I was the D-list drama queen of the Hollywood scene, backed by Darren Ashford, the undisputed entertainment titan of the West Coast. No one knew that I was also the orphan student he had secretly funded for ten years—all because my face was a striking seven-tenths copy of his untouchable first love, Valerie Croft. Valerie was the darling of the industry, the pristine starlet everyone adored. But last night, paparazzi snapped her outside a luxury hotel alongside pop megastar Landon Perry. To protect her image, Darren ordered me to leak my own upcoming music video teasers with Landon, taking the hit for her secret rendezvous. This time, I didn’t throw a fit. I picked up my phone, tapped the screen, and sent the files. He blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking his composure. “What’s this? Are you aiming for the cover of “Vogue” next month, or the lead role in the upcoming indie feature?” Just then, glowing, translucent commentary hovered right before my eyes: [Don’t feel bad, sweetie! You’re the actual female lead of this showbiz story! Valerie is just the toxic side character!] [Thirteen years of companionship—how could he not feel anything? Darren is just looking at Valerie through nostalgia filters. He stopped loving her ages ago.] [He loves you without realizing it! Just give him a little more time~] I looked at the floating text and smiled a tired, quiet smile. I didn’t want a movie role. And I wasn’t going to give him any more time. I was just waiting for my contract to expire. This game of love between him and Valerie? I was officially opting out. … “Darren? Did she post it?” Valerie’s voice came through the speaker, sweet, high-pitched, and laced with gentle grievance. “Please don’t misunderstand. It was just the cast wrap party, and we were leaving the hotel when the paparazzi caught us. Landon and I are nothing.” Darren held a lit cigarette between two slender fingers. The dark, intimidating gaze he’d aimed at me seconds ago melted into instant softness. “Yeah. She posted it. Don’t worry about it, go to sleep early.” “Next time there’s a dinner,” he added softly, “let me pick you up.” I stood near the floor lamp, feeling lightheaded. The last time he had spoken to me in that gentle tone was three years ago. Three years ago, Valerie was caught in a scandal involving a shady producer at a private club. It was Darren who found me—then a quiet second-year law student—and asked me to pose as an ambitious starlet desperate for a director’s attention, taking the fallout for her. That night, my name flooded every gossip blog in the country. I knew Darren bought those front-page headlines specifically to shield Valerie. From that day on, the public branded me a shameless, clout-chasing D-lister. The very next day, he signed me to his agency, Astra Media, pushing me into the spotlight as Hollywood’s favorite villain. No one remembered Valerie’s scandal anymore. And no one knew I was the student he had funded from high school through my master’s degree. Even fewer knew that on the countless late nights when he returned home drunk and sleepless, I was the woman lying in his bed. I had once dreamed of becoming a trial lawyer. But because of him, I willingly stepped into the entertainment industry to serve as a hidden shadow. The turning point came two years ago after a near-fatal car crash. Darren was critically injured and urgently needed a rare blood type. Without a second thought, I gave a massive transfusion, collapsing right outside the trauma room. When I woke up, I had been rewritten in Valerie’s narrative as a greedy opportunist who demanded lead roles in exchange for saving his life. Valerie had wept to him, claiming she selflessly gave up her lead role just to convince me to save his life. Darren never checked the hospital logs. He believed every word. From that day forward, his warmth evaporated. He gave me orders, never tenderness. The floating text suddenly flickered rapidly: [Sweetie, don’t be sad! He just thinks you helped him for money and got his heart broken!] [Valerie is a complete fake! She flirts with multiple guys behind his back!] [Darren is just stubborn! Since he broke up with Valerie, you’re the only woman around him. He already has you in his heart!] [Yes! He even prepared a surprise gift for you at the end of the reality show!] My thoughts snapped back as Darren hung up the phone. He looked up at me cold-eyed. “So,” he said, flicking his ash. “What do you want this time?” “When my contract ends,” I said calmly, “give me my ten-million-dollar severance, and I won’t renew.” His brows drew together tight. “Found another agency?” “Is there any agency in the city bigger than Astra Media?” he sneered. “With your reputation as a toxic clout-chaser, who else would take you?” “You don’t need to worry about that, Mr. Ashford. Just prepare the money.” I draped my coat over my arm and turned toward the bedroom. “Are you staying tonight? If not, lock the door on your way out.” His face darkened completely. He let out a cold laugh. “Fine. Walk out of Astra’s doors, and don’t ever think about crawling back.” He snatched his tailored suit jacket and slammed the door behind him. I had secretly hoped for the fairy-tale endings