The Floating Spoilers Saved Me From The Male Lead

It was Christmas, and I was giving my boyfriend a pair of designer cufflinks—the ten-thousand-dollar kind. In return, he handed me a crumpled, bruised apple.

Just as I was about to unleash the fury I felt welling up inside, a stream of floating text flashed across my vision:

[Don’t look down on it. That’s a Golden Apple; it weighs nearly half a pound.]

[The supporting female character is so tacky, measuring everything by money. She’s nothing like our darling female lead, who is so easygoing and just loves to treat the men around her like her personal pets.]

[Doesn’t anyone else think this little test is lame? That’s the side character’s boyfriend. Why does the female lead get to egg the supporting male character into doing this?]

Reading that, I slowly pulled the cufflinks back into my purse.

If he was so eager to be someone else’s lapdog, I’d simply find a new man.

1

When I hesitated, making no move to take the apple from his hand, the disdain in Blake’s eyes deepened.

Beside him, his female ‘bro,’ Tatum, roared with laughter, slapping him hard on the back.

“See? I told you she wouldn’t take it, but you never believe me. Is this the kind of woman you were willing to break with your family over? You’re losing your touch, bro. Next time you go looking for a woman, run it past your Daddy first.”

Blake didn’t flinch from her physical contact. Instead, he pinched her cheek, smiling. “You’re the smart one, alright? But Daddy? I’m three years older than you. If anyone’s calling anyone ‘Daddy,’ it should be you calling me that.”

Tatum wrapped her hand around his arm and pretended to bite down, asking with mock ferocity, “Who’s Daddy?”

Blake’s smile was painfully indulgent. “Fine, fine. You’re Daddy. Now, let go. I don’t want to get your germs on me. Gross.”

Tatum looked genuinely upset. She let out a heavy huff. “You’re grossed out by my spit? We used to share ice cream cones, one bite for you, one for me. You used to steal the part of the apple I’d already bitten! Now you have a girlfriend, and you’re drawing a line? You are such a disloyal dog of a man.”

The word “girlfriend” seemed to snap Blake back to reality. He looked up at me. Seeing my expressionless face, he frowned and said, “Don’t overthink this. Tatum and I go way back. We’ve always just been friends.”

Tatum glanced at me, then interjected, “More than just friends. We almost got engaged back in the day, but I was young and foolish. I didn’t want to be tied down to marriage, so I ran away. I hid out overseas for seven or eight years. I only came back when I heard he finally had a girlfriend.”

The words dripped with calculated venom.

Even Blake, for all his indulgence, had to push back. “Don’t say things that will make her misunderstand. We were never engaged. That was strictly a joke between our grandfathers.”

Tatum’s face instantly darkened. She was clearly trying to cement her image as the mythic ex, the ‘one that got away,’ combined with the casual ‘bro’ persona, and her lapdog had just debunked it, leaving her scrambling.

I couldn’t bear to watch their little dance any longer. I stood up, ready to leave.

Blake grabbed my hand, offering the apple again. “I shouldn’t have played that trick on you. This was supposed to be a surprise. Just take it. Feel how heavy it is.”

The floating comments reappeared.

[Why did the supporting male character suddenly use his words? The female lead’s plan was for her to end up with the golden apple. Did she just speak too much and ruin it?]

[The female lead has to step on other people to be the group’s darling. Does anyone actually like this personality?]

[That engagement thing was a total lie spread by the female lead. It never happened. She actually fled the country because she lost a massive amount of money gambling.]

[It was during that gambling incident that the female lead lost herself to the male lead, kicking off their tormented, dramatic romance.]

My gaze fell from the commentary feed to Blake’s face. His light smile still suggested the man who loved me, but his pathetic “test” was a needle, piercing bone and flesh, an ever-present, agonizing sting.

The fact that he let the words of a woman who had previously duped him make him question my feelings meant he cared deeply for Tatum and trusted her implicitly.

I didn’t need a man who ate from my bowl while thinking about the treats in his pocket.

“Keep this kind of surprise for someone else.”

I yanked my hand away, turned, and walked out.

Blake stared after me, stunned. He instinctively moved to follow and explain, but Tatum blocked him.

“Don’t indulge her. This is how women get spoiled.”

Her voice was not lowered in the slightest. It was clearly meant for me.

2

I took a deep breath, stopped, and walked back. My hand snapped out, the sound of the slap echoing off her cheek.

“Stop with the basic, manipulative, mean-girl BS! You egged Blake on to give me a bruised apple to test if I was a gold-digger, and when I got mad, he was supposed to produce a golden one to confirm that I am greedy. Well, I’m not playing your game. A man is just a man. If he’s rotten, you toss him and get a new one.”

