Swipe Left on Billionaires

The day Preston Vance cheated on me, the system told me to find a new man immediately.

I looked at the profile of the underground fighter on the screen and licked my lips.

Men. Out with the old, in with the new.

Preston hadn't been home in three days.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my walk-in closet, staring at my reflection.

Upturned eyes. A straight nose. Flawless, glowing skin.

The first time Preston saw this face, he stared for ten straight seconds without blinking.

But now, three days had passed without a single text.

Chapter 1

I sighed. Not because I missed him. But because he might have forgotten to wire my monthly allowance!

My phone rang. It was my frenemy, Madison.

"Tori! What are you doing?"

"Looking in the mirror," I said.

Madison paused for two seconds. "You are the most narcissistic person I have ever met."

"It's called self-appreciation." I winked at my reflection. "You wouldn't understand."

"Right, right, you're the prettiest. Anyway, how have you been? Didn't your man say he was taking you to the Maldives? Did you go?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I thought about it. "He said he was busy."

"Busy?" Madison's voice went up an octave. "Busy with what? Busy making money for you?"

"Probably."

"So what are you doing right now?"

"Waiting for him to bring that money home so I can spend it."

Madison fell silent again. After a moment, she spoke. "Tori, you really don't have a care in the world."

Did I not care? I didn't think so. I just knew my place.

I was a woman with nothing but good looks, so I had to rely on my husband. Basically, a trophy wife.

Preston wanted my face, and I wanted his money. It was a fair trade.

Until that night.

Preston came home.

I was lounging on the sofa with a face mask on. I heard the door click open but didn't even lift my eyelids.

He changed his shoes, walked right past me, and didn't say a word.

I caught a whiff of perfume clinging to him. It wasn't mine.

The next morning, I noticed he had put a passcode on his phone. He used to leave it unlocked everywhere.

On the third day, he announced he had to go on a business trip. He used to give me a week's notice. This time, it was entirely last-minute.

On the fourth day, Madison invited me out for afternoon tea.

"Tori! You look pale! What's wrong?"

I rested my chin in my hand and listed off all the red flags from the past few days.

Madison's eyes widened. She slammed her hand on the table.

"Holy shit! Victoria! Is he cheating on you?!"

Everyone in the cafe turned to stare at us.

I covered my face. "Can you keep your voice down"

"Keep it down? Why should I?" Her face flushed red with outrage.

Chapter 2

"I'm telling you, the second a man locks his phone, he's guilty! The second he takes a last-minute trip, he's guilty! The second he comes home smelling like perfume, he is guilty!"

"What if he's really just busy with work"

"Busy my ass!" She pulled out her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen.

"I'm sending you the contact for a private investigator. Look into it! I just texted you his cell number. Tell him Maddie sent you, you'll get 20 percent off!"

I stared at the digital contact card. The profile picture was a magnifying glass. I hesitated for three seconds. Then, I added him.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Preston. I just wanted some peace of mind. Just a little.

Three days later, I met the private investigator at a cafe.

He slid a manila envelope across the table. His expression was grim. "Victoria, you might want to brace yourself."

I opened the envelope. The first photo. Preston's car. A woman in a white dress sat in the passenger seat.

The second photo. The woman leaning over to kiss his cheek.

The third photo. The two of them walking into a hotel together.

Fourth, fifth, sixth I flipped through the photos, one by one.

The investigator watched my face carefully. "Victoria are you alright?"

I looked up. I asked a question that left him stunned. "Is this woman pretty?"

"Huh?" He stared at me. "I mean she's pretty average."

"What about her body?"

"Also average."

I nodded. A wave of relief washed over me. It seemed Preston just wanted a change of pace. For a second there, I thought global beauty standards had plummeted while I was the only one holding the line.

After the investigator left, I sat alone in the cafe. I flipped through that stack of photos three more times.

Honestly? I felt nothing.

Was Preston good to me? He was. He threw money at me and never let me suffer.

Did I love him? I gave it some serious thought. Not really.

I only got together with him in the first place because the system told me he had male lead potential. Tying myself to him was the only way to guarantee a good life.

Now, after three years of luxury, he was cheating on me.

Should I be sad? I supposed I should be.

But only because "Who is going to pay for my things now?"

Plus, Preston was undeniably good-looking. Built well, too. If I had to find a replacement, could I even find one that hot?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, a long-lost voice echoed in my head.

[DingCurrent male lead Preston Vance's loyalty has dropped below 30%. Judged as: disqualified male lead.]

[Advising host to immediately swap male leads to prevent a decline in quality of life.]

I froze. Then, my eyes lit up. "I can swap him?!"

[Yes, host. The system has scanned all currently available candidates. Sorted by destiny points potential. Please review.]

A translucent panel materialized in front of me. A row of names and photos lined the screen.

Sitting at the number one spot was a man named Julian Carver.

Chapter 3

The man in the photo was in his early twenties. Blood smeared his face, but his eyes were as fierce as a wolf's. Deep-set features. A sharp jawline.

Even the blood couldn't mask the raw, untamed wildness radiating from him.

