Alina was the undisputed star, surrounded by adoration.

Elaine assumed Alina wouldn't even notice her.

She was mistaken; Alina's hostility was blatant and deliberate.

As Elaine slipped into a couture gown, Alina's assistant approached.

The assistant stumbled, seemingly by accident, and a decorative pin tore a jagged rip in the delicate fabric of Elaine's skirt.

Alina covered her mouth, her tone devoid of remorse. "So sorry, Miss Willis. That dress won't do now. There's a spare over there that suits you better."

It was a dull, outdated dress, clashing with the shoot's glamorous theme.

Outmatched, Elaine swallowed her pride to avoid trouble and changed into the plain outfit.

She hoped her concession would bring peace, unaware that Alina's targeting had only begun.

As a staff member prepared to adorn Elaine with a dazzling jewelry set, Alina interjected sharply, "That set's too bold for Miss Willis. It doesn't suit her. Switch it out."

The replacement was a pair of barely noticeable stud earrings and a thin, pitiful chain necklace.

Ivy's face paled with anger. "Elaine's the ambassador for this jewelry brand! Aren't you worried about upsetting them?"

Alina smirked, unfazed. "Are they? Let them take it up with Dylan Andrews. I doubt they'll complain."

Ivy opened her mouth to argue, but Elaine gently squeezed her wrist.

"It's just a group shoot. Let it go," she whispered, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

The shoot finally began.

The photographer directed Elaine to a prominent spot, but Alina pointed to the far corner, her tone firm. "Elaine, go there. You're so tall, you'll block others if you stand up front."

Everyone in the industry knew Alina was Dylan's cherished love.

The photographer had objections but stayed silent.

Elaine lifted her skirt and moved to the edge.

Alina spoke again. "Elaine, are you a bit too heavy? You're throwing off the whole frame. Step back a little more."

Elaine sighed.

She knew one word from Alina could prompt Dylan to dismiss women like her without hesitation.

Yet Alina, proud and ambitious, always declared she wouldn't date until she won some international acting award.

Year after year, she kept Dylan on a string.

She told the media they were just friends.

But when Dylan had other women, she grew displeased.

What was the point?

It was like gods clashing while mortals suffered.

Suppressing her humiliation, Elaine completed the shoot. Just as she exhaled in relief, a cup of scalding coffee splashed across her.

The brown liquid stained her chest, sticky and humiliating.

"Oh no!" Alina exclaimed. "The floor's so slippery, I lost my grip. You're not burned, are you?"

The searing pain hit, and Elaine clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

She saw the triumphant glint in Alina's eyes, and rage surged within her.

She wanted to grab a hot coffee and throw it back.

But then, a commotion stirred at the studio entrance.

The staff fell silent, their gazes turning toward the door.

Dylan had arrived.

He wore a impeccably tailored dark suit, his presence commanding as he strode in, surrounded by the crew.

His indifferent gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Elaine's stained dress before settling on Alina.

Alina hurried to him, naturally looping her arm through his, her voice soft. "Dylan, you're finally here! The floor's so slippery, I nearly fell and spilled coffee on Miss Willis by accident…"

Dylan let her hold his arm, but his eyes shifted back to Elaine, their depths unreadable.

After a long silence, Dylan shifted his gaze to the shoot's director, his tone flat. "What kind of operation is this? No carpet? If Miss Russell had fallen, who'd take responsibility?"

The director nodded and bowed, promising to lay down the softest, safest carpet for Alina next time.

Elaine, drenched in coffee, stood forgotten on the sidelines.

Dylan didn't spare her another glance. Instead, he draped an arm around Alina's shoulder, his voice gentle. "Done shooting? Let's grab dinner."

Elaine watched them leave arm in arm, her heart steeped in bitter, scalding coffee.

She took a deep breath, forcing back tears.

She should have known long ago that Dylan had no heart for her.

When Alina was abroad, Elaine could at least keep him entertained.

Now that Alina was back, there was no room for her at his side.

Thankfully, she was clearheaded enough to have planned her escape.

Even if Dylan discarded her, she wouldn't end up a stray dog.

She changed out of the ill-fitting gown, returned to her apartment, and took a shower before collapsing into bed, hoping sleep would blot out all thoughts of Dylan.

But sleep eluded her. Knocking pounded at her door, relentless as a drumbeat.

Unable to bear it, she threw off the covers, stomped to the door, and yanked it open, snapping, "What's with the banging? You nuts?"

