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!

Elaine's body trembled faintly, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, barely holding her composure.

Tatiana sipped her coffee calmly and smiled. "Miss Willis, let's be frank. I know about your relationship with the Andrews heir. If you leave him voluntarily and promise never to interfere with him and Alina again, I'll give you three million."

She slid a prepared check across the table with a dismissive flourish.

Her condescending demeanor and patronizing tone merged with memories of that alluring woman from years ago.

Eight years of suppressed hatred, humiliation, and resentment erupted, shattering Elaine's restraint and facade.

She ignored the check, locking eyes with Tatiana, her voice sharp. "Three million? Ms. Russell, you took three hundred million from my family back then. Is three million supposed to settle that debt?"

Tatiana's smile froze, a flash of shock crossing her face.

Elaine leaned forward, her gaze cutting like a blade, each word deliberate. "All these years, spending money stained with my mother's tears—don't you ever have nightmares? Doesn't your conscience ever stir?"

"You… you're talking nonsense!" Tatiana slammed the table and stood.

"Nonsense? Back then, I couldn't touch you because I had no leverage. But things are different now…"

Elaine's laugh was bleak, her eyes filled with resolve. "Your daughter, Alina, is a celebrated star. What if I expose her background? Tell everyone how her elegant, refined mother was a mistress who stole a fortune from the original wife, indirectly driving her to death… Would Alina's pure image hold up? Would the Andrews family accept a daughter-in-law with such a family?"

Tatiana panicked, pointing at Elaine, her voice shrill. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Elaine stood, towering over her. "I've got nothing left to lose. Tatiana, this is what you owe my mother and me!"

Without another glance at Tatiana's vile face, Elaine turned and left.

She took a cab straight to the old Willis house, frantically searching through her mother's belongings.

At last, she found it.

A kraft envelope containing faded photos, clear evidence of her father's affair with Tatiana.

Staring at her father's infatuated expression and Tatiana's youthful allure in the images, Elaine's tears spilled over.

She pulled out her phone and opened her social media account.

She would go live. She would tear off the polished mask of Tatiana and her daughter in front of everyone.

But just as she was about to hit the live button, a strong hand reached from behind and snatched her phone.

Elaine spun around in shock, meeting Dylan's fathomless eyes.