The Brat & Her Simp

Forget it. I don't want the bag anymore.

Why not? Donovan's voice dropped, dark and heavy. Did some other guy buy it for you?

Excuse me?

I am Blair Wen. The heiress. I am high maintenance. I am difficult. I take up all the air in the room.

I thought our arranged marriage had pushed Donovan to his limit. I thought I finally broke him. But the moment I tried to fix my temper, he went crazy.

Ashley always says, "Only Donovan could handle a brat like you."

But I know the truth.

This man is obsessed with my crazy.

Chapter 1

Before Donovan left for his business trip abroad, I made sure he knew his priorities.

"Donovan, I sent the picture to your phone. Do not forget to buy it."

It was the newest release from my favorite brand. Not even sold in the States yet.

"Mmh."

I narrowed my eyes at his non-committal noise. "Are you even listening to me?"

"I heard you." Donovan sighed. It was the sound of a man surrendering. "I will bring it back."

"Good." I smiled, satisfied. "Hurry back."

He was gone for two weeks. I spent those two weeks harassing him.

"Donovan, when are you coming back? I miss you so much. Bring my bag."

Thirty minutes passed. No reply.

I started spamming angry emojis. "Why are you so slow? Are you hooking up with some foreign model?"

Ten minutes later, a reply popped up. His tone was resigned. "Blair, it is 4 AM here."

I paused. Right. Time zones.

"Then why are you awake?" I typed back.

"Your texts woke me up."

I found the loophole immediately. I went on the offensive. "That sounds like a you problem. Why is your phone not on silent? Go back to sleep! I am going to keep texting, so mute your phone!"

"Okay."

He didn't argue. He didn't tell me to stop. He just accepted it. He prioritized my noise over his sleep.

I kept typing away. Ashley leaned over my shoulder and read the chat history. She shook her head. "Wow. I don't know how he puts up with you."

I scoffed. "Please. There was a line of guys waiting to get engaged to me. Donovan got lucky. He should be celebrating."

I am the daughter of the Wen family. I have money. I have looks. If I have a flaw, it is my temper. But even with my attitude, the marriage proposals piled up like a mountain.

Mom and Dad handed me the tablet. "Take a look, Blair. Anyone catch your eye?"

I swiped. Boring. Ugly. Boring. I stopped at Donovan.

"I like Donovan," Mom said immediately. Deborah was practically glowing. "He is steady. Reliable. Handsome. Why not him?"

He was the best option. The richest. The most handsome. I thought about his usual demeanor. Silent. Cold. He barely looked at me.

I tapped his face on the screen. That face that could rival any movie star. "Fine. Him."

Chapter 2

The marriage between the Shen and Wen families was a done deal. But if anyone was unhappy about it, it was probably Donovan.

For the sake of family interests, he had to tolerate my temper. I was bossy. I was dramatic. I made impossible demands. He took it all.

Sometimes, I looked at him and thought, A man like this could succeed at anything. No wonder the Shen Group flourished under his command. His patience was terrifying.

Donovan was the standard billionaire CEO. Handsome. Rich. Powerful. Naturally, he had admirers.

One day, a text popped up on my phone. "Blair, with a personality like yours, how long do you think Donovan will put up with you?"

I saw red.

I stormed straight to Donovans study. He was reviewing a presentation deck. I didn't care.

I reached over and slammed his laptop shut. Donovan looked up, his expression unreadable. I shoved my phone screen in his face. "Tell me yourself. How long can you tolerate me?"

Donovan read the text. His brows furrowed. He pulled out a pen and wrote down the number. "I will handle it."

"Hurry up!" I snapped. I was running on pure adrenaline and entitlement. "If you don't handle it well, the wedding is off! Save you the trouble of putting up with me!"

Donovans frown deepened. The air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. "Do not say that."

He tried to say more, but I wasn't listening. I turned on my heel and walked out. I slammed the study door so hard the walls shook.

The next evening, Donovan came home. He handed me a thick file. A report. It contained everything. The cause. The effect. The resolution.

"It was the daughter of one of my fathers friends," Donovan reported. His voice was calm, devoid of emotion. "Her father asked me to give her an internship at Shen Group. I arranged a position for her."

He paused, his gaze locking onto mine. "I fired her today. She is permanently banned from entering Shen Group premises."

I flipped through the pages. It was ruthless. Efficient.

"I also spoke to her father," Donovan continued. "I had her allowance cut off for three months."

He held out his phone. "I made her record an apology video. Watch it. If you are not satisfied, I will make her record it again."

The thumbnail showed a girlMadisoncrying her eyes out. Her makeup was running. She looked pathetic.

I didn't even click play. I deleted the message. Then, I focused on the only thing that mattered.

"Where did you get the video? Do you have her on social media?"

"No." Donovan immediately pulled up his chat history and showed me. "I had her father send it to me."

I scanned the chat. It was strictly business. Cold. Distant. I was satisfied.

"Fine. I will let it go this time." But I dragged the word out, narrowing my eyes. "Butthis is the last time. If anything like this happens again, the engagement is off."

"It won't."

His answer was instant. Sharp. Final.

Back then, I was so confident. How long could Donovan tolerate my temper? Who cared? He could tolerate it or leave. I didn't care.

Until

I had a dream.

Chapter 3

Nightmare.

A terrible nightmare. A massive, catastrophic nightmare.

In the dream, I was the villainess of a novel. I was spoiled. I was entitled. I had a devoted fianc, the second male lead, but I treated him like air. Instead, I was obsessively chasing the male lead.

I destroyed the relationship between the main couple. I went down a dark path.

In the end, I got what I deserved.

My family abandoned me. My friends turned their backs. My fianc left me. I was walking on the street, soul-crushed and alone, when a truck slammed into me.

My body jerked awake.

The air conditioner was blasting, freezing the room, but I was burning up. Cold sweat slicked my forehead. Drenched my back.

I sat there for a long time. Gasping. Was that really a dream? It felt too real. The despair of being abandoned. The bone-shattering impact of the truck.

It wasn't just a dream. It was a warning. A premonition.

No. I refused to let that end become my reality. Screw the male lead. He could go to hell.

But my fianc...

In the dream, I had pushed Donovan to his breaking point to get out of the engagement. I saw his face clearly. Donovan looked at me with eyes devoid of warmth. Ice cold.

"Blair, I am so disappointed in you."

Donovan had never looked at me like that. Not once. The memory of that gaze tore through my chest.

My heart seized. It wasn't an abstract feeling. It was a physical grip. Like a giant hand crushing my heart. Squeezing. My throat closed up. I couldn't inhale. Air trapped. Lungs burning.

I didn't know why the reaction was so violent, but I knew one thing. I could not handle Donovan looking at me like that. I physically couldn't survive it.

I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling until dawn broke. With dark circles under my eyes, I made a decision.

I was turning over a new leaf. I was going to fix this rotten temper. I would not let Donovan be disappointed in me.

I was going to save my own life.

I acted on it immediately. Usually, I spammed Donovan with trash texts 24/7. I didn't care if he was in a meeting or sleeping. If he replied slow, I threw a tantrum. But today, I forced my hand to stop.

My fingers itched. I stared at the screen. I comforted myself. Its fine. Its fine. Donovan is coming back in a few days anyway.

I held out until nightfall. I thought, Its been almost a whole day. Sending one or two texts is fine, right? He couldn't be annoyed by just a few texts.

Just as my resolve crumbled and I was about to type, a message popped up.

Donovan.

I blinked. I was shocked. Usually, I was the one bombarding him. He rarely initiated, and when he did, it was brief.

Donovan: "Is your phone broken?"

Blair: "?"

Blair: "No."

Donovan didn't reply.

Chapter 4

His message was weird. No context. Just a question. But I didn't think too much about it. My thumbs went into autopilot.

Tap. Tap. Send.

Before I knew it, I had unleashed a barrage of texts. I stared at the screen. It was a wall of blue bubbles. My messages. Only my messages.

Regret washed over me instantly. Blair, you have zero self-control. Why couldn't you just hold back?

It took Donovan nearly twenty minutes to reply.

Donovan: "Sorry. Emergency meeting. Didn't have time to respond."

If this were the old days, I would have gone nuclear. I would have dissected that excuse and found a way to make it his fault.

But not today. Today, I was desperate to show off my newfound benevolence. I was the understanding fiance.

Blair: "Oh, totally fine! Just reply when youre free!"

I waited.

And waited.

Donovan didn't reply.

My "understanding fiance" persona died a quick, violent death.

My internal monologue screamed. Seriously? Donovan? Another emergency meeting? Do you only have meetings the second I start talking?

The phone buzzed. Incoming Video Call: Donovan.

I answered. My scowl was already fixed in place. "What?"

Donovan didn't speak immediately. The camera lens focused on his eyes. They were dark. Intense.

He wasn't looking at my face. He was scanning. His gaze moved past my shoulder. He scrutinized the wall behind me. The empty space on the couch. The shadows in the corner of the room.

He was checking the perimeter.

"Are you alone?" he asked. His voice was low. Rough.

"Yeah. Obviously." I frowned, confused by the intensity of his stare. "Why are you asking?"

He didn't answer. He just kept looking. He checked the background again. Only when he was absolutely certain that no one else was in my territory did his shoulders relax.

"I have something to say," he said. "Unless there is a literal emergency, I reply the second I see your message."

I scoffed. "Talk is cheap." I didn't believe him for a second. "I don't want to talk anymore. You are dismissed."

I didn't wait for his reaction. Click. I hung up.

I tossed the phone onto the bed. Then, I froze. Wait. Something was wrong.

Wasn't I supposed to be turning over a new leaf? Wasn't I supposed to be fixing my attitude? I just acted like a total brat again.

I had known Donovan for a long time. Our families ran in the same circles. We were acquaintances. Not friends. Definitely not close.

Until senior year of high school. The year of the Senior Prom.

Back then, I had a nemesis. Mallory. Mallory was annoying. She competed with me over everything. Grades. Clothes. Breathing air.

Prom was the ultimate battlefield. The most important weapon in this war was the date. My brain scanned the available options. One name popped up.

Donovan.

I didn't overthink it. I intercepted him on his way home from school. I blocked his path. "Donovan. Be my date."

He stopped. He looked at me, genuinely confused. "Me? Why?"

"Simple math." I tossed my hair over my shoulder. "I am the most beautiful girl in school. You are the most handsome guy in school."

I looked him dead in the eye. "It is basically a law of nature. We have to go together."

Donovan was silent. He stared at me for a few seconds, processing the sheer weight of my narcissism. "I can't dance," he said finally.

It sounded like a polite rejection. A normal person would have backed off. I didn't get the hint.

"Then you better start learning," I said. "You don't have much time."

Chapter 5

"Well? Yes or no?"

I was losing patience. Donovan looked down at me. He seemed to be calculating the pros and cons.

A few seconds ticked by.

"Okay."

"Really?" My eyes lit up. Then, I remembered my nemesis. I put on my serious face. "By the way, if Mallory asks you later, you have to reject her. Immediately. And when you reject her, tell her you are already taking the most beautiful girl in school. Got it?"

"I can't say that," Donovan said.

"Why not?"

"Because I already rejected her. She won't ask again."

I blinked. "She already asked you?"

He nodded.

"Good job." I gave him a thumbs-up. "You have excellent taste."

Donovan chuckled softly.

I thought we were set. I was wrong. The first waltz practice was a disaster. We had zero chemistry. Donovan was slow. Clumsy. He stepped on my feet twice.

I looked down at my brand-new heels. "Aren't you supposed to be the valedictorian? Why are you learning so slow?"

"Sorry. I will buy you a new pair." His voice was low. Apologetic. "Let me practice more."

Second practice. He didn't stomp on me, but he moved like a robot.

I wasn't having it. "Donovan, how are we supposed to shine like this? If you don't get this right, I am finding a new partner."

"Next time." It was the fastest he had ever spoken. "I will get it."

Third practice. He kept his promise. We finished the waltz perfectly.

"Wow." I was genuinely impressed. "You are actually good."

"You are good too," he said.

"Obviously."

I thought we were locked in. Then, a few days before prom, disaster struck. I missed a step on the stairs. I twisted my ankle. Hard.

Mallory sent a text immediately. It was dripping with fake sympathy and real mockery. I was furious. I locked myself in my room. I refused to eat.

A knock sounded at the door. I buried my face in the pillow. "Eat without me. I'm not hungry."

"Blair." It was Deborah's voice. "Donovan is here."

Then, his voice came through the wood. Deep. Calm. "Blair. It's me."

I hobbled to the door but didn't unlock it. "What are you doing here?" I yelled through the panel. "I sent you a text. My ankle is busted. I can't dance. Go find another partner!"

"Really?" Donovan asked. "So I should go find someone else?"

I screamed internally. Donovan, you jerk! You agreed that fast? You scumbag!

But my mouth had a mind of its own. "Yes! Seriously! Go!"

Chapter 6

"Okay. I will go ask Mallory then."

I ripped the door open. "Don't you dare."

"I wouldn't." Donovan stepped past me into the room. He moved with a fluid, easy confidence. "Are you really skipping prom? I thought the plan was to outshine everyone."

I hopped on one leg to my desk and collapsed into the chair. I pointed accusingly at my ankle. It was swollen. Angry. Purple.

"Look at this. How am I supposed to shine? I look like a wounded duck. They will laugh at me."

"No. They won't."

I looked up. His face was completely blank. Serious.

"Didn't you say it yourself?" He lowered his eyes, locking onto mine. "I'm the most beautiful girl in school. You're the most handsome guy."

His voice was calm. Frighteningly steady. "We just have to show up. That is enough to blind them."

He spoke so quietly, but inside my head, it sounded like someone was beating a war drum. My brain felt dizzy.

I stared at him. "You're right."