Her throat caught when she met Dylan's impassive eyes. "Mr… Mr. Andrews…"

His face was stony. "Why didn't you answer my messages?"

"I was… asleep…"

Dylan pushed past her, scanning her cluttered little apartment with a frown. "You live in this dump? Where's all the money I gave you?"

She'd saved it all.

She was terrified of being broke again.

She could never forget that gray sky at eighteen, nor the menacing eyes of debt collectors.

She wanted piles of money, enough to banish all insecurity.

Besides, she was leaving soon. What did it matter where she lived?

She couldn't tell Dylan that.

He still seemed interested in her. If she admitted she was leaving, he'd never allow it.

She'd have to act first and explain later.

She tossed out an excuse. "I'm an actress. I need to film. Where I live doesn't matter."

"Finally growing a career brain?" Dylan scoffed. "If you're serious about acting, I'll get you a professional management team and some decent scripts. Stop wasting time with those low-rate directors."

Elaine knew this was the prelude to Dylan cutting her loose.

He was generous, always ensuring a soft landing when parting ways.

He might not be a good lover, but he was a magnanimous benefactor.

Too bad his offer came too late—she'd already carved her own path.

Still, she smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Andrews."

Sunny, now awake, bounded over to nuzzle Dylan.

He dodged with a grimace and said coldly, "I'll transfer the Riverbay house to your name. You can live in this rat hole, but Sunny deserves better."

Elaine's eyes curved with a grin as she thanked him repeatedly.

In her mind, she was already calculating how much the house could fetch if sold, and whether it'd cover a similar place in Eldoria.

Dylan watched her smile, a strange stir in his chest.

He reached out, pulling her slim waist close, his hot breath grazing her ear. "Today at the studio, I was cold to you… You're not upset?"

Elaine lowered her lashes, her voice docile. "I'm not upset, Mr. Andrews. I know my place and wouldn't dare dream beyond it."

A flicker of light in Dylan's eyes dimmed instantly.

As if losing all interest in the toy in his hands, he abruptly released her waist.

The force made her stumble.

He avoided her gaze, pacing her small apartment as if to shake off some inner restlessness.

On the coffee table lay an open passport, its fresh Eldoria visa glaring.

Dylan's steps halted. He reached out and picked it up. "Eldoria? What are you doing in Eldoria?"

Elaine answered without thinking. "Traveling."

"Traveling?" He dangled the passport, a mocking curve to his lips. "Tell me, Elaine, what kind of trip requires a work visa?"

Elaine froze, her mind racing so hard it nearly sparked.

Should she tell him the truth? What would he do if she admitted she was leaving? If he refused to let her go…

A thousand questions exploded in her head, leaving her speechless, pale, and rooted to the spot.

Just then, Dylan's phone rang from his pocket.

It was Alina's exclusive ringtone.

His attention shifted instantly. He answered, his voice softening. "Alina? … What? You're not feeling well? Don't worry, I'm coming right now."

He hung up, tossed the passport back on the table, and strode out, his tall figure vanishing through the door.

Elaine slumped against the wall, exhaling shakily.

Before she could catch her breath, her own phone buzzed.

An unfamiliar number.

She took a deep breath to steady her racing heart and answered. "Hello, who's this?"

A commanding middle-aged woman's voice came through. "Is this Miss Willis? I'm Alina's mother. Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, meet me at Hopkins' Bistro."

The call ended abruptly, leaving no room for questions or refusal.

Elaine clutched the beeping phone, her brows knitting tightly.

Alina's mother? Why would she want to meet? Was it about Alina?

The next afternoon, Elaine arrived at the bistro, her mind heavy with doubts.

A waiter led her through a quiet corridor to a secluded private room.

Pushing open the carved wooden door, she saw a middle-aged woman in a dark green dress, calmly pouring coffee, her movements graceful.

At the sound of the door, the woman turned unhurriedly.

Time seemed to freeze.

Elaine's blood rushed to her head, a dizzying wave nearly knocking her off balance.

That face! She'd recognize it even in ashes!

Tatiana Russell!

This was the woman who had torn apart her parents' marriage.

When the Willis family went bankrupt, her father transferred three hundred million in shared assets—meant for Elaine and her mother—to this woman.

While Elaine and her mother scraped by in poverty, hounded by debts, this mistress and her daughter lived lavishly abroad, spending freely.

Elaine never imagined that the woman who ruined her family and stole their fortune was… Alina's mother!