Blake, who had been enraged by my hitting Tatum, instantly softened when he heard my words. He scrambled to explain, “That’s not it, Sienna. Tatum was just being playful. She just wanted to see your face when you got the apple…”

Smack.

I slapped him across the face with my backhand.

“I only hit this bitch, I forgot to slap the idiot who was helping her! Are you just a mindless fool who only knows how to drool? This woman destroyed three years of our relationship with a few words, and you’re still trying to roll over and fetch for your master! Get lost. I’m sick just looking at you.”

I was shaking with rage. Three years of my life, fed to a dog. Anyone would be furious.

A group of people stood nearby, watching the spectacle.

They were all mutual acquaintances.

Every single face was a mask of shock.

It turned out Tatum hadn’t just encouraged Blake to give me unequal gifts; she had invited people from our shared social circle to witness my “gold-digger” moment firsthand, hoping to alienate me from everyone.

She was truly vicious.

It had taken me three years to fully integrate into Blake’s circle, and she wanted to destroy all that effort with a few sentences.

I could walk away from Blake, but the network I had built? I wouldn’t give that up.

With that thought, I stopped shouting and turned to leave for good.

As I walked out the door, my friend Kylie called.

“Babe, are you okay? Someone in the group chat sent a video. They said Blake and his ex, Tatum—the one he still measures everyone else against—ganged up on you. They tried to play a trick, using a cheap apple as a gift, and then tried to stop you from being angry, otherwise, they’d call you a gold-digger.”

I felt the sting of betrayal all over again. “I guess people really do change on a dime. Blake used to kneel outside his parents’ house for a day and a night so they wouldn’t give me a hard time about us. That was only three years ago. Now, he’ll treat me like a clown just to make his mythic ex happy. Which version of him was the real one?”

Listening to me sob, Kylie fell silent.

After a long moment, she finally spoke. “He loved you, that’s true. But that love cannot withstand meeting Tatum. It shatters too easily.”

The implication was clear: between me and Tatum, Blake would always choose the latter.

I raised my head, forcing the tears back.

Crying over that man wasn’t worth the effort.

To distract me, Kylie invited me to her family’s party that evening.

There was a gift exchange planned. I repackaged the high-end cufflinks I hadn’t given Blake, planning to give them to a more deserving soul.

That night.

The party was in full swing in the villa’s garden.

Kylie had set up a large fire pit, and people were already dancing and mingling. The atmosphere was lively.

When I arrived, Kylie grabbed me, pulling me mysteriously into a secluded corner.

I started to ask what was going on, but she clapped a hand over my mouth, signaling me to watch the unfolding drama.

Not far away, two socialites were bullying a young woman.

That was my first impression.

The woman was crying, saying, “I’ll pay back what I owe you, I promise. Just give me a little more time.”

The taller socialite slapped her across the face and sneered, “You lying tramp! You think we don’t know…”

Suddenly, a man appeared, gripping the socialite’s wrist so hard that her face twisted in pain.

“Bullying someone back here? I’m recording this. If you don’t want a scene, get lost.”

The man threatened them.

The socialites instinctively wanted to fight back, but this wasn’t their house. A public incident wouldn’t be good for their reputation. They gritted their teeth and backed down.

Before leaving, they glared fiercely at the woman on the ground.

The scene played out like a classic trope: the wicked side characters harassing the heroine, and the hero rushing in for the rescue.

And, in fact, it was.

The woman was Tatum.

3

The comments section lit up again.

[Is this Male Lead Number Three? He knows the female lead owes a huge debt to others, yet he shields her. He ends up getting run over by a car for his troubles.]

[The female lead deliberately provoked those two side characters, waiting for the male lead to come and save the day, but it was Male Lead Number Three who showed up. The real male lead saw this and walked right past, and the female lead probably hates him now.]

[Next, watch the female lead train her new dog. I love this ‘sweet on the outside, dark on the inside’ persona.]

Once the bullies were gone, Tatum quickly wiped her tears. Her eyes were full of contempt for the man who had interfered, but that didn’t stop her from standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his.

The man was clearly taken aback by the kiss, his body freezing up.

Tatum seemed even more delighted by his reaction, and she lingered, refusing to let go.

I noticed Kylie quickly typing a text message and sending it.

Less than thirty seconds later, a beautiful girl rushed over.

Seeing the kiss, the girl shrieked, darted forward, grabbed a handful of Tatum’s hair, and dragged her out into the open.

