If I were the real leading actress, having a man like Russell thinking about me day and night, I’d probably be moved to tears.
Unfortunately, I’m just her stand-in. Every heartfelt word he says feels like a sharp needle piercing my heart.
Yep, I love Russell—or rather, I used to love him.
When he skipped an important board meeting because I was sick, when he planned a special trip abroad just for my birthday, when he ignored high-class women just to make my jealous self feel better…
He remembered all my preferences, but was all that affection really meant for me?
I was trapped, lost in my own confusion…
Until one night, just like tonight, he got drunk. And the only name he called out was Bernadette’s.
That was when I finally woke up—his love was never for me. I was nothing more than a substitute.
They say drunken words are sober thoughts. He only ever admitted the truth when he was wasted—he saw her through me.
And yes, there’s another reason I hate that woman. Because Russell doesn’t love me. He loves her.
When his hands started wandering, I pushed him away with all my strength. “You’re drunk.”
“Merylle, be good. Don’t move. Just let me hold you for a bit.”
‘Hold me? That’s what you call this? You’re clearly…’
His warm breath brushed against the back of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
“If you keep moving, I can’t promise what I’ll do next.”
“Russell, if you really wanted to, you would’ve done it already. Would you really wait until now?”
“Heh, you’re really acting like her now. Talking back to me?”
The corners of my mouth twitched. ‘So there’s always going to be someone between us, huh?’
“Merylle, just sleep. I won’t touch you.”
“Fine.”
But moments later, he turned me over and kissed me.
‘So this is what you call ‘not touching me’? You were just waiting for the right moment, weren’t you?’
His lips were cold. He didn’t notice the tear slipping from the corner of my eye—just as cold as he was.
With his eyes closed, he looked like he was completely lost in it. He must be picturing her right now, right?
‘Russell, I want to get back at you. I want to use everything I have.’
If you wake up tomorrow and realize you spent the night with a stand-in, how would you feel? Could you still face your precious first love?
I kissed him back passionately, trying to stir up the deepest desires buried inside him…
But then he suddenly shoved me away, hard, and called out her name.
“Damn… I’m not that drunk. Don’t even think about taking advantage of me.”
I coaxed him, “It’s me. Don’t you want me?”
Russell let out a chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Then he yanked the blanket over my head, cutting me off from the world. Muffled from beneath the covers, I barely caught his voice.
“Go to sleep. Stop messing around.”
The next morning, I opened my eyes. Russell was long gone from my bed. He must’ve gone back to his own room in the middle of the night.
That’s just how he is—calculating in business, always scheming. His mind is restless, his insomnia chronic. Sleeping somewhere unfamiliar just makes it worse.
“Where is he?” I asked while eating my breakfast—cabbage, bacon, and cheese egg pancakes, specially prepared by Mrs. Dunst, the housekeeper.
Of course, this was Russell’s doing too. I was only allowed to eat low-carb meals to maintain the figure of a Hollywood star.
Speaking of which, I can’t help but complain.
That Best Actress has everything going for her, but she refuses to look ugly. Even when playing a poor small-town woman, she has to keep that hourglass figure intact. She wouldn’t gain a single pound for a role, which is why some people criticize her for being too image-conscious and unrealistic.
But she has her reasons. As she gets older, her metabolism slows down. If she puts on weight, what if she can’t lose it again?
I respect her discipline. But it’s also my suffering.
I actually haven’t touched junk food in ages!
If someone waved a roasted chicken leg in front of me right now, I’d probably do anything for them.
