Five years after we broke up, Christian Vance’s sister went on a reality show and exposed me. "My brother dated this girl a while back. A total gold digger." "After they broke up, she sent him over a hundred texts begging to get back together." "But, you know, I deleted all of them before he could see." The internet detectives immediately pinned the "gold digger" label on me—a washed-up, has-been actress. To snag the headline, a paparazzi dug me out from a pile of "dead bodies" on a film set. I wiped a smudge of fake ash off my face and smiled at the camera. "I don't really know him. If I did, would I be here playing a corpse for fifty bucks?" The interview clip went viral. Christian flew back from overseas. That night, I saw him standing at the door of my rundown apartment. "You don't know me? So, who was I sleeping with all those years? A ghost?" 1 After Lyla Vance’s explosive clip aired, it simmered overnight before hitting the number one trending spot on X. In the video, she smiled nonchalantly at the camera, playing the role of the righteous executioner of gold diggers. "Anyone with eyes could see she was just after our family's money. My brother actually thought she was innocent." "You know, that type of manipulative girl who plays the victim is the scariest. None of our friends in the circle liked her back then." "But my brother was like he’d been hexed. He almost cut ties with the family for her." "My mom wanted to force them apart, but I told her it wasn't worth ruining her relationship with her son over a gold digger." "In the end, I had to infiltrate the situation and use some... methods to make that woman show her true colors." "I honestly saved my brother's life. For families like ours, marriage needs to be between equals for everyone to be happy." Lyla entered the entertainment industry under the banner of a wealthy heiress. On the surface, she was the daughter of Vance Estates. The public naturally assumed the "brother" she mentioned was the heir to the Vance empire. But in reality, Vance Estates was just a small asset within the massive portfolio of the Christian family. But I digress. Dead bodies aren't supposed to check their phones. The guy lying next to me, another extra playing a corpse, filled me in on what Lyla said. I don’t know how they connected the dots, but thousands of clues later, the public's gaze landed squarely on me. "Is it really not you?" As soon as the director yelled "Cut," the paparazzi guy and I scrambled up from the dirt. You have to hand it to him; to get a scoop, he actually infiltrated the set to play a dead body alongside me. I dusted off my gray robes and grinned. "It really isn't. If I had connections to a high-roller like that, would I need to be here playing dead?" He spat out a blade of grass. "Stop acting. I've been tracking you since your debut. I could never get a shot of your ex-boyfriend back then, but now with this leak, the timeline fits perfectly." I ignored him, bending over to fish a crumpled business card out of the jeans I wore under my costume. I shoved it into his hand with a flattering smile. "Boss, remember me if you have work. Dead bodies, zombies, background wall—I can do it all. My professional skills are top-tier." This paparazzi, Eddy, had bought stock in me since my debut. In my peak years, he bought a condo in Burbank just by selling dirt on me. Now that I was washed up, he was the only one who hadn’t given up, always hoping for my grand comeback. He snatched the card, cursing. "I swear, Summer, if you were a stock, I’d have lost my underwear holding onto you these past few years." "Look at you. You used to be the 'It Girl.' How did you end up like this?" I waved my hand dismissively. "Heroes don't brag about past glory. Eddy, if you can toss a few gigs my way in the future, I’ll be eternally grateful." I watched his retreating back and craned my neck to yell, "Eddy! I’ll act in anything! Just get me a role!" The autumn wind was biting. I pulled my robe tighter. If he hadn't brought it up, I might have truly forgotten. Glory. Yeah, I used to have plenty of that. 2 I was scouted at eighteen, and by nineteen, I was a household name. The tabloids scrutinized my every move, but they were generally kind. Vanity Fair once ran a headline calling me the brightest star in the galaxy. I lived up to the hype, rocketing to the A-list in record time. Lyla always claimed I relied on her brother, that I was after the Vance money. Others might speculate, but Christian knew the truth best. I met him when I was nineteen. I had limitless potential and an ego to match. He didn't know how to pursue a girl; he only knew how to throw money. "Be with me, and I'll fund your movies." I threw the cash back in his face, chin high. "I need you to fund me? Directors are lining up to hand me scripts." He laughed, not angry in the least, and stopped his bodyguards from stepping in. After that, he changed tactics. He dropped the arrogance. He squeezed onto economy buses to accompany me to remote shooting locations. He huddled in cheap motels with me, cooked for me, made me soup. I took it all for granted, patting his shoulder with a sense of honor. "I'm a superstar. Do you know how many people dream of cooking for me?" "When I win the Oscar and I'm famous worldwide, you'll have bragging rights. You really struck gold picking me out of the crowd." Christian would run his fingers through my hair, agreeing to all my nonsensical rambling unconditionally. "That's why I say I have good taste. I knew from the start you'd make it big." Back then, I saw Christian as no different from other trust fund kids, except he was exceptionally handsome. He truly loved me then. The patience cultivated from a life of privilege was poured entirely onto me. I