The Teacher's Supernova Trap

My name is Ethan Lawrence. Thanks to some family connections, I run a modest but profitable business. Life had settled into a dull routine—post-graduation, my social circle shriveled up, and every woman I met seemed more interested in my bank account than me.

Not that I minded playing along. Let's be real—whether rich or poor, men are wired the same way. Beauty always catches our eye.

That night, I skipped the usual drinking invites and holed up in my office, mindlessly scrolling through my phone. Live streaming had exploded in popularity—nowadays, people would watch anything as long as it was broadcasted. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if someone streamed themselves taking a nap and still raked in virtual gifts.

Ugh. Another heavily filtered face. I crushed my cigarette into the ashtray, sipped my tea, and kept scrolling. Do any of these women even look like this in real life?

Then—bam.

There she was.

Long, silky hair cascading over her shoulders, fingers strumming a guitar under the soft glow of sunset. She sat on a school field, dressed in a sleek professional suit, stockings hugging her toned legs, black stilettos completing the look. Minimal makeup, zero gimmicks—just raw, effortless elegance.

My breath hitched.

Wait… do I know her?

Then it clicked.

Sophia Valentine.

My high school homeroom teacher.

Back then, she was fresh out of college—every guy's fantasy, the kind of woman who made teenage hearts race. The school's resident goddess, untouchable, turning down CEOs' sons and Ivy League grads like it was nothing.

So why the hell was she now livestreaming to an audience of… fifty people?

Are these idiots blind?

Frustration boiled in my chest. Without thinking, I tapped the gift icon and sent ten Supernovas in a row—each one worth two grand. Twenty thousand dollars, just like that.

The effect was instant.

Sophia's eyes widened, her fingers freezing mid-strum. "Oh my—thank you! Thank you so much for the Supernovas!" Her voice was breathless, almost disbelieving. "I'll DM you—please join my fan group!"

Seconds later, a notification popped up. A private message from Sophia herself.

Following her instructions, I added her on social media and entered the so-called VIP Inner Circle—an exclusive group with barely a dozen members, all high-rollers who'd gifted her before.