On the night I finally won the Academy Award for Best Actress, a troll account leaked a video of me from years ago. In it, I was heavily, undeniably pregnant. The auditorium erupted into pure chaos. Every reporter in the room shoved their microphones in my face, screaming the exact same question: "Ms. Vance, who is the father of the child?!" I turned and looked at Tristan Sterling. His face was frozen in absolute shock. The man who was famous for being coldly composed and utterly unshakable had just lost his composure in public for the very first time. I turned back to the reporters, smiled gracefully, and denied it. "I don't have a child." Years ago, when Tristan abandoned me to save his childhood best friend, it sealed our fate. It guaranteed that he and I would never, ever have a future together. Right before I stepped out of the limo to walk the red carpet, my manager, Chloe, gave me one final, stern warning. "If you run into Savannah Hayes, pretend she doesn't exist. Under no circumstances are you to start drama with her tonight." I couldn't exactly blame her. Savannah's financial backer was Tristan Sterling. Half of the entertainment industry was owned by the Sterling family. There used to be an ugly, unspoken rule in Hollywood: If you want to be famous, you have to sleep with Tristan Sterling. It was crude, but the reality was that any woman remotely connected to Tristan saw her career skyrocket. Except for me. I was the only woman who had publicly dated Tristan Sterling, and I was the only one who almost got blacklisted from the industry because of it. Because I had offended his precious childhood friend. For six grueling years after our breakup, it didn't matter how hard I worked. It didn't matter how much the public praised my acting. I never won a single award. Time and time again, I was nominated just to sit in the audience and watch someone else take the trophy. It ground away all my sharp edges. I started actively avoiding Savannah. Any script she showed interest in, I would politely decline, citing "scheduling conflicts." Maybe my silent submission finally paid off. Or maybe, since she and Tristan were finally getting married, she didn't want the bad karma of crushing me anymore. Whatever the reason, this year, they decided to be merciful and let a Best Actress trophy slip through their fingers and into my hands. When Chloe got the inside scoop that I was winning, she almost cried. She hugged me and said, "Victoria, the dark days are finally over." Tristan was finally willing to let me go. Even though the breakup wasn't my fault, I knew I could never win a war against Tristan Sterling. I had surrendered a long time ago. But less than five minutes after Chloe warned me to avoid Savannah, Savannah herself intentionally invited me to walk the red carpet alongside her. The billionaire heir's new fiancée and his notorious ex-girlfriend. Just standing next to each other was enough to break the internet with trending hashtags. I knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted to humiliate me from every possible angle. Not just because she was Tristan's new love, but because tonight, we were wearing gowns from the exact same luxury fashion house. The difference was, she was wearing their unreleased, custom haute couture. I was wearing a piece from last year's ready-to-wear collection. I could already picture the Twitter threads. Her fans and my haters would tear me apart, mocking me for looking cheap and outdated. But I didn't care. I never had any intention of competing with her over clothes. And I certainly had no delusions about Tristan ever coming back to me. If she wanted to be the stunning red rose, I was perfectly fine playing the plain green leaf in the background. But my submission didn't seem to satisfy Savannah. She leaned in, keeping her voice low. "Victoria, do you know Tristan is coming tonight?" I didn't. From the day we broke up, Tristan and I had cut ties completely. But just hearing his name made my heart skip a painful, erratic beat. Savannah noticed. She let out a mocking little laugh. "Don't get any ideas. He's only here for me. It has absolutely nothing to do with you." "I know." Even though the Sterling family practically owned the industry, before tonight, Tristan had never attended a single Hollywood award show. Even when we were insanely in love, he had never once shown up to support me. Savannah leaned in closer. "Tristan and I are getting married soon." I nodded, turned to her, and offered a genuine, polite smile. "Congratulations. I wish you both the best." My reaction was probably too soft, too boring. It completely killed Savannah's desire to keep taunting me. Or maybe she was just in a hurry to find Tristan. The second we finished walking the carpet, she ditched me and vanished into the venue. I stayed behind, posing for the photographers and answering a few standard questions. The reporters were surprisingly disciplined. Not a single one mentioned Tristan. Our relationship had been a