I took a deep breath of the cool night air, and the stifling heaviness in my chest seemed to ease at last.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and dialed the only number in my contacts without a name attached.

It rang once before the call was answered.

"Jamie, come pick me up."

A steady, respectful voice replied from the other end, "Yes, Miss."

Ten minutes later, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up in front of me.

Jamie Melford hurried out of the car and opened the rear door for me. He bowed slightly, his voice tinged with emotion.

"Miss, welcome home."

I gave a small nod and stepped inside.

I slipped off my work uniform jacket and tossed it casually onto the wool carpet by my feet.

As the city lights streamed past the window, everything that had just happened felt like some absurd dream—one that was quickly fading into the distance.

Only then did I take out my other phone and dial my best friend, Cathy Thompson.

"Cathy, book me a booth at VIVA tonight—the top one."

A shrill scream burst from the other end of the line.

"Holy shit! Mel, you finally decided to dump that jerk?"

I let out a soft laugh, gazing at the dazzling neon outside.

"Your girl's single again. Time to throw a party."

Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a top-tier apartment building in the city center.

I had returned to the place that truly belonged to me—a duplex penthouse spanning the top three floors.

Barefoot, I walked into the dressing room. Rows of motion-sensor lights flickered on one after another.

Under their glow, racks of couture gowns and limited-edition handbags—long neglected and dusted with a thin layer of gray—regained their rightful brilliance.

I reached out at random and slipped into a red silk slip dress.

Standing before the full-length mirror, I looked at the woman reflected there—familiar, yet strangely distant.

Bright eyes, flawless teeth, lips as red as flame, a hint of languid confidence in her gaze.

This was Melanie Hawkins. This was who I truly was.

I gently touched my cheek and whispered to my reflection, "Melanie… welcome home."

Then I opened my contacts, found the name "Harvey Schur," and blocked and deleted every way he could reach me.

When it was done, I felt lighter than I had in years—as if I had finally pulled out a decayed tooth. It hurt a little, but the relief far outweighed the pain.

Early the next morning, Harvey was set to leave for the airport.

Perhaps because we would never meet again, his pitiful conscience made a rare appearance, prompting him to call and say goodbye.

What he didn't expect was that the familiar ringtone would no longer greet him.

Instead, a cold, mechanical female voice answered, "Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service."

Before the party at VIVA began, I pulled my best friend Cathy aside.

"Cathy, I need a favor."

She had been busily directing the waitstaff as they arranged a champagne tower. At my words, she leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Say it, my queen. What does your loyal knight need to do for you?"

I smiled and handed her my backup phone.

"Use your number to register a new video account for me."

Though puzzled, Cathy did it without hesitation.

Once the account was set up, I had her post just one video.

It was short—barely fifteen seconds.

The camera slowly swept across VIVA's most exclusive booth, The Legacy. The table was lined with bottles of Armand de Brignac and Perrier-Jouët.

A group of well-dressed men and women laughed and played, the atmosphere at its peak.

At the very end, the shot froze on a hand wearing a Patek Philippe celestial watch.

Those long, elegant fingers lifted a bottle of Armand de Brignac and poured me a drink.

For the caption, I wrote only four words: [New life. New beginning.]

Before posting, I paid for targeted promotion.

The audience I selected included only two groups: Harvey, and every single one of his friends.

When it was done, I returned the phone to Cathy with a satisfied smile and gave her a wink.

"The show's about to begin."

And sure enough, less than five minutes after the video went live, the alumni group chat with hundreds of members exploded.

Someone immediately took a screenshot and sent it privately to Harvey.

[@Harvey Holy shit, man, what's going on with your girlfriend?]

[You haven't even left yet, and she's already celebrating being single?]

[Damn, her new guy doesn't look simple. That booth alone must cost six figures for the night, right?]

[That watch—Patek Philippe? Am I seeing things? That's worth millions!]

[Harvey, are you getting cheated on? Go check it out before someone steals your girl!]

Message after message flooded the chat, filled with jeers, speculation, and people enjoying the drama.

Already restless from being unable to reach me, Harvey's expression turned into a shifting palette of red and white as he saw the video and the comments.

He didn't even have time to think it through. He flagged down a taxi on the roadside and rushed straight to VIVA—only to be stopped by security at the entrance.

Through the surveillance feed, I watched leisurely as he paced anxiously outside. He wore that same cheap, faded casual outfit, looking painfully out of place among the elegantly dressed crowd.

I lifted my glass and took a sip of champagne, then smiled at the club manager standing beside me.

"Thomas, let him in."

He hesitated. "Miss, that… might not be a good idea. He looks like he's here to cause trouble."

I set down my glass, a cold glint flashing in my eyes.

"I want him to cause trouble. Let him in. Everything he spends tonight goes on my tab. I want him to see clearly."

Thomas nodded and immediately relayed the order through his radio.

At the VIVA party, I was unquestionably the center of attention.

The music thundered, the lights flickered in a hazy glow.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out in the distance. An out-of-place figure shoved through the crowd, heading straight toward me.

Harvey stormed up to me. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes locked onto mine, his face twisted with fury and betrayal.

"Melanie! Have you lost your mind?!"