Natalie posted an update to her feed.
*Since I caused your pain, I will spend my life making amends.*
Attached was a photo of her tending to Carter Walker at his hospital bedside.
She had clearly staged the shot. "No-makeup" makeup. A form-fitting white dress designed to look innocent yet alluring. Her delicate features glowed more dazzling than a carefully arranged bouquet.
In such a short time, she had not only persuaded Carter not to press charges but had also maneuvered herself into the role of his personal caretaker.
I chuckled darkly.
Carter Walker wasn't known for his benevolence. He was a shark. I was genuinely curious to see if she could achieve her delusional "rich wife" dreams now that she had kicked away her stepping stone—me.
A week later, negotiations with the investor concluded smoothly. The project was greenlit.
"Evan, I'm very optimistic about this," the investor said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "The board has decided to inject another ten million in funding. No additional conditions."
My pulse quickened.
Ten million.
Just as I opened my mouth to thank him, my phone began to ring. I declined the call. It rang again immediately.
And a third time.
I moved to power it off, but the investor waved his hand. "Answer it. It might be urgent."
Apologizing profusely, I stepped out of the hotel conference room and swiped answer.
"Evan Dickerson, did you pull strings behind my back?" Natalie's voice was a shrill shriek. "Why didn't Director Wang cast me? Even after we broke up, you're haunting me like a ghost! Are you trying to sabotage me?"
I leaned against the corridor wall. A mocking smile surfaced.
"You have no professional training, no connections, and zero acting experience. On what grounds would Director Wang cast you?" I asked coolly. "Did you really think your talent got you that role in the last life? It was because I paid him five million to let you buy your way in."
In the previous life, that low-budget drama had exploded in popularity, yet I hadn't seen a dime of return. Director Wang had despised Natalie's acting. I had tried to frame the five million as an investment, but he refused.
In the end, I changed the terms: the five million was simply her "entry fee." The drama's profits would have nothing to do with me. Only then did he reluctantly agree, fulfilling Natalie's stardom dream.
I knew it was a sunk cost. Money could be earned again, but I had wanted to give her a future before I went to prison. To keep her from overthinking it, I had buried the truth deep in my heart for eight years.
Silence stretched on the line.
"Just five million?" Natalie finally scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "Do you think I can't afford that? Evan, without you dragging me down, I'll live a better life than you ever could!"
She hung up.
I returned to the meeting, finalized the details, and headed home.
The moment I stepped into my apartment, the cloying scent of sweet perfume hit me. Natalie's signature scent.
Frowning, I strode to the desk. The drawer hung open.
I stared into the empty space.
In our past life, I had promised Natalie two gold accessories every month. But my financial burden was heavy. To save money, I bought her real gold—but for myself, I bought high-quality fakes to keep up appearances.
The drawer had been full of that fake gold.
She claimed she didn't want my "bad karma" affecting her, yet she had broken into my home to loot me. The drawer was wiped clean. She hadn't left a single link.
The last shred of sentiment I held for her evaporated.