became famous too early. I was young, aggressive, and proud. I didn't know how to bow my head. No one restrained me. No one taught me the rules. I offended a lot of people along the way. At such a young age, I did whatever I wanted in that circle. Not because I was untouchable, but because Christian was always there to clean up my mess. If he dared to hand me the sword, I dared to swing it. An actress marrying a tycoon—it’s a tale as old as time. At that time, I thought I was somebody. Marrying Christian wouldn't necessarily boost his status, but he certainly wouldn't be losing out. So, I naively thought the only hurdle between us was whether I said yes. 3 Later, I learned what a true class divide looked like. Christian’s mother didn't like me. His friends looked down on me. With my pride, I should have broken up with him. But I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear to leave him, couldn't bear not to love him. I lowered my head. I compromised. I refused to retreat. That was when Lyla entered the picture. She was Christian’s adopted sister. Her biological father was the Vance family driver who died saving Christian when she was five. The family took her in. Maybe it was gratitude, maybe it was the bond of growing up together, but Lyla held significant sway in their circle. When she first met me, she showed immense enthusiasm. "Bro, this is the sister-in-law you found for me? She's gorgeous." She linked arms with me, pointing at their circle of friends, barking orders. "Listen up, everyone be nice to my sister-in-law. With me here, no one bullies her." In my most confusing moments, I treated her as an ally. I asked her about his mother's opinion, asked her how to please her. Lyla comforted me, "Oh, don't worry. Auntie Lane has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. You and my brother just need to hold the line. One day, if you guys just elope or give her a grandkid, she'll be too happy to care." "Worst case, just wait it out. When my brother gets older, she'll naturally compromise." I wasn't stupid enough to use a child to force a marriage. But Lyla's words gave me a bit of confidence back then. I thought Christian’s mother was like any mother—eventually, she wouldn't be able to say no to her son. So when Lyla told me Christian’s mother wanted to meet me, I believed her. I did my makeup perfectly, wore my most modest dress, and went with a heart full of nerves. That was the first time I met Christian’s mother face-to-face. I had intruded, uninvited and rude, into a high-society event that was clearly not meant for me. In that moment, I saw profound disgust in her eyes. I looked at Lyla, hoping she would say something. She smiled, speaking ambiguously, "Auntie, don't blame her. She just wanted to please you so badly, she lost her sense of propriety." My pupils shrank. I felt like I had been plunged into an ice cellar. The incident caused a huge scene. Christian flew back to the States overnight. When he saw me, his eyes were heavy with fatigue. "Summer, I told you I was making plans. I was figuring it out. Why were you in such a rush? Do you know what kind of event that was? How many VIPs were there? Barging in like that... how do you expect my mom to see you?" I knew he was fighting his family, working hard for us. During many sleepless nights, we held each other tight, and I heard him whisper to just hold on a little longer. So I knew I was wrong. My eyes turned red. "I'm sorry, I was too anxious. It was Lyla... she told me to go..." The long standoff with his family had drained his patience. "Why blame her? Even if she meant well and wanted to bridge the gap, you're an adult. Can't you read the room?" He didn't believe me. He thought I was desperate for quick success, desperate to climb the social ladder. 4 From then on, we began an endless cycle of arguments and cold wars. Lyla would still pretend to consider my feelings in front of others, acting close to me. But behind my back, she was just like the rest of them—contemptuous and dismissive. I planned to separate from Christian because the emotional mess was stalling my career. On the eve of my decision, Lyla sent me a video. In the clip, Christian sat on a sofa in a living room, surrounded by familiar faces. His mother's tone was severe. "How long is this going to drag on with that girl?" Christian didn't look up, his tone lazy. "Just playing around. Why are you in such a rush?" Along with the video came a text from Lyla. ["Sister-in-law, don't misunderstand. My brother is just like that, tough talk. He said he was 'just playing' with all his exes too, but he never skimped on the money or resources. Dating him for a few days sets them up for life."] I didn't take the video to question Christian. I just broke up with him directly. But Christian thought I was throwing a tantrum and patiently tried to placate me. To disgust him, I said the cruelest things I could think of. "No, I found a better backer. What you can give me, others can give me too!" "You think your family is royalty? Let me tell you, I don't care!" The argument exploded instantly, turning into a messy entanglement. Many times, I think back. If only Christian had let go then. If only I hadn't had that lingering attachment. Maybe I wouldn't have walked into the trap Lyla set. I wouldn't have been branded a mistress who climbed into a director's bed at the height of my fame, with scandalous photos flying everywhere. I wouldn't have paid breach-of-contract fees until I was penniless, ending up playing dead bodies just to eat. But there are no "ifs." Love tripped up the first half of my life, trapping me in a prison.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "388375", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel