Chapter 3

Yolanda Vance's POV

Leaving the hospital, I didn't go home but went straight to a law firm I was familiar with.

However, after I explained the situation, the top-tier lawyers who used to treat me with great respect—and even suck up to me—all showed expressions of difficulty.

"Ms. Vance, we are truly sorry. It's not that we won't take your case, but Mr. Foster has already given us a heads-up beforehand..."

"Ms. Vance, Julian Foster is at the peak of his fame right now, and we can't afford to offend the capital backing him. You'd better find someone else."

"Yolanda, take my advice. You can't win against him. If Julian Foster told you to give up the assets, just sign it to save yourself the pain."

I visited five law firms in a row, only to receive the exact same answer. Cornered, I sat in a street corner cafe, watching the bustling traffic outside, feeling helpless for the first time in my life.

Julian Foster was driving me to the brink of death.

Just then, the phone on the table began to vibrate frantically. It was a call from one of my few friends in the industry, the famous producer Ethan Shaw.

The moment the call connected, Ethan Shaw's anxious and angry voice came through. "Yolanda! What on earth are you doing?! Have you lost your mind? Even if Julian Foster wants a divorce, even if you're short on cash, you can't go and film that kind of adult movie! You're a Grand Slam Best Actress!"

I was completely dazed. "Ethan, what nonsense are you talking about? What adult movie?"

"You don't know yet?! Quickly look at X! It's the number one trending topic!"

With trembling hands, I tapped open X. Hanging right at the top of the trending list was a deep red word "Explosive": #Former Best Actress Yolanda Vance's Racy Photos Exposed#.

The one who posted these photos was none other than Julian Foster's verified account.

In the photos, I was wearing revealing lace lingerie, posing in various seductive ways. There were even a few topless shots, my eyes hazy.

Those were private photos taken when we first started dating, while vacationing abroad. Julian Foster had coaxed me into taking them, saying he wanted to capture me at my most beautiful.

They were proof of our love, the absolute bottom line of my wholehearted trust in him.

But now, these photos had been made public by him, labeled as "audition photos for an adult film comeback."

Looking at myself in the photos—smiling so happily with eyes full of Julian Foster—I couldn't help but let out a shrill, mocking laugh.

Just how foolish was I to treat an ungrateful wolf as the love of my life?

The comment section had already fallen, filled with vulgar and eyesore insults:

"Holy crap! Truly can't stand being lonely, selling herself even after retiring!"

"I feel so bad for Mr. Foster. No wonder he wants a divorce. Turns out his wife is a slut!"

"This body is insane. Wonder how much she costs for a night?"

"Get out of the entertainment industry! Slut!"

Right after, I refreshed the page, and Julian Foster's account had posted another update:

"Three years in the making, the release date for our latest pure, coming-of-age art film 'White Dove' is officially set. Female Lead: Anna Sterling. She has the cleanest, most pure soul I have ever seen."

I stared fixedly at the screen, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, drawing faint traces of blood.

I understood. Julian Foster didn't just want to force me to give up my assets; he wanted to destroy me completely! He wanted to step on my reputation to pave the way for that bitch, Anna Sterling! He wanted to use my "filth" to highlight Anna Sterling's "purity"!

Want to make me submit? Want to ruin my reputation and make me roll out like a dog?

Keep dreaming!

I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. My journey from playing extras to winning Best Actress was never built on a man's charity, but on the resilience and unyielding spirit in my bones.

I stood up, preparing to go home to gather evidence of Julian Foster plagiarizing my script.

Just as I got home, before I even had the chance to open my computer, a deafening pounding suddenly came from the front door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Before I could react, the security door was violently busted open. Julian Foster barged in with seven or eight burly bodyguards.

He didn't even look at me. With a sinister gaze, he said coldly, "Smash everything!"