Callie began coming and going from Hale’s building like she owned the place. Everyone assumed she was Mrs. Hale.
After all, I had kept a low profile at Halestone Entertainment, never revealing my relationship with Damien. But Callie was different. She’d call out to him loudly in the corridors, act sweet and clingy, and even deliver takeout to his office like a devoted girlfriend.
As for me, I never went back after the first time—when Damien looked at me coldly and asked what I was doing there. From that moment on, I became just another low-tier actress in everyone’s eyes—just another nobody trying to get close to the CEO.
Callie, with her innocent charm and Damien’s quiet backing, rose to fame quickly. Resources were funneled toward her without hesitation.
One day, Ruth asked me if I knew Callie.
“I don’t,” I replied flatly.
She immediately launched into a rant, complaining about Callie’s behavior. “She’s got someone powerful behind her, obviously,” she scoffed. “Steals every endorsement she wants, and now she’s snatching roles too.”
Only when I lost three endorsement deals in a row did I realize—Callie was deliberately targeting me.
And Damien? From the moment I entered this industry, he never once offered me special treatment. Even when we passed each other in the building, he would act like he didn’t know me.
Still, I didn’t consider divorce. Not yet. I really did like him.
Until something happened—something small, at least to him. But it was the moment I knew we couldn’t go on.
It was during a popular outdoor variety show. Both Callie and I had been invited. The atmosphere on set was friendly, even light-hearted. Callie played the bright and bubbly starlet, while I focused on performing well in the games.
That day, Damien showed up on set—a rare occurrence. The producers and directors all scrambled to greet him.
Then the accident happened.
A bamboo bridge over the lake, worn and unstable, suddenly gave way while Callie and I were standing on it. We both fell into the water.
Panic broke out. Staff rushed forward to help.
But before anyone else could react, Damien—the president of the Hale Group—leapt into the lake.
For a moment, I was relieved. I couldn’t swim, and he was my husband. Surely, he was here for me.
But then I saw him reach for Callie.
He pulled her into his arms and swam straight to shore.
My heart went still.
In that instant, I understood—after three years of marriage, he didn’t love me.
He didn’t even look back.
He carried her to his Rolls-Royce, face pale with worry, moving as fast as he could. As I slipped beneath the surface, choking on water, the last thing I saw was the car driving away.
When the crew finally dragged me out, I was unconscious.
Everyone had assumed someone else would save me. But once Damien jumped in, the others backed off, thinking he had it handled. It wasn’t until the assistant director shouted my name that they realized—I was still missing.
I was rushed to the hospital. The show went on hiatus.
When I woke up, only Ruth was by my side, eyes red and worried.
I shifted and found I could move. “I’m not dead,” I said softly.
She burst into tears. “Don’t say that! You scared me half to death, Serena! All because President Hale made a show of saving that Callie—everyone forgot about you! Aren’t you angry?”
“No,” I said.
Because I wasn’t. My heart was strangely calm.
I had believed that husband and wife were a unit—that in a crisis, he’d choose me.
But reality delivered a cold, hard truth.
Maybe we were never meant to be.
That afternoon, I was discharged from the hospital. Outside, I saw Damien.
He was gently supporting Callie, while my parents walked behind them, all smiling like a happy family.
Callie leaned on Damien like a fragile flower. My mother was fussing over her, placing a coat on her shoulders. My father was nodding and laughing, pleased.
They looked complete—like I’d never been part of the picture at all.
They had all forgotten about me.
I stared blankly at their backs—my parents fussing over Callie, Damien quietly supporting her like they were the perfect family. My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone and found the lawyer’s number that Ruth had recommended.
“Hello,” I said calmly. “Please help me draft a divorce agreement.”
