His Innocent Heart My Vengeful Plan

I used a brand-new iPhone to reel in the legendary heir of the NYC elite.
The day I bought the latest iPhone, a man so gorgeous it felt excessive walked straight up to me in the Apple Store and asked if he could borrow my phone to shoot a video.
He took my phone, looked into the camera, and said with an embarrassingly self-conscious smirk, OMG, thank you, babe, for the brand-new iPhone 15 Pro Max!
His voice was so over-the-top affectedso much vocal fryI felt like I could excavate a castle with the cringe on the soles of my feet.
The entire store went silent for a beat.
Then, he cleared his throat and continued his performance for the front-facing camera.
Its three PM, time for my totally low-key, humble brag.
The new natural titanium finish? Its whatever. A phone that costs a couple thousand? Totally average for me.
Thats it for today. In a few days, Ill show you the new car my darling bought me.
Try not to be too jealous. Some of you trying to bag a sugar mama need to check your reflection before you try to play this game.
1
The moment he finished, the silence in the store lasted exactly half a second.
Then, the place erupted in laughter and chatter.
Seriously? Thats the bar for flexing now? Borrowing someone elses phone?
A couple thousand. Thats like, a weeks worth of his groceries, not a car.
A sugar mama? Does he even know that girl he just borrowed the phone from?
My best friend, Willow, covered her face, mortified.
Sasha, I told you! He was clearly a weirdo. I said not to lend it to him, but you just had to be stubborn.
The ridiculously handsome guy finished the video, handed my phone back, and looked slightly sheepish.
Thank you. You really saved me.
The mocking laughter around us was sharp. I watched him try to maintain a fa?ade of cool confidence, and I felt a strange mix of pity and amusement.
On an impulse, the words just tumbled out.
How about I buy you a phone? That way, you wont have to beg for a loan everywhere you go.
I added, It looks like you really need it.
He froze, then a wide, bright smile spread across his face.
I dont need one now. But can I get your number? Or, better yet, lets exchange Instagram handles. Ill treat you to dinner next time to thank you for lending it to me.
I was about to nod, but Willow tugged on my arm again, lowering her voice.
Dont! Guys like thatthick-skinned, too good-lookingtheyre the worst kind of players. Be careful he doesnt latch onto you!
I just smiled and accepted his follow request.
Willow didnt know.
That man was Rhys Beckettthe one and only heir to the Beckett Group, the legendary "Prince" of the NYC elite, the one who was never seen.
And I had been watching him for a long time.
In a private lounge at an exclusive Soho club, Rhys Beckett tossed his phone onto the table with a groan of disgust.
Whose idea was that dare? Making me go to the Apple Store to flex? And that scriptIve never been so humiliated in my entire life!
His pack of privileged friends doubled over with laughter.
Hey, you lost the bet, man! Preston had to hug an elevator pole in the mall and scream Mommy for five minutes. Youre even.
Come on, let us see the video!
They immediately swarmed around him.
Hahaha, Rhys, your face! Its the perfect blend of arrogance and deep-seated shame! I want to punch you and hug you at the same time!
Wait whos the girl who lent you the phone? Shes genuinely gorgeous. Great style.
Rhyss ears quietly flushed red. He unconsciously rubbed his thumb over the rim of his glass.
Just some kind stranger passing by. There were so many people there, and she was the only one who actually helped.
Ohhh The group immediately scented gossip.
Our man Rhys is finally coming out of hibernation?
Rhys shot them a glare, pulling up the empty chat screen with me.
He grumbled good-naturedly, Get lost, all of you. Stop talking nonsense.
A week ago, I was Sasha Miller, the most prized protg of Marcus Shaw, the East Coasts foremost architectural and design master, and the internal successor to his prestigious studio.
Now, I was a disgraced traitor, publicly cast out by my mentor, with my name blacklisted across the entire industry.
All because he found his true museDelaney.
Today was the final deadline for me to move out of the studio apartment.
I silently packed my sketchbooks and tools, dragging my suitcase toward the door.
Delaney blocked my way, arms crossed, a picture of haughty entitlement.
Stop right there. You are not taking anything that belongs to Master Shaw.
As she spoke, she brutally yanked open my suitcase, scattering years of accumulated design sketches, my framed award certificates, even the professional books I had bought myself, and my savings statementseverything I had.
All that was left inside were a few changes of clothes.
The money in those accounts, I saved myself, penny by penny. Why cant I take my own savings? I demanded.
You only rose to prominence on the strength of Master Shaws name. You have no real talent on your own. You have no right to take anything associated with this place.
I looked toward the far sofa. My former mentor, Marcus Shaw, was sitting there, watching the scene with cold indifference, completely silent.
Grant, the senior apprentice who had always looked out for me, was now solicitously handing Delaney a bottle of water, acting as if I were invisible.
The humiliation was a suffocating tide.
I knelt down, quietly repacking the clothes, tossing the savings statements aside, and then stood up, giving them one last look.
Let them have the statements for now. Its not like they could actually withdraw the funds.
I moved into Willows guest room.
Willow helped me make the bed, trying to reassure me.
Its fine, Sash. Staying here is great. That crappy studio? Good riddance!
I knew this was only temporary.
Willow always called me na?ve, but she didnt understand. Someone who has been violently dragged from the clouds into the mud cant afford to be na?ve anymore.
I had a low, burning knot of fury in my stomach. I would make Marcus Shaw and Delaney pay.
Running into Rhys Beckett at the Apple Store might be my only way forward.
He had just returned from abroad and hadnt been completely tainted by the muck of this circle yet.
I had my looks and my years of social networking experience.
That was all the capital I had left.
Two days later, Rhys finally texted me.
[I still owe you that dinner. Are you free tonight?]
Watching the notification pop up, the corner of my mouth slowly curled into a wider smile.
[The new Italian place on Madison Avenue. Seven PM. Don't be late.]
When I walked into the restaurant, I immediately sensed the strange atmosphere.
Some people were pretending to study their menus, but their eyes kept flicking over to me.
Others held up their phones, pretending to take selfies, but their cameras were clearly aimed in my direction.
Rhys was already waiting at a window table.
He saw me enter and gave an awkward little cough. His friends immediately snapped back to attention, pretending nothing had happened.
And Rhyss ears, once again, were crimson.
I instantly realized that these were probably his gawking, gossipy friends.
I calmly sat down across from him.
Tonight, I had deliberately worn a simple black cocktail dress I designed myself. The cut was minimalist, but the detailsa subtle drape here, a sharp angle thereshowcased my skill, perfectly outlining my figure without being ostentatious.
I never got your name, I started, breaking the silence.
Rhys seemed a little nervous, clearing his throat. Its R. J. Beckett. R for Rhys, J for well, just J.
I extended my hand, smiling warmly.
Im Sasha Miller.
His fingertips were warm. The moment they touched mine, he pulled back as if hed been shocked by an electric current.
Rhys tried to maintain his 'cool playboy' posture, but his earlobes, red enough to bleed, completely betrayed him.
Muffled snickers occasionally drifted from the surrounding tables.
I watched his face deepen in color, the blush spreading down his neck.
It looked like I had chosen the right person for dinner.
He was far more innocent than I had anticipated.
After dinner, we said goodbye. I stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a ride, and faintly heard Rhyss low, furious roar from inside:
Who told you guys to follow me? Huh? All of you acting like spotlights, get out!
I waited a long time for a ride on the curb.
Before, I always had a private car arranged by the studio.
The jarring drop in my lifestyle was never more obvious than right now.
I wondered if Delaney was enjoying the perks that should have been mine.
Suddenly, the sky opened up, and the rain came down in sheets. I was quickly soaked to the bone.
When I got back to Willows place, she rushed over with a dry towel.
What happened to you? Its pouring, why didnt you find shelter?
Are you okay? she asked, concern etched on her face.
My nose stung, and I nearly burst into tears, but I held it in.
Id lived a privileged life for two decades, and in the end, the only things that truly belonged to me were my best friend, a bank account with a dwindling balance, and the resolve of a twenty-something on the brink.
After that night, Rhys started texting me constantly.
He shared all the mundane details of his life.
[I got dragged to some boring gala. Id rather be at a gallery with you. Can I see you again soon?]
In the photo he sent, I saw Delaney.
She was wearing a gown based on one of my archived sketches, beaming as Marcus Shaw introduced her to various industry bigwigs. She looked triumphant.
The gala was excessively lavish. Rhys hadn't intentionally focused the camera, just zoomed out a little.
[My feet are killing me standing around here.]
I understood his subtext and replied gently:
[I thought you were really tall at the Apple Store. Over six-one, right?]
[Six-three. Im an actual six-three.]
I could almost picture him, bored, legs casually crossed in a corner, pulling a smug smile when he saw my reply.
Some people could have everything without lifting a finger.
Like Delaney.
She had little innate talent, excelling only at plagiarism and mimicry, yet her quick wit and flattery had won Marcus Shaws total devotion.
I was different.
Marcus Shaw had been notoriously strict with me. He used to say I was the most gifted designer he had ever seen.
I pushed myself harder for that praise, striving for reputation, money, and every accolade that could benefit the studio.
Just as he was about to formally announce me as his successor, Delaney arrived.
She replaced me effortlessly.
I only recently discovered that Marcus Shaw had known for a while that Delaney was stealing and mimicking my work, but he had chosen to ignore it.
No wonder he hadn't seemed that excited when I won the international grand prize.
My once-devoted mentor and my supportive senior apprentice were now orbiting Delaney.
I was the one who had been discarded.
Except for Willow, who was still in my corner.
So, what was mine, I had to reclaim myself.
Rhyss message popped up again.
[Im so glad youre keeping me company. This kind of event genuinely drives me insane.]
I pretended to be curious.
[What gala is it? Sounds important. Cant you just skip it?]
[The Shaw Studio celebration. Celebrating their new designer, Delaney, for winning some big award. My grandfather and Marcus Shaw have history, so I have to be here.]
Delaney won an award? A celebration gala?
My hand shook, and my phone clattered to the floor.
A decade of my life, countless all-nighters spent sketching and perfecting, had ultimately become a ladder for her ascent.
Rhys: [What was that? Sounds like a big thump.]
Me: [Just dropped my phone. Clumsy. Say, why do you guys have to attend? Seems like only the very top people would get an invite to something like that.]
Rhys replied quickly, with a hint of playful bragging.
[Heh, actually, I snuck out without telling my grandfather. Is there anything you want to eat? I could bring you something.]
Me: [Wow, youre an escape artist! Could you bring me a piece of Tiramisu? Im suddenly craving it.]
[No problem.]
We agreed on a meeting spot. I looked at my phones cracked screen and felt a fresh stab of financial pain.
I wouldnt be able to upgrade to the latest model on a whim anymore.
This life had to end, and fast.
I decided I would make Rhys completely fall for me at this meeting.
I stopped by a convenience store to pick up a few things for our impromptu date.
But I never made it.
Parked outside the convenience store was a Ferrari I knew all too well.
My former senior apprentice, Grant, got out, opened the passenger door, and helped a princess-like Delaney out of the seat.
Grant, this place is so rundown. I dont want to stay here for another second.
Delaney wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Grant gently brushed the hair from her forehead, his voice dripping with affection.
We just need to warn Willow to stay out of your business with Sasha. Just a little longer, Delaney.
Willow was my best friend.
My eyes instantly welled up.
Warn her?
Because she had taken me in?
Grant, my former friend, how could you be so utterly ruthless?
All for Delaney.
The fate of a genius whose value had been squeezed dry was truly pathetic.
I waited in the corner for a long time until the glaring red Ferrari finally sped away.
Willows family was well-off, but her fathers company was dependent on the larger conglomerate associated with Marcus Shaws studio.
When I got back, Willows father was sitting on the sofa, his face cold. Her mother looked at me with open distaste. Willow was stuck between us, her face a mask of distress.
Sasha, I
I forced out a smile that was more like a grimace and picked up my suitcase.
Before leaving, I bowed deeply to them.
Uncle, Auntie, I am so sorry for the trouble I caused. Thank you for taking me in. I wont bother you anymore.
Now, I truly had nothing left.
I crouched on the sidewalk, my suitcase at my feet.
Tears splashed onto the clean pavement, making small, spreading circles.
I picked up my phone. The screen showed 99+ unread messages.
I braced myself, expecting insults from Grant or mockery from Delaney.
To my surprise, they were all from Rhys Beckett.
I had completely forgotten about him.
[Sasha, Im here. Got here thirty minutes early so you wouldnt have to wait.]
[OMG, I just saw a stray cat trying to get into a trash can. Its seriously agile. Sending you a pic.]
Two hours later.
[Are you here yet?]
[Girls take a little longer to get ready. I get it.]
[I dressed up a bit, too. I look pretty handsome. Heh.]
[Bought your Tiramisu. Waiting for you to come and eat it.]
Another hour later.
[Where are you?]
[Did you decide you didnt want to talk to me?]
[The Tiramisu is going to melt. Im going to eat it for you.]
[Sasha, next time, can I pick the restaurant?]
There were also several missed calls.
[Where are you? Did something happen? Im still here waiting. Text me back when you see this. Just a 1 will do.]
I quickly wiped the rain and tears from my face.
[Sorry, Rhys. An emergency came up at home. Cant make it.]
[Eat the cake for me.]
[Im sorry for making you wait so long.]
I dragged my suitcase down the deserted street, walking aimlessly.
If I opened my mouth right now and asked to crash at his place for the night, he probably wouldnt refuse.
But I couldnt.
A person who throws themselves at you always seems cheap.
Being abandoned by my mentor and ruthlessly cut off by my senior had been humiliating enough.
Willows call came through.
I composed myself, trying to make my voice sound normal.
Hello? Im fine. I just checked into a hotel. King bed, super comfy. Well figure out tomorrow later. Theres always a way out.
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
Sasha, stop pretending. Im across the street from you.
My parents are awful, but Im not. Let me help you.
I turned around.
Willow stood opposite me, holding an umbrella.
She hurried over and thrust a key into my hand.
My dads compensation for being a spineless jerk. Sasha, stand up.
At twenty-four, I should have been full of life, but I felt like a piece of garbage tossed out by the world.
And Willow stood before me, a knight charging through the thorns.
Thank you, my voice caught in my throat.
She snatched my suitcase. Dont be ridiculous. We dont do thank you.
On the way to the apartment, I glanced out the car window and saw someone sitting on a roadside bench.
A half-melted pastry box was resting on his long legs.
He was looking down, motionless, staring at his phone screen.
It was Rhys.
Willows fathers backup apartment hadnt been lived in for a long time and was covered in dust.
I wanted to call a cleaning service, but after checking my meager bank balance, I silently gave up the idea.
Rhys hadnt texted again, but my phone hadnt stopped vibrating from all the notifications.
Once we finished cleaning, Willow had to leave.
I have to go. Cant stay out all night. Call me immediately if you need anything.
I will.
I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "312116" to read the entire book.