“You filthy slut! Earlier today you tried to sabotage my brother and his girlfriend, getting him laughed at by everyone in our circle, and now you’re trying to hook up with my boyfriend! Any man you see, you have to get your hands on! Don’t think I don’t know about your mother trying to seduce my father—you two are a pair of low-class trash!”

The girl was Charlotte, Blake’s biological sister.

Tatum was not some secret heiress. She was the daughter of the nanny/housekeeper. Her mother had once saved Blake’s father, and the favor had been passed down to Tatum, giving her the chance to attend the same schools as the Blake siblings, from elementary school right up to college and even her time abroad, all financed by Blake’s father.

Strangely, the outside world was always led to believe she was a mysterious young heiress staying with the family.

The Blake family never corrected the rumors, partly because Blake was so devoted to her, and partly because of the life-saving favor her mother had done for their father.

Charlotte’s scream drew everyone’s attention.

The music abruptly cut out.

Charlotte was not one to be intimidated. She raised her hand and slapped Tatum across the face.

The next second, her arms were seized and held tight by two men.

One was her fiancé, Grant.

The other was her own brother, Blake.

Blake had arrived, too.

Seeing the two people closest to her restraining her, Charlotte’s composure snapped. She struggled fiercely to break free, yelling in disbelief, “You’re protecting a promiscuous tramp? What am I to you people?”

She had always been composed. When the family’s shady secrets were exposed and reporters hounded her, she had maintained her dignity even in the worst circumstances.

But now, she was being driven to madness by the two people she loved and trusted most.

Grant frowned, his face a picture of annoyance at her loss of control. “Can you stop this? You look like a lunatic. It’s embarrassing.”

Blake looked completely displeased. “We’re at someone else’s house. Can you stop humiliating the family, Charlotte?”

Charlotte trembled with rage. The onlookers were staring at her like she was a circus sideshow, making her feel utterly mortified.

Splash!

A cascade of red wine was poured all over Charlotte.

Tatum had done it.

Banking on her two new bodyguards, Tatum’s arrogance was on full display. After pouring the wine, she sneered, “If you hate me so much, why don’t you just go kill yourself?”

Charlotte was wearing a strapless chiffon dress. The red wine soaked her top half, making her practically exposed.

4

I had only intended to be a spectator, but at this point, I could no longer stand it. I strode forward, swift and precise, and delivered another stinging slap to Tatum’s face.

As the sharp sound echoed across the silent garden, I ripped off my jacket and covered Charlotte, whispering, “Don’t cry. Crying in front of people who don’t deserve your tears only makes them laugh harder.”

Charlotte and I weren’t close friends, but we had always been cordial, so she was willing to listen to me.

She clutched the jacket, violently wiping the tears from her face.

When she looked up again, her eyes were resolute. She grabbed the nearest bottle of red wine and poured the entire thing over Tatum’s head.

Tatum shrieked, trying to attack us.

Kylie signaled to a nearby server, and immediately, two staff members rushed over to hold Tatum down, allowing Charlotte to drench her without hindrance.

The bottle was emptied quickly. Blake hadn’t even had time to intervene. Seeing Tatum completely soaked, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. Then, he spun around and glared at us. “You two ganging up on Tatum like this is absolutely beyond the pale.”

Charlotte ignored him. She turned to her fiancé, Grant, and said, “We’re done. Don’t bother with the engagement party next month.”

Grant frowned. “What are you trying to pull now?”

Charlotte had been the one to pursue him, so he didn’t believe for a second that she would really let him go.

Charlotte pulled out her phone and made a call.

“Mom, Dad, I’m calling off the engagement. Send the notification to our friends and family right now. I’ll handle the media myself. Also, I know I said I wouldn’t get involved in the fight for the family inheritance, but I’m joining the competition now. I’d rather fight for control than leave the family to a blockhead who can’t tell right from wrong.”

Charlotte was no delicate flower. She was an intelligent, capable woman who had simply been blinded by the illusion of family and love.

A small smile touched my lips. I was genuinely pleased to witness Charlotte’s transformation.

Grant instantly panicked and started desperately trying to talk to Charlotte.

She didn’t even look at him, turning and walking away.

Grant chased after her.

Left standing there, Blake finally processed what had happened and rounded on me. “Did you encourage Charlotte? She was never this spiteful. Now she’s dumping the man she loved for seven or eight years and trying to grab power—she’s completely changed. Just because we had a disagreement, you’re turning your spite on my family and trying to drive a wedge between us! Tatum was right, I never saw your true colors.”

