It all started with Blair Waldorf’s party—because of course it did.

The Waldorf name still ruled the Upper East Side, even years after graduation. Her annual “Manhattan Monarchs” charity gala wasn’t just an event; it was the social battlefield. And this year, she’d found a new way to humiliate Jenny Humphrey.

The gossip blogs buzzed for days: “Little J still chasing relevance?” “Rufus’s daughter—desperate for attention again?” Blair’s fingerprints were all over it.

When Jenny stormed into your apartment—heels clicking like gunfire and eyes blazing—you knew she was planning something dangerous.

“She thinks she can bury me again,” Jenny snapped, pacing. “But not this time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s the plan, then?”

She stopped, lips curving into a smirk. “Simple. We give her something to choke on.”

“Like what?”

Jenny grinned. “Us.”

You blinked. “Us?”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping closer, her perfume faintly sweet and sharp. “We pretend to date. Blair hates surprises—especially when she’s not the center of attention. Imagine her face when we walk in together.”

You hesitated. “So… fake relationship. Public affection. Gossip-worthy appearances. That kind of thing?”

Jenny’s smirk deepened. “Exactly. You in?”