Chapter 2

2

Shortly after he left, my management agency called.

A paparazzi had captured intimate photos of him with another woman and wanted a high price to bury them.

The photos showed him and Kayla walking through a luxury mall, his arm draped over her shoulders.

In our seven years together, he was always terrified of being seen.

We only ever went to the most private restaurants, never appearing in public together.

Now, he was not only publicly claiming to be in love but also taking his "sweetheart" to the mall?

I told them not to spend a single cent to hide it.

That night, my usual insomnia returned.

Suddenly, the bed dipped. Ashton climbed in, smelling of fresh shower steam.

He buried his face in my shoulder.

"I'm so tired."

I'm sure he was. He had skipped sleep for a red-eye flight and spent the whole day celebrating with Kayla.

Maybe he even went on a date with her before coming back.

The thought made me reach for the water on the nightstand, subtly pulling away from him.

He quickly grabbed the glass for me and held it to my lips.

I took a small sip from his hand just to get him to stop.

Satisfied, he lay back down.

"Have you stopped messaging me lately? I wanted to bring you dinner, but I had to scroll forever to find our group."

I didn't answer his question.

"It's fine. I had dinner with an old friend of my parents tonight."

She had brought me some hopeful news.

A pharmaceutical company in Switzerland was developing an experimental drug for my condition.

The success rate wasn't high, and I'd have to stay there for a long time, but it was a chance.

I cherished this sliver of hope and planned to leave as soon as the company was settled.

"I knew it. You're not like Kayla. You can take care of yourself without help."

Ashton mured as he drifted off to sleep.

On social media, Kayla posted a photo of a bowl of homemade porridge.

"Happiness is having someone cook for you when your stomach hurts―handmade by a superstar."

I had known Ashton for years, yet I never knew he could cook.

I let out a self-deprecating laugh. No one is born knowing how to take care of themselves.

My parents died young, and after being with him, he was always flying around for work.

I was the one reminding him to eat and stay healthy.

Since no one cared if I ate, I had to be the one to care for myself.

Driven by the hope of treatment abroad, I went to the office early the next morning.

Before long, Ashton called, his voice dark and brooding.

"The housekeeper said you already left for work."

"What about it?"

"You knew I was leaving for Chicago this afternoon, and you left early just to avoid me! Is this really worth holding a grudge over?"

I stayed silent for a moment.

"I'm at the office for business. I didn't even know when you were leaving."

He let out a cold laugh.

"You didn't know? Maren, don't lie. I know you check every detail of my schedule. You were the one who rejected those romantic leads for me because you didn't like me getting close to actresses."

I had indeed pushed him to reject those roles, but it was because the scripts were trash.

But I hadn't even clicked on his schedule sent by the agency in weeks.

"Believe what you want. I don't look at your schedule every time anymore. From now on, take whatever roles you want. I won't interfere."

Ashton didn't get the submissive answer he wanted and hung up in a huff.

Just like many times before, he would go away for work, ignore my texts, and wait for me to beg for his forgiveness when he returned.

I smiled weakly and told my secretary to continue the briefing.