I am known in Hollywood for my hourglass figure and seductive roles. A bombshell, they call me. Yet, for five years in this industry, no one dared to touch me with "unspoken rules." Because behind me stood the Prince of New York, Christian Vance. We were together for seven years. I thought we would get married. Who knew that on my 28th birthday, I would hear him laughing with his friends: "Playing with Sophia is fine, but for marriage? I have someone else in mind." So I took back my heart. As he wished, I stayed only for the money, not the man. But Christian wasn't used to it. He stared at me intently: "Besides the villa, you don't want anything else?" I feigned surprise: "You mean I can ask for a Rolls-Royce too?" 1 Christian got out of bed with a dark face, dressing with his back to me. The scratch marks I left were still visible on his skin. From dressing to leaving, he didn't say a single word. I watched his retreating figure in confusion, unsure why he was suddenly so angry. Did he think I was too greedy? Fine. Contentment is key to happiness. I hesitated for a few minutes between calling to apologize or leaving him alone, and chose to put down my phone. A sensible mistress shouldn't interfere too much in her patron's private life. It's annoying. I walked barefoot into the living room. Several Hermès bags sat on the sofa. Christian brought them back from a business trip to Paris. Exclusive editions, not available here. I picked the one I liked best. For the others, I took photos and sent them to my contact, [Luxury Resale Kelly], with a note: [Brand new with receipt.] She quoted a price quickly. My eyes lit up. Not enough for a Rolls-Royce Phantom, but a base model Ghost would be no problem. I had no hobby of collecting designer bags. To me, they were no different from a $20 bag from Amazon, unless I needed one to keep up appearances at a specific event. But Christian loved to give them. Every year's new collection was delivered to me. This year, everything he gave me was converted into cash, sitting in my bank account earning interest. Better than collecting dust. I put the bag away and went to sleep beautifully. I slept soundly all night, not caring where Christian went. 2 Early the next morning, I got a call from my best friend, Chloe. Chloe swallowed hard and asked carefully, "Did you break up with Christian?" I wasn't fully awake yet. "No, why do you ask?" "Check the trending topics." I opened Twitter with sleepy eyes. The number one trending topic was: Christian Vance and Isabella Astor, daughter of the Chairman of Sotheby's Asia-Pacific, are rumored to be tying the knot. The photo was incredibly artistic. In the Vance estate gardens, they stood by the lake. Isabella wore Christian's grey suit jacket over her shoulders, tilting her head and smiling at him. Only half of Christian's face was visible, his mesmerizing eyes lowered. Though unclear, outsiders could imagine the deep affection in his gaze. I sighed. The photographer was a genius. 【Prince of NY vs. Auction House Heiress. This is what a power couple looks like!】 【Cinderella stories only exist in novels. Real life is about matching status.】 【Didn't rumors say Bombshell Sophia was backed by the Prince? So who's the side chick?】 【Obviously Sophia. No acting skills, no family background. Just a face and body. How could she enter the Vance family?】 【Don't call her Bombshell Sophia anymore. Call her Mistress Sophia.】 I scrolled through the comments, dazed. Chloe kept calling my name: "Sophia, Sophia!" I finally snapped back. "Mm." She lowered her voice, asking carefully, "Sophia, are you... sad?" I smiled. "Sad? Why should I be sad?" What right do I have to be sad? 3 Junior year, I was an exchange student in New York. At a party for international students, I met Christian. Even among international students, there's a hierarchy. He was at the very top, the center of attention. The party was even at his penthouse. I was the unlucky one pushed into the pool by a rejected, angry suitor. My bikini top was ripped off in the struggle. I curled up in the corner of the pool, enduring the gaze of the crowd. Angry, humiliated, wishing I could drown. They whispered about whether I did it on purpose—a commoner trying to use her body to climb the social ladder. Christian descended like a god, draping a bathrobe over me. He bent down and said, "Go to the bathroom and clean up." Looking at his face, my heart suddenly raced. I could hear the thunderous beating of my heart. I wondered if he could too. I wrapped the robe tight. "Thank you." I rushed to the bathroom and changed. When I came out, I saw the guy who pushed me laughing in the crowd. I charged over, grabbed his hair, and dunked his head into the pool water. I held him there until his cursing turned to begging, then to crying and pleading for mercy. Finally, I yanked off his swim trunks and threw them away. When I let go, he didn't dare look at me, scrambling to find his trunks. I raised my chin proudly like a victor. Turning around, I met Christian's amused gaze. My mind went blank. Oh no, would he think I was too aggressive? Later, Christian said he loved the way I proudly dunked that guy's head, like a strutting peacock. Between us, he started it. He pursued me passionately, confessed, and declared my status to the world. Even after I entered Hollywood, he cleared obstacles for me, becoming the ladder I climbed step by step. But, he was also the one who personally cut off my delusions. 4 Six months ago, on my 28th birthday, he organized a celebration, promising the grandest party ever. This year was our seventh year together. I thought he might propose, so I couldn't resist sneaking a peek beforehand. Instead, I overheard him chatting with a few friends. "Chris, you put so much effort into Sophia. Planning to propose?" Christian, in a bespoke white suit looking like a prince, spoke words that instantly froze my heart: "Sophia is beautiful. But playing with her is fine. For marriage? I have someone else in mind." "Is it Miss Astor?" He scoffed. "You think you know everything?" "So you'll break up with Sophia after getting married?" "Yeah. Loyalty in marriage is basic respect for a partner." His friend gasped. "Sophia will cry herself to death. She loves you so much." "Love? It's just a transaction of needs." The friend's eyes lit up. "Say what you will, Sophia is gorgeous. The most beautiful in Hollywood. When you break up, can I keep her?" Christian shot him a cold look. They might have said more, but I couldn't listen anymore. He said our seven years were just a transaction. I stepped back, found a secluded spot, and cried for half an hour until my makeup was ruined. Finally, I redid my makeup, changed into a gown, and attended the party he threw for me as if nothing happened. Fireworks bloomed for thirty minutes, but I only saw four words: Transaction of Needs. Since then, I reminded myself repeatedly: Do not invest feelings anymore. I thought I couldn't do it. But I discovered human potential is infinite. I gradually withdrew from the emotion, becoming someone who only wanted money, not the man. 4 (Continued) Since that's the case, I won't be a hypocrite. I smiled at Chloe on the phone. "Christian and I aren't what you think. You don't need to worry about me." When I refreshed the page, the trending topic and photos had disappeared. I knew the Vance family had intervened. However, if it wasn't true, who would dare gossip about Christian's marriage? This meant his "good news" was indeed approaching. No wonder he left so fast last night. He was getting married and wanted to save money for his wife, so he didn't want to give me this villa. I sighed, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and took in the magnificent view, reluctantly saying goodbye to this luxury villa worth nine figures. For the next few days, Christian didn't contact me or come back. I knew he was waiting for me to leave voluntarily. During these days, I sold the remaining designer bags. In the end, I only took one suitcase, packing my few belongings. Dragging the suitcase downstairs, the housekeeper, Mrs. Zhang, asked, "Miss, going to film again?" I smiled and nodded. "Yes. Goodbye, Mrs. Zhang." This life of luxury was over. I had bought my own place years ago. Though not as grand as the Vance Villa, it was spacious and clean. I had no work, sleeping at home until I didn't know if the sun was up or down, calling it "healing from heartbreak." Chloe, worried I might do something stupid, visited often. Seeing me eating and drinking well, she got ideas and dragged me to a very private bar. In the car, she winked at me. "The quality is excellent."
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