Unprogrammed Love

Chapter 3-The Substitute’s Masquerade

The chill of early evening clung to the city as Celeste slipped into the backseat of Adrian's black SUV. The collar at her throat hummed faintly—Level‑1 pain, a reminder. Two security guards flanked her; their gazes never wavered from the diamond clasp that bit into her skin.

“Tonight is crucial," Lucinda's voice crackled in her earpiece. “Your presence must be impeccable. Mr. Lu will arrive shortly."

Celeste exhaled, smoothing the midnight‑blue gown's skirt. “Understood," she whispered.

The SUV glided through narrow side streets until the roar of engines and chatter of paparazzi flooded her ears. She recognized the venue: a private launch party for LuTech's newest nanobot interface, held in a refurbished warehouse on the waterfront.

---

**8:05 PM — Waterfront Warehouse**

A cluster of flashbulbs lit the entrance as Celeste stepped onto the red carpet. Reporters shouted questions; camera shutters clicked like rapid gunfire.

“Ms. Su, what inspired your neckline choice?"

“Celeste, will you confirm the rumors about your engagement date?"

“Adrian has been distant—are you worried?"

Celeste forced a polite smile. “Just a design choice," she answered a stylist's question. “Engagement details will be announced in due time."

She moved along the line, each step measured. **Meter –15%.** The collar drained warmth from her shoulders. She pictured her unborn child's heartbeat—steady, defiant—and squared her spine.

At the end of the carpet, Adrian stood beneath an oversized neon “LuTech" sign. He greeted guests with a curt nod before his eyes landed on her. The world stilled.

“Celeste," he said, voice low enough only she could hear. “Don't falter."

She inclined her head. “I won't." His gaze lingered; something flickered behind his ice-blue irises—surprise? recognition?—then vanished. He turned to shake hands with an investor.

---

**8:20 PM — Main Hall**

Inside, the warehouse was transformed: sleek white booths displaying holographic demos, glass tables bearing sculpted appetizers, and a raised stage at one end. A thin crowd of tech elites mingled beneath industrial beams.

Celeste drifted between clusters, laughter and clinking glasses swirling around her. She caught snippets of conversation:

“…the latency is almost nonexistent."

“…but what about ethical safeguards?"

“…I heard LuTech's stock dipped after last quarter's hack."

Her stomach knotted. **Hackers.** Last week, anonymous code had leaked a death threat against Adrian—a screenshot of him straddled by a faceless figure's scrawl: “Your life ends at sea." Tonight, the threat testers would watch her reaction.

Footsteps approached. Adrian's hand curved around her elbow. “Stay close," he murmured, leading her toward the stage.

Onstage, the CTO delivered a polished spiel. Celeste stood at Adrian's side, illuminated by cool-blue spotlights. Cameras swivelled; the live stream counted viewers.

“Introducing the NanoLink Series IV," the CTO announced. “A breakthrough in neuro‑responsive health monitoring."

Adrian raised his glass. “To the future."

The crowd echoed his toast. Glasses chimed. Celeste lifted her flute with deliberate grace—just as a rogue photographer lunged forward.

His lens zoomed in on her face. At that moment, his hand jerked, and a knife blade sliced through the air, grazing her left shoulder. A muted gasp rippled around the room as the blade nicked her flesh.

**CRACK.** A flashbulb popped—pain bloomed hot and vicious along her collarbone. **Meter –25%.** The collar surged, Level‑2 pain racing down her spine.

Celeste's arm flew to her shoulder. Her dress fabric split, dark blood blossoming beneath the silky cuff. She staggered.

Adrian reacted in an instant—his hand clamped over hers, steadying her. He strode to the stage's edge, eyes blazing. “Security!" His voice echoed like a whip.

Two guards vaulted over the rail, hauling the photographer away. The blade clanged on the floor; the would‑be attacker was dragged out, screaming.