those floating texts promised. But I couldn’t bear another round of heartbreak. I had been seeing those floating comments ever since that blood donation two years ago. At first, I foolishly trusted them. Back then, even though Darren believed Valerie’s lies, he still had his private doctor deliver three doses of rare blood-replenishing medication to my room. Yet he never stepped foot into my hospital room himself. The comments had flashed across my vision back then: [Look, sweetie! He cares about you! His mother forced them to break up years ago, so he feels guilty toward Valerie, but you’re the one he loves! The original plot says he’ll pick you up from the hospital and confess once he finds out the truth!] I waited by the hospital door until night fell, but he never came. Later, when I went home, I saw the news. He was attending Valerie’s premiere party. The hashtag “#DarrenAndValerieReunited” topped the trends all night. I collapsed on the hardwood floor with a severe fever. It wasn’t until the cleaning lady arrived the next afternoon that anyone lifted me up. When the cleaning lady mentioned it to him, he only offered a dismissive laugh: “She got her movie role. Passing out for a bit isn’t going to kill her.” Over three years, things like this happened countless times. When Valerie threw diva tantrums on set, I took the blame and got torn apart online. When Valerie got caught secretly meeting male fans, I was the one who wore the “clout-chaser” label to draw the fire away. I survived again and again relying on the hints from those floating texts. And through every single choice he made in Valerie’s favor, my love for him was scraped away until nothing remained. …… The next morning, I followed the address sent by the production team to the location of the slow-paced reality show, “The Country Escape”. It was a show where Valerie and I were both regulars. During the filming of the first episode, Darren’s text messages to me had been endless. Valerie couldn’t cook, so he forced me to prepare a six-course meal two hours in advance, only for the editors to cut the footage to make Valerie look like a master chef. When Landon Perry’s luggage was accidentally knocked into a ravine by Valerie, Darren called me immediately, forcing me to take the blame publicly—even making me wear a low-cut top to apologize to Landon so the media could spin a “desperate starlet targeting pop star” story to clear Valerie’s name. But this time, the address sent to my phone led to a desolate, abandoned trail deep in the hills. By the time night fell, I still hadn’t found my way out. My palms were scratched and bleeding from sharp branches, and my ankle was badly sprained. I called Darren more than ten times. Every call went straight to voicemail. He was the executive guest star for this episode. The floating text later informed me: [His phone is on silent because he’s helping Valerie rehearse her lines.] When I finally managed to contact the producers, I realized no one on the crew had ever sent me that address. [Valerie used a burner phone to fake the text! She did it on purpose to sabotage you!] [Darren actually asked the director where you were just now! He is thinking about you~] I ignored the glowing messages and limped toward the actual filming compound. As I reached the rustic courtyard, I heard Valerie’s soft, airy voice chiming in: “Please don’t blame little Callie, everyone. She’s young and headstrong, it’s normal for her to throw a little temper. I’ll apologize on her behalf.” The host turned to Darren, the special guest. The entire internet was obsessing over their “reunited lovers” dynamic. “Mr. Ashford, Callie Lawson is an artist under your agency. What do you think about her missing the shoot without notice and playing the diva?” Darren held a glass of ice water. His eyes scanned the courtyard gate for the third time, his brow furrowed tightly. “She doesn’t know the rules. When we get back, I will discipline her according to company protocol.” The moment his words landed, I pushed the wooden gate open, dragging my injured leg behind me. Ignoring the cameras, I marched straight toward the lenses, holding up my phone to display the fake address message sent under the show’s name. Seeing me, Darren’s instinct was immediate—he stepped forward, subtly shielding Valerie behind his shoulder. “Callie,” he snapped in a low, stern voice. “We are filming right now. If you want to cause a scene, pick the right time and place.” I stared at his protective stance over her, and a laugh escaped my throat. I raised my phone, my voice flatter than it had ever been in my life. “Who said I was causing a scene? I came to apologize.” “I took a wrong turn on the way here and delayed the shoot. I’m sorry to keep everyone waiting.” He froze instantly. The arm he had raised to block Valerie remained suspended mid-air. He had probably never seen me like this. No screaming, no tears, no demands, no coaxing. Not even a single word of self-defense. I was obedient to a fault, distant, like someone who was never coming back. The moment the behind-the-scenes footage leaked, the media exploded. “#CallieLawsonDivaBehavior” “#DarrenProtectsHisMuse” “#CallieLawsonLeaveShowbiz” The trending topics were