Chapter 1

The year James James loved me most, he made a promise: once I won my award, we'd get married.

At the ceremony, he took the Best Actress trophy that had been meant for me and handed it to Charity Cox, a short-drama actress.

Eight years together, and it didn't matter. If Charity wanted it, he'd give away anything of mine without a second thought.

Small things like business partnerships. Big things like global endorsements.

I gave everything I had to win that award.

I broke three ribs shooting the action scenes, and I was nearly assaulted by local thugs.

He knew all of it.

I broke down and asked him why he would do this.

His answer was light, almost breezy:

"It's precisely because I watched how hard every step was for you that I don't want a young girl like her to suffer that much."

"Helping her is just like helping you back when you had no one."

"Sweetheart, you don't need this award. Don't be so petty about it, all right?"

He was aching for the old me.

And looking straight through the me standing in front of him.

Then we'd just never see each other again.

1

A hashtag was trending about me. The harder she tries, the more pathetic it gets.

I didn't have the courage to open it.

Three days locked inside, not stepping out once.

They doxxed me anyway.

Some were my own fans, saying I was a lost cause, that they'd wasted their eyes ever liking me, wishing me an early death.

Some were Charity's fans, saying it didn't matter how good my acting was, I still couldn't beat Charity with James backing her, that I wasn't even fit to carry Charity's shoes.

The bedroom light snapped on.

It stung, and I shut my eyes.

James looked at the mess across the floor, at the shattered wedding photo, and his voice went tight with anger:

"Celine Pierce, what is it this time? Why didn't you go to the after-party?"

"Do you have any idea what the press is writing about Charity?"

I looked at him calmly. I had no urge left to fight.

It wasn't that I'd never fought.

The first time he replaced me as the regular guest on a variety show with Charity.

I stormed into the company and had it out with him, the whole place shaking. I tagged him and Charity on social media, called them a pair of scheming snakes.

He had the company put out a statement saying I was mentally unstable, that they'd replaced me only after a professional evaluation.

When Charity snatched a brand endorsement from me, I rushed to the set and slapped James across the face, and beat Charity badly enough that she nearly lost her looks.

Then he had the marketing accounts publish that I was the ringleader bullying a newcomer. I stayed on the trending lists for a full six months, and paid contract penalties until I was scraped clean.

Those miserable days.

Every one of them, still vivid.

"Then why don't you look at what people are calling me?"

Right there at the entryway was a photoshopped funeral portrait of me, and a package with a dead snake inside.

James frowned:

"Just turn off your phone. Don't open the door and you won't see any of it, right?"

"It's not the first time you've been cursed at. You're not used to it by now?"

"But Charity is different. She just got into this industry."

So I deserved it?

I asked, "Do you still remember the first time I got torn apart online?"

Back then Sever Studios was on the edge of going under.

To keep the company alive, I drank at those business dinners until I threw up blood.

People spread rumors that I'd let some bigwig use me for resources and gotten hurt doing it.

James filed suit against hundreds of them and dragged them into court.

He held me, aching for me, and said he'd grow strong, that he'd never let me be hurt even a little.

He kept that promise.

Now the company stands alone at the top of the domestic market.

But every wound I carry comes from him.

James lowered his lashes. "You can't live in the past. Don't bring up all that stale, moldy old business."

A fine, prickling ache spread through my heart.

I'd been trapped in memories far too long.

"James, have you forgotten? You said the moment I won one more award, I'd retire and marry you."

He stepped forward and pulled me in. "Charity's foundation is weak. She needs this award so badly."

"You're retiring anyway. Winning or not doesn't matter. Next time I'll make sure the award goes to you, all right?"

Give it to me?

But this award was mine to begin with.

I pushed him away.

Three years ago he'd already said next time.

I believed him, once and then again.

There wouldn't be a next time.

And I'd stopped wanting to marry him a long time ago.

I took out my phone and replied to an email.

【I accept the long-term contract with Hollywood.】