I rolled my eyes. The sarcasm was thick. “T-a-t-u-m w-a-s r-i-g-h-t. If you listen to her so much, why didn’t you go kill yourself? That’s what she just told your sister to do.”

Blake froze.

At that moment, the music started up again.

The atmosphere became even livelier than before. Having watched a magnificent drama unfold, the crowd was now singing, dancing, and trading gossip contentedly.

Feeling tired, I headed toward the buffet for a snack. When I looked up, the comments section was back in full force.

[The side character is hogging the screen time! The female lead planned all of this just to get the male lead’s attention, and now the male lead is completely focused on the side character.]

[Who is the male lead, anyway? Such a mystery. Is he some high-society big shot?]

[Haha, you’ll never guess. The male lead is a dealer—a croupier—who is also a small-time enforcer for a dark operation.]

[So, this is a Nanny’s Daughter * Black Market Dealer romance?]

[The climax is coming soon. The female lead is about to do something shocking to get the male lead’s attention, and he’ll even cover for her.]

5

Reading that, my guard instantly went up.

To avoid being vulnerable, I deliberately walked closer to the main fire pit. As my steps quickened, I sensed a shadow behind me.

Before I could turn, that person slammed into me. The massive fire pit, three or four meters high, was directly ahead.

In the firelight, I saw the motion of the attacker’s shoulder. In a split second, I crouched down low.

The attacker, using all her momentum, hurled herself right into the fire pit.

The fire pit, due to the collision, tumbled over with a crash.

The whole thing happened too fast. People only had time to dodge; no one realized there was a person inside the flames.

I stared at the human figure engulfed in the roaring fire. Her hair quickly burned off, and a heavy log had landed across her thigh, pinning her down. Even calling for help was difficult.

My scalp prickled with pure horror. If I hadn’t seen the comments, if I hadn’t been vigilant, the person trapped in that inferno would have been me.

“H-help… help me…”

Finally, someone realized Tatum was in the fire.

It took only three minutes, but Tatum was pulled out.

Even so, her scalp was severely burned and pitted. Her clothes had melted and stuck to her skin, making it impossible to distinguish which was her skin and which was the charred fabric.

Kylie cursed the bad luck and immediately had people rush Tatum to the hospital.

Before being taken away, Tatum pointed at me and weakly fabricated her lie: “It… it was her… she pushed me… into the fire…”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she passed out.

The party ended abruptly, and I became the center of all the suspicion.

Blake, who had left earlier to go home and pacify Charlotte, returned after getting a call that I had pushed Tatum into the fire.

I ran right into him at the main gate.

He stormed out of his car, his face consumed by fire, grabbed my arm, and roared, “Are you crazy? Why would you do that to Tatum? Just because she provoked you, you had to ruin her life? You are truly malicious!”

Too much had happened tonight. Having to deal with a man behaving like a rabid dog was the last straw, and I erupted. “You know what? If your damn eyes are useless, donate them! She came looking for trouble, trying to push me in! I dodged, she couldn’t stop her momentum, and she slammed herself into the fire pit! She got what she deserved!”

Blake suddenly became frighteningly calm. He stared straight into my eyes and asked, “It really wasn’t you?”

His gaze was deadly serious, as if to say, It better not be you, or I won’t spare you, even if you are my girlfriend.

In that moment, I felt profound sorrow for the past version of myself who had loved him so deeply.

When I met Blake, he was suffering from severe Bipolar Disorder and depression. Even his parents were close to giving up on him.

I was a senior in college, working as a caregiver at a treatment center to save money for grad school. Blake was my patient.

When I first met him, I felt sorry for him—so young, confined to a facility for two years, rarely visited by his family. As time went on, I felt sorry for myself—having to deal with a person who threw violent tantrums and was constantly suicidal.

Our relationship changed during a severe rainstorm. I was mugged on my way home from work. After taking my money, the thugs turned predatory. As I fought for my life, Blake appeared and saved me.

He took my phone and repeatedly smashed it onto the thugs’ heads.

The men were left unconscious and barely breathing.

I wasn’t afraid of that violent side of Blake.

It was the first time he hadn’t seen fear in another person’s eyes, and it greatly relieved his psychological burden.

After that, he proactively engaged in treatment, and his condition slowly stabilized.

He once told me that he was lucky to have met me; otherwise, he would never have been able to live in the light.

He said I was his salvation.

Yet now, he was looking at me with cold, sinister eyes. I knew he was struggling to restrain himself from hitting me.

I forced a bitter smile and decided to draw a line under our relationship.

“We’re breaking up.”