Adrian knelt beside Celeste. “Are you all right?" His tone was controlled, but his gaze was fierce—anomalous warmth flickering.

She swallowed a gasp. “Yes," she lied. Her teeth clenched against pain that twisted her ribs. **Meter –35%.**

Adrian's hand braced on her waist, anchoring her. He caught the attention of the CTO. “Medic, here."

Two medics rushed forward. Celeste let them guide her backstage, leaning on Adrian's arm. He never released her; his coat brushed her back as they passed.

---

**8:25 PM — Backstage First‑Aid Station**

The medic peeled back the gown's strap and dabbed antiseptic. Celeste's breath hitched. Adrian hovered, jaw clenched.

“Deep enough for a hospital visit?" the medic asked.

“No." Celeste bit out. “She's fine."

Adrian's gaze snapped to her. “You should be examined."

Her mind raced: if she submitted, the system would register her failure. **No.** She gripped the edge of the table. “I need to return. Now."

The medic hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Cover it lightly. You'll bruise."

Adrian's hand brushed the blood away from her skin with a glove. “Can you walk?"

Celeste tested her weight. It hurt with every movement. She nodded. “Yes."

He pressed a card into the medic's palm. “Emergency exit." Then he turned and guided her through a narrow corridor. The collar's hum receded to a dull ache—but only because the tag-team of adrenaline and humiliation held it in check.

---

**8:30 PM — Corridor Overlooking Main Hall**

They emerged onto a catwalk above the main space. Celeste leaned against the railing, staring down at the oblivious crowd enveloped by flashing lights.

Adrian stood beside her. The distance between them was small, charged with something neither system nor etiquette controlled.

She whispered, “Why did you stop it?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. His gaze fixed on her wound. Finally, he said, “Because I won't let anyone kill you."

Her heart lurched—**Meter –50%.** The collar burned, but at the same time, a prick of relief.

She met his eyes. “Then hate me harder," she challenged, voice rough. “If that's the deal."

Adrian's jaw tightened. “I will." He stepped back and offered her a stiff nod. “Return inside. Act the part."

She hesitated, wincing as pain knifed through her arm. **Meter –60%.** The collar's threat pulsed at her skin.

She squared her shoulders and pushed off the railing. “Yes, Mr. Lu."

He paused, watching her go, then turned away without another word.

---

**8:32 PM — Main Hall**

Celeste reemerged among the guests. The quartet had resumed playing a tragic cello solo. Conversations fluttered around her. She lifted her glass, dipping it toward a curious onlooker.

“Impressive resilience," a rival heiress purred. “Most flinch at a paper cut."

Celeste smiled faintly, blood seeping through her gown's bodice. “I'm tougher than I look."

The heiress arched a brow. “I'll remember that."

Celeste drifted to the bar and ordered water—no one questioned. She sipped slowly, tasting iron and jasmine. Her vision blurred for a moment, then cleared. The flash from the hike wound still tingled.

She fingered the collar, calculating pain thresholds. **Meter –70%.** The system's pain tax spiked—but each jolt sharpened her resolve.

Tonight's masquerade had ended in violence and humiliation. But Celeste Su had survived one more loop—better prepared for the next trap.

She lifted her chin and scanned the room. Adrian stood on the far side, surveying the guests. Their eyes met across the swell of bodies. He blinked—perhaps at the smear of blood across her bodice, or at the fierce determination in her gaze.

For the first time in five years, Celeste felt a tremor in the algorithm's certainty.

A slow, triumphant warmth spread through her chest. She touched the jagged tear in her gown. **They wanted to see me broken. Instead, they just made me stronger.**

And so the masquerade would continue—until Adrian's affection meter plunged to –100%, or until Celeste rewrote the rules of their cruel game. Either way, she was no longer the helpless stand‑in. She was the mistress of her own fate.

Tonight, the substitute had shown her true face. And the world would soon learn just how dangerous a mask could be when the woman beneath it refused to break.