Quinn's cousin didn't pay much attention when she first saw Grayson in those tattered clothes—after all, she'd always assumed he'd be a total loser. But the moment her eyes met his, she froze.
It was him?!
For a heartbeat, Quinn's cousin couldn't believe what she was seeing; her whole body went rigid with excitement. Yes, it was him—really him!
"Grayson, all of us are standing, yet you're lounging there like you own the place. Are you completely clueless? Get up now!" Quinn barked, irritated that he hadn't stood to greet them. She'd grown accustomed to using that superior tone with Grayson, and now she felt no need to hold back.
"Relax, relax. You are fine right here," she replied casually.
With a sharp tug, Quinn's cousin yanked Quinn back, clearly signaling her to stop talking—and then she hurriedly took her seat.
Quinn felt a flicker of confusion: What was her cousin doing, pulling her back like that? And why did she seem to be siding with Grayson? She and her cousin were both notorious for turning their noses up at anyone they deemed "poor." Of course—it was obvious now: her cousin was just pretending to be nice to this loser so she could use him somehow. Feeling satisfied with this realization, Quinn relaxed.
"Heh heh. Let me do the introductions," Quinn said, pointing to Grayson as she turned to her cousin. "This is Grayson. He's in his senior year at our university's School of Management. He's quiet, honest—exactly the kind of guy you were talking about liking."
After she said it, Quinn shot a mischievous wink at her cousin, clearly relishing the idea of teasing Grayson. Deep down, she knew her cousin wasn't really into shy, down-to-earth guys—she only cared about wealth, looks, and family background. So Quinn was thrilled at the thought that Grayson would buy every word. "What an idiot," she thought, "He'll fall for it, no question!"
"Grayson, this stunner next to me? That's my cousin. Let me tell you what she does for a living…" Just as Quinn began to introduce her cousin's job, Grayson interrupted.
"Why don't I guess?" he said with a faint smile.
"Ha! Who do you think you are? You think you can guess what my cousin does? If you get it right, I'll bark like a dog right here on the spot!" Quinn scoffed, offended that he had cut her off—and, of course, she didn't believe he could guess correctly.
Grayson paid her no mind; instead, he looked at Quinn's cousin with an air of mock formality. "If I'm not mistaken, you work at a bank."
With those words, Quinn's eyes shot open wide. Seriously? This guy actually guessed it? "How…how did you know?!" Quinn's mind reeled. This was impressive—he'd seen right through her cousin in one glance?
"Ha," Grayson took a sip of his coffee, thinking to himself, I'm not about to tell you the truth. "That's a secret."
"A secret? More like you just got lucky—blind squirrels, nuts, nonsense. Why the posturing?" Quinn snapped back. In her eyes, Grayson had always been a penniless bumpkin, someone born to take orders and be trampled underfoot. Now he'd managed to surprise her? She felt her authority was under attack.
"Quinn, how can you talk like that? You said if he guessed correctly, you'd bark like a dog. Are you going to do it now?" her cousin suddenly interjected.
Quinn froze, stunned. Really? Now her cousin was backing this loser? Yes, in name it was just a fake date arranged for some scheme, but why was her cousin treating him like he was the real deal? Even with a stranger present, her cousin was defending him—had she really come to believe he was her boyfriend?
"Well…" Quinn stammered, caught off-guard. She'd said "bark like a dog" in jest—she never expected him to actually get it right.
"Forget it. It was just for fun. No need to actually follow through," Grayson placated.
"Hmph!" Quinn snorted, unimpressed by his attempt to let her save face. She was seething—this loser had embarrassed her in front of her own cousin. Humiliation flooded her chest.
"All right, let's order some food," her cousin said. The server handed over menus, and Quinn ordered shrimp-and-cheese risotto; her cousin chose a French-style bacon fried rice; and Grayson asked for black-pepper pork diced Italian pasta.
The café was fairly crowded, and after a while, their orders still hadn't arrived. Quinn grew impatient.
"Hey, Grayson, are you planning to just sit there like some pampered kid? Why don't you go nag the staff at the counter?" Quinn snapped. She'd felt bossed around by Grayson earlier, and now here was a chance to vent by commanding him to fetch the food.
"No, no. I'll handle it." Quinn's cousin rose to her feet, looking flustered.
