I Was the Wrong Love Interest

I had been secretly in love with Nolan Mercer for fifteen years.

But I was the last girl he’d ever want, so I never told him.

Then one morning, a glowing text box popped up in front of my eyes like something out of a video game. It called itself a romance system, and it told me I was Nolan’s destined love interest.

So I dropped the good-girl act and let the real me off the leash. First I maneuvered him into marrying me. Then I kept him in bed whenever I could.

Nolan hated me for it, but I believed his romance mission forced him to give in.

Six shameless months passed before the romance system suddenly came back screaming.

[ERROR! ERROR! I made a mistake! You’re not the heroine—you’re a side character!]

[Cut ties with the male lead immediately, or face a penalty…]

That night, Nolan was lying on our bed as usual when I came home.

He watched me approach and said flatly, “Is coercion the only way you know how to get what you want, Blair?”

“You’re manipulative. You don’t know the first thing about love. One of these days, I’m going to be free of you—”

Before he could finish, I pulled the comforter up to his chin.

“Sure. You’re right about everything. I want a divorce.”

Nolan went silent.

His long dark lashes trembled.

I almost laughed at myself. It felt strange to talk to him in such a distant tone.

Before tonight, the harder he resisted, the more excited I got. I would throw my arms around his waist, steal his warmth, and coax him shamelessly.

“Come on, baby, don’t be mad. Just let me hold you for a minute, okay? I’m crazy about you.”

Every time, his body would go rigid, and his voice would turn even stiffer.

“Are you done? Then let go.”

I pulled myself out of the memory and cleared my throat. This time, I dropped the pet name.

“Nolan.”

His breath caught. His pale eyes snapped to mine.

Only the bedside lamp was on. The soft light was all wrong for this conversation. I reached for the overhead switch.

The room brightened. He had shoved the comforter back down.

Then I saw what he was wearing.

It was the outfit I had bought him the week before—if a few scraps of black fabric and a thin silver bell around his throat could be called an outfit. The bell rose and fell against his broad chest with every breath.

When he had first opened the package, his face had gone crimson.

“Blair Winthrop! How could you even buy something like this?” His hand had been shaking as he held up the bag. “You’re more shameless than I thought.”

I had pestered him for two days, but he’d refused to put it on. He’d even threatened to move into the guest room, so I finally gave up.

Then my father had a stroke. Winthrop Holdings fell into chaos, and I barely made it home for a month.

Yet tonight—the exact night the system admitted its mistake—Nolan had put the thing on.

Talk about bad timing.

I sighed.

He held my gaze, tense. Before I could say anything, his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“All my sleep clothes were in the wash,” he said coldly. “This was the only thing left. Don’t read into it.”

I looked away. “I won’t. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

He froze for several seconds, then sat up so abruptly that the little bell jingled.

I stopped and looked back.

He pressed his lips together and turned his face away. “What is this, some new game you found online?”

His ears reddened as his frustration rose.

“You’re always finding weird stuff online and trying it out on me. I’m not a toy. I have limits. You can’t just—”

“It isn’t a game.” I cut him off. “Nolan, I’m serious. I want a divorce.”

The room fell completely still.

He sat motionless on the bed, barely breathing.

I walked out, and I even turned off the light for him on my way.

I went straight to the study, leaned back in the desk chair, and closed my eyes. My chest ached, dull and steady.

The system had first shown up in the fifteenth year of my hopeless crush