His file popped up. Underground fighter. Buried in debt. Unemployed.

Current destiny points: extremely low. He was at rock bottom.

[Note: This target's destiny points are currently suppressed. Once activated, his potential is limitless. However, his psychological defenses are extremely high. Difficulty level: Hard.]

I stared at that face. He was even better looking than Preston.

Hot. A high-potential stock. Time to buy the dip.

"Where is he right now?"

[Location sent to host's phone.]

I stood up, grabbed my purse, and tossed that stack of cheating photos straight into the trash.

Preston who? Who cares. I was going to buy the dip.

I followed the GPS to an abandoned industrial park on the outskirts of the city. The route ended in front of a dilapidated warehouse. Surrounded by ruined factories. The ground was so potholed I nearly twisted my ankle in my heels.

A few luxury cars were parked out front, jarring against the grime.

Deafening cheers echoed from inside the warehouse. An underground fighting ring.

I pushed the doors open. Thick smoke burned my eyes. A sea of bodies. In the center sat a steel cage.

Gamblers crowded the chainlink, waving cash, screaming like bloodthirsty beasts.

Two men were locked in a brutal brawl inside the cage. I spotted Julian Carver immediately.

Shirtless. Muscles carved out of stone. Dripping with sweat and blood. His opponent was a full size bigger, but Julian launched himself forward like a madman.

His fists slammed into the other guy's face. Again and again.

Crack.

One final punch. The massive guy crumpled to the mat. He didn't get back up.

Julian won. He stood in the center of the cage, chest heaving, his gaze sweeping over the frenzied crowd. No joy. Only exhaustion and pure, biting apathy.

Looking at him, one phrase crossed my mind. A wolf in the gutter.

I planned to wait for him to come out. But he never did.

I had to wait until the matches ended to tail him. I followed him down a dark alley. A few dozen yards in, muffled grunts and the sickening thud of boots hitting flesh cut through the silence.

I peeked around the corner. A group of men had Julian surrounded.

He had drained all his energy in the cage. He couldn't fight back. He curled into a ball on the filthy concrete, arms protecting his head, as they viciously kicked him.

One of the men crouched down and yanked him up by the hair. "Who the fuck told you to win? Do you know how much money I put on you to lose?"

Julian didn't say a word. He just stared dead at the man with those chilling wolf eyes.

The guy visibly flinched. He slammed a fist right into Julian's face.

"Enough," another man muttered. "If he dies, it's gonna be a problem."

They landed a few more brutal kicks, cursed, and finally walked away.

The alley fell dead silent. Julian lay motionless on the ground.

I stood at the mouth of the alley, staring at the blood pooling around him. My mind raced.

If I saved him right now, he wouldn't necessarily be grateful. Isn't the rule that men despise the women who see them at their absolute lowest?

Chapter 4

But what if he died? Would his destiny points reset to zero?

Forget it. I would take a gamble.

I took a deep breath, charged forward in my heels, and crouched beside him. "Hey! Are you alive?"

He didn't move.

I reached out and checked his breathing. Yeah. Still breathing.

I was just about to dial 911 when his eyes snapped open.

Those eyes glared in the dim light like a feral wolf. Vicious. Guarded. Not a single trace of vulnerability.

He stared at me. His voice scraped out like rough sandpaper. "Who are you?"

"I" A jolt went through me under that intense stare. "Just passing by."

"Passing by?" He sneered. Blood trickled down his chin.

"A woman like you. In a place like this. Passing by?"

He tried to push himself up. He collapsed halfway. He didn't even have the strength to stand. But those eyes stayed dead locked on me.

One wrong move and he would lunge forward and snap my neck.

"Don't move," I pinned him down by the shoulder. "I am taking you to the hospital."

"No need." He slapped my hand away. "Get lost."

"What is wrong with you." I let out a dry laugh of pure annoyance. "I am trying to save you, and you tell me to get lost?"

He kept his mouth shut. He propped his hands on the filthy concrete and dragged himself backward inch by inch. His back hit the brick wall. He stopped, panting hard.

Blood ran down his forehead. It coated half his face. But his eyes never left me.

That wasn't gratitude. It was pure defense. Vigilance. The raw instinct of a cornered animal treating everyone as a mortal enemy.

I stared at him. The system's warning about his extremely high psychological defenses finally made sense.

"Fine," I stood up. "If you won't let me help, I am leaving. Just lie here and wait for the next batch of thugs to finish the job."

I could always find a different prospect. I spun around on my heels and walked away.

Three steps later. His voice rasped from behind me. "Wait."

I stopped. I didn't look back.

"Why are you saving me?" He still sounded like grinding sandpaper. But the hostility was gone.

I turned around. I met his gaze.

I could have spun a beautiful, touching lie right then. I could have said I couldn't bear to see people suffer. Or that I didn't think he deserved to die in a gutter. Blah, blah, blah.

But looking into those feral eyes, the fake words died in my throat.

I walked over, crouched down, looked into his eyes, and said very seriously,

"Because you are gorgeous. It would be a damn waste if you died