"Ah, cousin, sit down!" Quinn lunged and yanked her cousin back into her seat, pointing at Grayson. "Let him run the errand—he's practically born to be our servant. We can just sit here and talk." Then she barked again, "Hurry up, get going!"
Grayson, used to this queen-of-the-tennis-club attitude, didn't argue; he also needed to use the restroom anyway. So he rose, went to the counter, and asked the waiter to remind the kitchen. Afterwards, he headed to the restroom.
When he walked out of the restroom, he saw a woman standing hesitantly at the entrance of the restroom—it was Quinn's cousin.
"Mr. Cole, I'm so sorry. Quinn can be childish sometimes. I came to apologize to you. I'm truly sorry!" Quinn's cousin looked as if she'd been standing at the door for a while. Now she trembled with genuine contrition; she almost bowed.
"Heh, it's fine. Quinn's the president of our tennis club, and I'm just a member—she's my boss," Grayson smiled, amused by the coincidence. "I didn't expect you to be her cousin."
Quinn's cousin was Emily, a receptionist at Sterling Royce Private Bank. Emily never would have guessed that the boy her cousin had introduced was the same legendary young man everyone had been talking about at the bank that day.
After Grayson had left the bank, countless people had pestered Nate Whitmore, the VIP account manager, for details about Grayson—but Whitmore naturally refused to reveal anything. Even so, rumors spread wildly: some said Grayson was the son of the richest man in town; others said he was the son of a high-ranking official; still others whispered he was the illegitimate child of the president himself. No matter the gossip, everyone agreed on one thing: this kid was unimaginably wealthy.
The one who regretted it most was Emily. Afterward, she regretted it so much she wanted to slap herself—she'd been trying so hard to snag a wealthy second-generation rich kid, and here had been the ultimate catch, yet she'd insulted him repeatedly. How could she have been so blind? If only she'd treated him gently, spoken softly, maybe she'd have made friends with the top-tier heir!
Emily berated herself repeatedly for looking down on people. By then it was too late—she'd already treated Grayson so poorly that if he'd wished to, he could have gotten her fired. But a week passed, and it turned out he'd never held a grudge. Emily finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Still, Emily's spirits were crushed. She kept repeating to herself, "I let a genuine heir slip right through my fingers; I didn't cherish him, and now I can't stop regretting it..." She rejected the other introductions her parents arranged—how could she even look at ordinary guys anymore when she'd almost had the real deal?
Eventually, her parents pressured her relentlessly, and she called Quinn to complain. But dwelling on it wouldn't help—there was no chance to reconnect with that top heir. Over time, Emily recovered and realized she needed to settle down with someone. After weighing her options, she grudgingly decided Dylan's prospects were acceptable: good family background, and he seemed to like her. The problem was that Dylan hadn't made a move, and Emily was growing anxious. That's when she hit on the scheme of having Quinn find some loser to pretend to be her boyfriend, just to spur Dylan into action.
As for this fake boyfriend? Emily never gave him a second thought—no hopes or expectations. In her mind, he was merely a pawn, to be used and discarded once her plan worked.
But who could have guessed? That loser turned out to be the very top-tier rich kid she'd agonized over!
And Emily finally understood: this heir was so low-key that even her own cousin—who'd known him long enough—didn't realize he was wealthy, and assumed he was a total nobody, barking orders at him left and right. It seemed that both Quinn and Emily had made the same colossal blunder.
"Yes, I'm Quinn's cousin Emily. This time, I asked Quinn to find me a boyfriend," Emily said respectfully.
"Well, your situation isn't too bad—working at a bank, driving a Ford," Grayson replied candidly. "I'd actually heard some things about you from the club president: that you have high standards, that you've remained single, and that your family's been pressuring you."
Grayson really did know who Quinn's cousin was—he just hadn't met her before, so he never would have guessed she worked as a receptionist at Sterling Royce Bank, Now that he realized it, he couldn't help feeling surprised. He, too, had experienced Emily's attitude toward wealth—he knew she was a gold digger. All the more puzzling, then, why she'd asked her younger female cousin Quinn to set him up as her boyfriend.
"The club president never knew who I really was," Grayson continued with a small smile, looking at Emily. "You've witnessed how she sees me. She thinks I'm some broke nobody. So why would she recommend me as your boyfriend? Besides, since you asked her to find a boyfriend, doesn't that mean you told her you wanted some loser?"
At this point, Grayson paused, then added, "So the real question is: why do you want a loser as your boyfriend?"