stacked back to back. I scrolled through my screen without a hint of emotion. Over three years, I had gone from crying myself to sleep over public hatred to feeling completely numb. Fifteen more days. Once the contract expired, I would walk away for good. My phone vibrated. It was a text from Darren. Four words: “Backyard. Now. Come out.” The text overlays flashed instantly: [Darren is heartbroken seeing you like this! He asked the crew to pause filming just to see you in private!] [Valerie asked him to go stargazing in the mountains, but he refused! He stayed behind just for you!] [Sweetie, explain it to him! He will definitely believe you!] I dragged my sprained ankle to the back patio, the hem of my pants stained with mud. Darren leaned against a wooden pillar. His eyes swept over my blood-caked palm and my heavily swollen ankle. His brows slammed together, and he took a half-step toward me before forcing himself to halt. “How did you end up like this?” His tone carried a strange, agitated edge. “Are you completely directionless? You can’t even read a map address?” “I was running through the script with Valerie earlier and had my phone on silent, so I missed your calls…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Next time, I’ll set a special ringtone for you.” “Valerie sent me that address impersonating the crew,” I interrupted flatly. His expression turned icy in a split second. “Impossible. Valerie wouldn’t do something like that.” “Callie, while I still have patience, don’t push your luck.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Of course.” The hope that the floating comments had tried to plant in me shattered completely, once again. “Is that why Mr. Ashford called me out here?” I asked. “If you have instructions, just give them.” A flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “You delayed the shooting schedule by being late. Valerie doesn’t know how to cook, and the whole crew is waiting for dinner.” “Go to the kitchen and make the meals.” I held up my hand, showing him the scraped flesh and blood dried over my skin. “My hand is torn up, and my ankle is sprained. You still want me to cook?” His throat moved as he swallowed, a moment of hesitation clearly crossing his face. “Fine. I’ll order catering and say Astra Media is treating the crew.” Just then, Valerie ran over, her eyes glistening with tears. She wrapped her arms around his elbow, her voice trembling gently. “Darren… if you order catering, won’t everyone find out I can’t cook?” “I have several cookware brand endorsements in negotiations right now. My ‘domestic goddess’ image can’t break…” She turned to me, looking utterly fragile. “Callie, if you have any conditions, just name them. I’ll give you whatever I can.” I smiled faintly. “Ten million dollars.” Darren stared at me, his voice devoid of warmth. “Are you insane? Ten million dollars for a single meal? Callie, your greed is getting disgusting.” “Then cook it yourself,” I said softly. He held my gaze, his voice chillingly cold. “Fine. I’ll wire it to you.” “Thank you, Mr. Ashford. Wire it now, please.” “Callie,” he sneered, leaning in close, “you should be grateful that you have that face. It’s the only reason you’re qualified to negotiate with me.” The words hit like fine needles thrust deep into my chest. I clenched my fists, forcing back the burning tears, and turned toward the kitchen. Inside, the exhaust fan hummed loudly. As I chopped the vegetables, my mind drifted. Thirteen years ago, my father died in a tragic construction accident. My mother and I had stood outside Ashford Properties holding a banner, begging for an explanation. Darren was twenty-six then, having just taken over the family empire. He had crouched down and lifted my chin to look at me. With that single glance, I became his charity case. He funded my education from high school through my master’s degree. I should have understood long ago that every ounce of kindness he ever showed me was solely because of this face. How else could a girl raised in the mud like me have stayed by his side for thirteen years? Distracted by my thoughts, a burst of boiling oil splattered out of the pan, searing the back of my hand. I gasped from the sharp pain. Suddenly, a firm hand caught my wrist, pulling me back into a chest that smelled of cool pine. “Why are you being so careless?” It was Landon Perry. I immediately took a step back, pulling myself out of his arms. Landon was the top-tier pop star and a fellow regular on this show. When I first arrived at the compound, the crew had sent him to town for groceries, and he had just returned. He took the spatula from my hand. “Let me handle it.” I blinked. “You? The pop prince knows how to cook?” “I studied abroad when I was younger,” he said, rolling up his sleeves with smooth, practiced movements. “You learn to do everything yourself.” “No need,” I said. “I’m getting paid ten million for this. I can’t let you do my job.” He chuckled softly, and without taking no for an answer, he gently nudged me down onto a small wooden stool nearby. “Your hand and foot are wrecked. If you keep pushing it, tomorrow’s headline will be “Callie Lawson Plays Diva and Delays Production On Purpose”.” I stared at his profile, a