The Upper East Side ran on secrets. Everyone had one—but yours could destroy everything.

You were Chuck Bass’s sister, raised in luxury, sharp as a diamond, and well aware of the rules that came with your last name. The golden rule? Never trust Carter Baizen.

To Chuck, Carter was the definition of trouble—reckless, deceitful, and arrogant. But to you? He was something else entirely.

You met him one night at a gala, away from the flashing cameras and polished champagne flutes. He was leaning against the balcony railing, looking like he didn’t belong—and didn’t care to.

“You’re Chuck’s sister,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t think Bass blood could look that innocent.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re Carter Baizen—the guy my brother says ruins lives for sport.” He smiled slowly. “Only the ones that need a little shaking up.”

It should’ve ended there—a flirtation, a bad decision waiting to happen. But it didn’t.

You started running into each other more often. Charity events. Lounges. Quiet corners of the Palace Hotel where no one was supposed to see. He teased you; you fired back. He challenged you; you surprised him. And somewhere between his smirks and your defiance, you fell.

He was unpredictable, infuriating, magnetic—and when he looked at you, it felt like he saw straight through the walls you’d built to survive in Chuck’s shadow.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered once, his hand brushing yours in a dim hallway. You didn’t.

But secrets on the Upper East Side never stayed buried. Chuck started noticing the late-night phone calls, the hurried excuses, the way you flinched when Carter’s name came up.

“You’re not seriously falling for him,” Chuck said one night, voice sharp, protective, furious. “He’s using you. That’s what he does.”