And he was. The night of the prom, he didn't just walk me in. He supported my weight. We stood at the entrance. The moment we stepped across the threshold, the air in the ballroom changed.

The chatter died.

It wasn't just an entrance. It was an arrival.

Donovan was the center of gravity, and I was the only thing tethered to him. The lights seemed to bend toward us. Every single pair of eyes locked onto our silhouette. It was absolute, unapologetic dominance.

We didn't need to dance. We just needed to exist in that space.

I saw Mallory in the corner. Her face was twisted. She looked like she was choking on glass.

I won.

After that night, things shifted. We weren't friends, exactly. But the distance between us shrank.

I started bossing him around. I made him wait in thirty-minute lines to buy me specific Napoleon cakes. I hijacked his study halltime he should have spent maintaining his valedictorian statusand forced him to beat impossible levels on Candy Crush.

Donovan never said no. He didn't look happy about it, either. He was a man of few words. Stoic. Reliable.

I used to watch his side profile while he focused his genius-level brain on matching candy gems. Who is going to marry this boring stick in the mud? I wondered.

I never imagined the answer would be me.

Because Donovan was so reliable, I had been on my best behavior during his business trip. I didn't nag him about the bag. I didn't drop hints.

I told myself: It's fine. Donovan is smart. He remembers.

I was wrong. He didn't bring the bag. But I didn't know that yet.

The day he came back, I was vibrating with anticipation. I wanted to text him every ten minutes. Are you here? Are you here yet? I held back.

Then, I heard the front door click open. I was lying on my bed, scrolling through TikTok. I didn't even put on slippers. I flew off the mattress and sprinted down the stairs.

"Donovan!"

He was dragging a suitcase into the foyer. He looked up as I shouted.

"You're finally back!"

"Mmh." His gaze dropped instantly to the floor. "Why are you barefoot?"

I looked down at my toes curling against the cold marble. "I forgot," I said, breathless. "I heard your voice and just ran."

Chapter 7

He walked over to the shoe cabinet. He pulled out a pair of slippers and walked back to me. He crouched down. He slid them onto my cold feet.

"The floor is cold. Do not get sick."

"Okay." I chirped.

I spread my hands out. Palms up. I wiggled my fingers. I stared at him with wide, expectant eyes. Donovan is a genius. He knew exactly what this gesture meant. Gimme.

But Donovan froze. His expression went rigid.

"?"

I was confused. My eyes darted to his luggage. He had a few small paper bags in his hand. Probably duty-free chocolates. Souvenirs. That meant the bag was in the suitcase.

I stepped around him. I grabbed the handle of his suitcase and shoved it flat onto the floor.

"Blair." His voice sounded behind me. It was tight. Strained. "Listen to me."

I didn't listen. I punched in the code. My birthday.

Click.

I threw the lid open. I stared at the contents. Clothes. Files. Toiletries.

No bag.

I blinked. I looked again. Nothing.

I looked up at Donovan. "Where is my bag?"

For the first time ever, I saw a crack in his perfect armor. He looked... guilty. He reached down and gripped my arm.

"Stand up. The floor is cold."

He pulled me up and guided me to the sofa. He sat me down. I crossed my arms. I gave him my best I am waiting for your excuse glare.

"I was buried in work." He crouched down in front of me. He forced himself to look me in the eye. "I didn't get to the store until the last day. The clerk told me the last one sold the day before."

He swallowed hard. He looked nervous. "I had them transfer stock from another city. It should be here in two days."

He pressed his lips together. He was watching my face, waiting for the nuclear explosion.

Honestly? I was disappointed. Crushed, actually. I could have bought the bag myself. I have money. I could buy the whole store. I wanted him to buy it.

It was the proof. Proof that I mattered. Proof that he cared.

The old Blair would have screamed. I would have thrown a vase. I would have ignored him for two days.

But then the nightmare flashed in my mind. The truck. The blood. The cold, dead eyes of everyone I loved.

I shoved the anger down. I forced it into a box and sat on the lid. Do not get angry. Do not be a brat. He didn't mean it.

I took a deep breath. I plastered a fake smile on my face. It felt tight.

"Oh. Okay. It is fine!"

Donovan blinked. He looked like I had just started speaking in tongues.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Totally fine! I don't need it! Whatever. I am furious. I will just find a personal shopper to get it."

I stood up. I turned toward the stairs. I didn't get two steps.

A hand clamped around my wrist. Hard.

I stopped. I looked back. Donovans brows were twisted together. His eyes were dark. Heavy.

"Why don't you need it?" His grip tightened. His thumb pressed into my pulse point. "You don't want what I bought?"

His voice dropped an octave. It was rough. Dangerous. "Or did some other guy buy it for you??"

Chapter 8