trace of suspicion in my eyes. “You’re not sent by Valerie to set me up, are you?” After all, the paparazzi scandal outside the hotel was just two days ago. He only gave a light laugh without answering, his movements over the stove fluid and effortless. When the food was ready, Valerie walked into the kitchen and saw Landon at the stove. Her expression darkened instantly. “Landon! Why are you helping her cook?” she whined softly. “Did you forget how she knocked your luggage into the ravine last time and purposefully wore a low-cut shirt to get close to you?” “Your fans hate scheming, greedy women like her the most.” Landon turned off the burner and plated the dish without looking up. “Who actually knocked my luggage down the slope last time—are you sure you want to talk about that?” “I only kept quiet because my manager pushed me to,” he raised his eyes, looking at her with cold indifference. “Besides, I’m terminating my contract with the agency soon to start my own studio. I don’t have much to hide anymore.” I stood to the side, completely stunned. Valerie flushed with anger, grabbed the dishes, and walked out. Landon walked over to his room, retrieved a first-aid kit, and pulled my injured wrist toward him to apply medicine. The moment his fingertips touched my wound, another grip slammed down onto my wrist, pulling me back with fierce force. Darren stood at the kitchen doorway, his face darker than a storm cloud. “Landon. She’s an artist under Astra Media. It’s not your place to play the gentleman here.” Landon didn’t let go. He met Darren’s gaze with a smirk. “Mr. Ashford certainly cares for his employees. Her hand is burned, her ankle is swollen, and you’re forcing her to cook for your sweet muse?” Landon turned his gaze to me. “Callie, your contract is expiring soon, right? Why don’t you come to my studio? You can pick whatever projects you want.” “She will renew,” Darren said, his grip on my wrist tightening until it bruised. “I haven’t said I’m letting her go.” He pulled me out toward the quiet corner of the backyard, stopping only when we were completely alone. “Is Landon Perry the new backer you found?” His voice was laced with suppressed fury. “Did he offer you more than I did?” My wrist throbbed with pain. I tried to pull away twice but couldn’t. Exhaustion and absurdity washed over me. “Mr. Ashford, can you stop assuming the worst of everyone? I’m tired.” “I don’t want to spend my life as Valerie’s stand-in, and I certainly don’t want to be your secret mistress.” “I will not renew this contract.” The floating text exploded before my eyes: [Darren is panicking! Look at his eyes!] [Sweetie, wait a little longer! He specifically negotiated the lead role in that major legal drama film you always wanted to star in!] [He’s just bad with words! He doesn’t know how to express his feelings!] Darren’s throat rolled. His voice softened, carrying a rare note of coaxing. “Callie, I was going to tell you after the show finished.” “I know you’ve always wanted to play a lawyer. I secured the female lead in a top-tier legal film for you.” “Even with that, you still refuse to renew?” My heart gave a sudden, sharp thud. Becoming a great attorney had indeed been my dream for years—a dream I had completely abandoned for his sake. Seeing my silence, he took half a step closer. “Give me your answer tomorrow.” “In all these years, you are the only woman who has been by my side. Do you really still not understand my heart?” Understand what? Understand that I was a shadow meant to take the blame whenever called upon? I didn’t answer, but my mind was in turmoil all night. Early the next morning, as soon as I finished washing up, I refreshed my feed and saw Valerie’s latest post on social media. It was a photo of a script cover, captioned: “Lawyer Queen, coming soon~” I took my phone and went to find Darren, wanting a straight answer. He looked subtly uncomfortable. “Valerie thought the movie was a birthday gift from me and posted it prematurely.” His explanation felt rushed. “I prepared a different lead role for her, but she got confused. Callie… let Valerie have this lead role first.” The text overlays were screaming with rage: [Sweetie! Valerie overheard you guys and posted it first on purpose! She’s so toxic!] [Don’t be angry, sweetie! We don’t need this one movie!] [Just wait for the next one, Darren has tons of resources!] I looked at him, and suddenly, I laughed. The very last flicker of hesitation in my heart vanished, leaving behind total clarity. “It doesn’t matter, Mr. Ashford.” “I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving the industry.” His face changed instantly. “Callie Lawson, you still have half a month left on your contract with Astra. The penalty for breach of contract is fifty million…” “I’ll pay it,” I interrupted him cleanly. “With the ten million you wired me yesterday, I have enough saved to cover it.” I turned around, walked past him, and stepped right in front of the main camera crew set up in the courtyard. Looking directly into the lens, I spoke clearly: “I, Callie Lawson, am officially retiring from the entertainment industry today.” “As for this show—I’m done filming.”
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