Who Does the CEO's Glass Slipper Belong To?

A billionaire crafted a crystal high heels worth ten billion dollars, declaring he'd marry whoever could wear it.

First life, Marlowe secretly had the high heels stretched to fit her foot. Alexander slapped her face raw, "Not her!"

Second life, Delilah starved herself down forty pounds to squeeze into it. Alexander shoved her off the balcony without hesitation, "Still not her!"

Third life, Ophelia gritted her teeth and had her toes surgically shortened to fit the high heels.

Alexander coldly smiled and held her underwater in the infinity pool until she drowned.

Fourth life, they ran out of options and frantically pushed me forward.

I slipped on the crystal shoe—it fit perfectly.

The whole apartment finally exhaled in relief.

But a month after marriage, he locked me in the basement, tortured me day and night, and finally divided my body into more than a dozen pieces and sent it back to the apartment

This final life, Alexander still had his assistant deliver the high heels, and all four of us claimed it wouldn't fit.

But the assistant looked at us strangely, "Mr. Sterling said the high heels's owner is among you four."

...

The four of us stared at that egg-sized diamond-encrusted crystal high heels, completely dumbfounded.

Everyone eligible in our apartment had been married off once already—who exactly did this billionaire want to marry?

Ophelia repeatedly confirmed with Alexander's assistant, "Could there be a mistake? Our apartment shouldn't have Alexander's beloved, right?"

Otherwise, we wouldn't have married four times and nearly completed a corpse collection.

But the assistant frowned with displeasure, speaking seriously and earnestly, "When you four attended Mr. Sterling's charity gala, you occupied an entire table. He glanced at you once and said the high heels's owner was among the four ladies from Apartment 4B."

"This matter is absolutely certain."

With that, he presented the crystal high heels, declaring haughtily, "Try it on, one by one."

Image-obsessed Marlowe backed away, "I'm allergic to crystals—I'd die instantly if I wore it."

Money-loving Delilah waved her hands frantically, "I'm way too muscular now, I'd shatter the high heels."

Divorce-seeking Ophelia smiled more painfully than crying, "My heart still belongs to my ex-husband. Alexander definitely doesn't love me."

Finally, everyone turned to look at me in unison, and the assistant smiled until his face wrinkled, "Didn't Miss Sage have a chance encounter with Mr. Sterling that left her smitten at first sight?"

"These high heels belong to Miss Winters, without a doubt."

How could my heart dare to flutter? It was barely beating anymore.

Last life, when I heard those words, I was genuinely moved.

After all, Alexander and I did have a secret romance.

So when I finally escaped the control of my three roommates and successfully married Alexander, I thought my suffering had finally ended. I waited on the wedding bed, excited and shy for Alexander's arrival.

But the moment he saw my face clearly, he furiously grabbed a fruit knife and turned me into a human pincushion.

His pupils reflected my face, filled with towering rage, "How dare you marry me in her place—you're not her!"

I bled out in excruciating pain, but did not die, and after waking up from the basement, I couldn't figure out what was going on.

The person Alexander was looking for wasn't me—then who could it be?!

I fell into reminiscence and stood silently in place, not taking the high heels from the assistant's hand.

The assistant smiled, "Marrying Mr. Sterling is indeed stressful. You need time for psychological preparation.How about this—tomorrow Mr. Sterling will come personally. You have tonight to think it over carefully. I'll leave the high heels here for now."

The assistant left the high heels behind and departed in his diamond-studded luxury Maybach.

But looking at those eye-blinding crystal high heels, our hearts still didn't dare flutter—we were scared to death.

The three roommates who'd been at odds with me all these years rarely formed a united front, pulling me into the living room for a private meeting.

They spread their fingers and tried the high heels on one by one.

In the end, they confirmed that only my foot was suitable.

Ophelia looked at me suspiciously, "Are you sure you were also killed on your wedding night?"

I rolled my eyes helplessly, "I was dismembered and sent back to the apartment. Didn't you all see it?"

Delilah nodded repeatedly, "It was brutal—not a single piece of good skin left on her body."

Marlowe also sighed, "I fought with Sage for three years, but seeing that scene even made me feel sorry for her."

The four of us looked at each other and sighed helplessly.

Ophelia had a breakdown, "But if we can't produce someone tomorrow, won't he kill us all?"

The three showed expressions of grief.

I suddenly looked up, "But it's not completely hopeless. What if Alexander's true love isn't among us? Maybe we should go see him directly and test the waters?"

"If we can figure out who he's really looking for, we might save our lives."

To protect our lives, the four of us decided to act immediately and took an Uber to Alexander Tower.

Delilah was best at playing the innocent victim, and her sob story earned us permission for an audience with the billionaire himself.