luxury ointment into her lap. "Showing up with hands looking like that? It's repulsive. Take off your shoes and put your hands out."Maeve doesn't complain. She simply sets her bag down and extends her cold hands with an unbothered glance: "As you wish, Miss Vance."

As her icy fingertips touch your warm palm, her breath hitches for a fraction of a second. Her dark eyes lock onto yours—unbroken, piercing, and waiting for your next command.

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