massive, passionate spectacle, but the ending was incredibly ugly. Tristan, the other half of the relationship, only found out he had been dumped when he saw it trending on Twitter. During a red carpet interview back then, a reporter had casually asked about how things were going with Tristan. I looked straight into the camera and calmly said four words: "We broke up." There was no warning. No explanation. Tristan called me once after that. He didn't explain himself. He didn't apologize. He didn't even ask why. He just asked one question to confirm: "Are you sure about this?" I softly replied, "Yes." He was silent for one second, and then he hung up. I had fully expected him to be furious. He had been treated like a god since the day he was born. No one ever defied him. And yet, I dumped him, and he wasn't even the first person to know. #TristanSterlingDumped trended at number one on Twitter for three straight days. Tristan never ordered his PR team to take it down. My agency, terrified of offending the Sterling family, paid a fortune to have the hashtag removed. But less than a minute after it was scrubbed, it was forced right back to the top of the trending list. That wasn't Tristan being humiliated. That was Tristan sending me a warning. Sure enough, from that day forward, my career hit a massive, invisible brick wall. Until six years passed. Until Tristan's anger finally faded. Until he and Savannah were about to tie the knot. The memories rushed back so vividly, making me feel slightly dizzy. The host called my name twice before I finally snapped back to reality. Everyone around me was cheering. Amidst the thunderous applause, I glanced down at the front row. Savannah was sitting there. The seat next to her was empty. There was no name tag on it, but everyone in the room knew it belonged to Tristan. He still wasn't here. Good, I thought. It saves us both the awkwardness. But when I stepped up to the microphone to give my acceptance speech, I looked out at the audience, and there he was. Tristan was sitting perfectly straight in the front row. I hadn't seen him in years. His aura had grown even colder, even more intimidating. The moment our eyes met, he looked at me like I was a complete stranger. There was absolutely zero emotion in his gaze. I steadied my nerves and delivered my speech smoothly and confidently. But right as I reached the middle of my speech, a massive commotion broke out in the audience. To call it whispering would be an understatement. People were trying to be discreet, but the gossip was so explosive that their voices instinctively rose in volume. A troll account had just leaked a video of me heavily pregnant. It was from six years ago, right after Tristan and I broke up. I had intended to throw myself into my work to numb the pain, but right before filming was supposed to start, I found out I was pregnant. I dropped out of the project and completely vanished from the public eye for an entire year. The video was security footage from the apartment complex I lived in at the time. I couldn't remember what I was going outside for that day. But because I wasn't wearing a mask, my face was captured perfectly on camera. As I practically sprinted off the stage with my Oscar, Chloe and my assistant rushed forward, trying to shield me and get me out of the venue. But it was too late. The press had already swarmed us. Cameras and microphones were shoved aggressively into my face, everyone screaming the exact same question: "Ms. Vance, who is the father of the child?!" I was completely trapped by the mob, unable to move a single inch. Not far away, Tristan sat in his chair. No reporter dared to get within ten feet of him. If Tristan and I were still dating, the press would have treated me with a lot more respect. I looked over at him. His face was a mask of absolute shock, and his fingers, resting on the armrests, were gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles were white. He knew exactly who the father of the child was. Which was why the man famous for his unshakable composure was losing his mind in public for the first time in his life. I didn't answer the reporters' question directly. Instead, I smiled and offered a simple denial. "I don't have a child." There has probably never been an Oscar winner who fled the ceremony looking as pathetic as I did. The hem of my gown was trampled and muddy, and I had lost an earring in the chaos. A horde of reporters chased me all the way to the parking garage. It didn't look like I had just won Best Actress; it looked like I was fleeing a warzone. Chloe and my assistant were terrified. It took them a few minutes in the safety of the SUV before they could finally speak. "Victoria, what the hell is going on? You have a kid? Is it Tristan's? Where is the child now?" It was a lot of questions. I offered a bitter smile, not knowing which one to answer first. Chloe and my assistant hadn't been with me from the beginning. Everything they knew about my relationship with Tristan came from