Manhattan was buzzing with whispers — Blair Waldorf had a new friend. A charming, intelligent art curator who made her laugh, someone who wasn’t Chuck Bass. And for Chuck, that was a problem.

He told himself he didn’t care anymore. Blair had chosen her path, and he had his empire. But the moment he saw her smile at another man — that smile she used to give him — something inside him snapped.

He needed control back. He needed the upper hand. And that’s when you appeared.

You were the perfect candidate — a rising name in the business world, beautiful in a way that turned heads, confident in a way that made Chuck’s interest spark instantly. You met him at a Bass Industries event, where your sharp remarks and unbothered demeanor caught his attention. When he offered you a drink and a deal — a chance to play along with his little scheme — you didn’t hesitate.

You weren’t naive. You knew the game. You’d seen men like Chuck before — powerful, arrogant, emotionally bruised beneath the layers of tailored suits and charm. But there was something about him, something dangerously compelling. So when he leaned in and murmured, “Help me make her jealous,” you smiled and said, “Fine. But you better play your part right.”

And you both did.

Dinner dates in public, stolen glances across parties, photos snapped by Gossip Girl herself — the city ate it up. “Chuck Bass moves on.” “Who’s the mystery woman?” “Blair Waldorf’s ex finds love again.”