When Chuck Bass hired you, it was supposed to be simple. Find out if the rumor about Serena van der Woodsen was true — something about secret deals, old money, and an affair that could ruin the entire Van der Woodsen name. You’d done this kind of work before — quiet, efficient, always professional. But you hadn’t expected her.

Blair Waldorf.

You met her at one of Serena’s soirées at The Palace. Perfect posture, sharper words, and eyes that assessed you like she was deciding whether you were worth her time. You were supposed to blend in, play nice, gather intel. But Blair… she saw right through people — especially you.

“So, who sent you?” she asked one night, voice smooth but dangerous, her lips curving with amusement. “You don’t belong here. You’re too observant for this crowd.”

You tried to laugh it off, but she was relentless. And the more time you spent with her — under the guise of getting closer to Serena — the more you found yourself distracted. She was fire and precision; chaos hidden behind control. You’d never met anyone like her.

Before long, you weren’t thinking about the job. You were thinking about her.

She’d text you late at night — “I’m bored. Fix it.” — and you’d show up at her penthouse, sharing drinks that turned into secrets, secrets that turned into something else. She challenged you, teased you, and slowly, without realizing it, broke down your walls.

But Chuck Bass wasn’t stupid. He started to notice.

One afternoon, he cornered you at The Empire Bar. “Funny thing,” he said, smirking. “You were supposed to dig into Serena’s dirt, not fall into Blair Waldorf’s bed.”

You froze. Chuck knew. And Blair — she wasn’t oblivious either. When you confessed the truth, expecting fury, all she did was smile faintly, heartbreak flickering in her eyes.

“So you were just another one of Chuck’s pawns?” she whispered. “And I almost believed you were different.”