internet gossip or industry rumors. When I vanished for a year, everyone assumed Tristan had blacklisted me. When I finally returned to Hollywood... The narrative shifted. People assumed I had been so heartbroken over the breakup that I took a year off to travel and heal. No one in the industry knew what actually happened during that year. Including Chloe and my assistant. Until they saw that video tonight. Just like everyone else, they assumed I had gone away to secretly give birth. One year. The timeline matched up perfectly. Chloe actually looked a little excited. "If Tristan comes looking for you because of the kid, you need to use this opportunity to get back together with him! He'll guarantee you win every award in town for the rest of your life!" I shook my head. Chloe froze, then practically jumped out of her seat, almost hitting her head on the roof of the SUV. "Are you insane?! Are you trying to piss him off again?!" How could I possibly dare to do that? I shook my head to clarify. "There is no child." I was pregnant once, yes. But I didn't keep it. Chloe looked skeptical. The one-year gap was just too perfectly suspicious. She was about to press me further, but my assistant handed her an iPad. "Chloe, look at this." "Did the negative hashtags explode? Those vulture journalists!" Chloe snatched the iPad, but after glancing at the screen, her expression turned bizarre. "What... what's going on here?" There wasn't a single negative trending topic about me. There wasn't even a single unflattering photo of me fleeing the venue. Even though I had looked like an absolute disaster running out of that auditorium. This was Tristan's doing. It was incredibly easy for him to destroy someone. It was just as easy for him to protect someone. Chloe rubbed her temples, overwhelmed. "Did you really not keep the baby? Then how are you going to explain this to Tristan?" Why did I have to explain anything to him? He didn't love me. And he was about to marry Savannah. I knew Tristan would come looking for me. The video dropped like a bomb, and it involved a potential child. He was going to demand answers. I just didn't expect him to show up this fast. When my SUV pulled up to my apartment building, he was already waiting outside. Standing in the darkness, his tall, imposing silhouette looked exactly the same as it did six years ago. The only difference was, six years ago, when Tristan saw me, he would open his arms and wait for me to run into them. Now, he just stood there, radiating a coldness that made it impossible to approach him. Chloe was nervous. As I got out of the car, she grabbed my arm. I turned back and smiled at her. "It's fine. If he wanted to murder me or burn my house down, he wouldn't do it himself." "Fair point." Chloe sighed, then urged me to have a calm conversation with him. "You survived the hardest years, Victoria. The future is bright. Please, don't make your life any harder than it has to be!" I smiled and nodded. I waited until their SUV drove away before I started walking toward Tristan. My pace was calm, like I was walking up to an old friend. But I was the only one who knew that in the final two steps before reaching him, my heart rate spiked uncontrollably. I had loved him so deeply once. Because I loved him so much, when the earthquake hit, and he abandoned me without a second thought to save Savannah, I almost lost the will to live. Tristan knew exactly why I dumped him. But after the fact, he never offered a single word of explanation. Instead, because my public breakup humiliated him, he allowed the entire industry to mock and ostracize me for years. What could I do? He had the power and the money. Even today, knowing exactly who was at fault, I was still the one who had to speak first. "Mr. Sterling." Tristan frowned, his voice low. "I'm still used to you calling me by my name." I had called his name so many times in the past. [Tristan, we just wrapped filming! I'm coming to find you for dinner!] [Tristan, you've been on a business trip for a week. When are you coming back?] [Tristan, I miss you so much.] Six years had passed, yet the memory of exactly how I used to whine and confess my love to him was still crystal clear in my mind. A wave of inappropriate nostalgia washed over me, and I smiled, shaking my head. "Savannah told me you two are getting married soon. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to call you by your first name anymore. Congratulations, by the way." "Do you honestly think I can still get married now?" Tristan replied. Even if Savannah was still willing to marry him and immediately become a stepmother... The Hayes family was extremely conscious of their public image. They definitely wouldn't allow it now. I had ruined his life again. "I'm sorry," I apologized quickly. "Where is the child?" Tristan finally got to the point of his visit. The child that had suddenly been exposed to the world, but that no one had ever seen. He sounded frustrated, his tone much darker than before. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant back then?" Because I didn't know at first. By the time I found out, we had already broken up. "I didn't want the baby to ruin things between you and Savannah." Tristan let out a harsh, cold laugh. "You hid it for six years, and it got leaked anyway. Did it ruin things any less?" "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say besides those two words. When Tristan and I first started dating, someone warned me that Tristan liked his women obedient. But I couldn't fake being submissive. I was young, and I thought one passionate romance would last a lifetime. Who could fake a personality for a lifetime? So, around Tristan, I was stubborn. I threw tantrums. He wasn't great at comforting me, but he never held it against me, either. Usually, once I got the anger out of my system, I was fine. Back then, I was vibrant and passionate. I wasn't the smooth, enduring, hollowed-out version of myself he was looking at now. He asked me again, "Where is the child?" "There is no child." From the moment I saw the positive test, I never intended to keep it. A man who didn't love me wouldn't love a child I gave birth to. And I never had any desire to be a single mother. So, I had an abortion. A violent spark exploded in Tristan's eyes, tearing through his usual dark, composed facade, finally letting me see the chaotic emotions raging underneath. He actually cared about the unborn child. That genuinely shocked me. Did he care because it was his flesh and blood? Or was it because, once upon a time, he had actually, genuinely loved me, even just a little bit? Tristan was angry. Even though we had been separated for six years, his habit of closing his eyes when he was furious hadn't changed. I looked at him, feeling completely lost. I didn't understand why he was angry. If anyone had the right to be angry, it was me. Right before we broke up, Tristan and I had both managed to squeeze five days out of our schedules for a romantic vacation in Mexico. But because he had casually mentioned our itinerary to Savannah, she showed up at our resort the very next day. I was obviously unhappy about it. But Savannah claimed their families were practically related, that she and Tristan had grown up together, and that they were like brother and sister. And since Tristan didn't tell her to leave, I had no choice but to tolerate it. Who could have predicted that a massive earthquake would hit the resort the next day? I still remember it clearly. As we were trying to evacuate the hotel, I fell down a flight of concrete stairs. My thigh was severely bruised, and my ankle was badly sprained. Worst of all, I hit my head on the way down, and my vision blurred. Tristan initially tried to pick me up to carry me out, but then he heard Savannah screaming— "Tristan! Tristan, please, come save me!" "Tristan, where are you?! Help me!" Tristan looked at me for one second, then turned and ran toward Savannah's voice. He left me right where I fell. He didn't care if I could make it out on my own, and he didn't seem to care if I died in that stairwell. Even later, when I publicly announced our breakup without telling him first, he never once offered a single word of explanation for why he did what he did. But tonight, Tristan asked me, "Do you want to hear an explanation?" I froze. That earthquake had become my worst nightmare. Every time I thought about it, my chest would physically tighten, and I would struggle to breathe. Two years ago, I starred in a movie that featured a massive earthquake scene. The director praised my performance to the heavens, saying he had never seen anyone act out the sheer, visceral terror of an earthquake so perfectly. I wasn't acting. I was genuinely terrified. It took me a very long time to shake that feeling after filming wrapped. That night, I had nightmares about the past. I dreamed about being abandoned by Tristan all over again. I woke up drenched in layers of cold sweat. My mind was completely conscious, but my body was paralyzed; I physically couldn't get out of bed. The next morning, when my assistant noticed I still wasn't up, she forced her way into my room and found me burning up with a massive fever. She rushed me to the ER. Whether it was before I publicly dumped him or after, I never once asked Tristan for an explanation. Because I believed actions spoke infinitely louder than words. In a life-or-death situation, the person he wanted to save was Savannah. So, no matter how many times he said he loved me, those words were meaningless. But I also wanted to be free from the nightmares. Since he brought it up, I decided to listen. Tristan told me that the Hayes family originally had two children. Savannah had an older brother. He and Tristan had been best friends since childhood. When they were thirteen, the two boys snuck out to hang out in the city. But someone with a grudge against the Sterling family saw an opportunity. They tried to kidnap Tristan.
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