Love and Betrayal in the Showbiz

I had been in a secret marriage with him for six years, only to find out that my husband Brad Forester had developed feelings for someone else on set.

When I fell during filming and faced the risk of a miscarriage, I desperately needed him to stand by me.

I called him, tears streaming down my face as I poured my heart out.

He didn't even bother to listen to the end. His voice was cold as he said, "Stop overreacting. She's crying so much, and I need to be there for her."

1

I had given everything I had for him, yet his fans insulted me daily with the most vicious words on every platform imaginable.

He responded to the rumors with a post.

"I am the father of the child."

So, after six years of marriage, your only identity was that of a father?

Was I so unworthy of being acknowledged?

I didn't need his pity! Nor did I need his!

On my birthday, instead of celebrating, I chose to undergo surgery.

The nurse, seeing me lying alone on the cold hospital bed, asked, "Isn't there anyone here with you?"

I lied on the surgery table and said nothing.

"Look, it's Brad Forester and Luna Cox! They're really a perfect match!"

"They were each other's first love, which is often considered the most romantic. Maybe they'll get back together soon."

"Just look at how close they are! They've probably already reconciled. They should just get married!"

"Agreed!"

Hearing the nurses chattering excitedly outside the door, I turned my face away, unwilling to listen any longer.

Brad...

It had been so, so long since we last spoke.

A stabbing pain pierced my heart, and I let out a faint gasp.

The doctor, looking at my test results, said, "This isn't a minor issue. Even though you've been granted special permission to proceed, as your doctor, I still suggest having a family member accompany you. The records show you're married, you should call your husband."

My husband?

He was probably with the woman he loved most, Luna, completely unconcerned about me.

I felt like this marriage was doomed.

The doctor, seeing that I didn't respond, still rolled me into the operating room.

The surgery lasted over five hours, and by the time it was done, the sky outside had turned dark.

Just then, my phone rang beside me.

For the first time in forever, Brad had called.

I answered, only to hear Luna's cheerful voice on the other end. "Happy birthday, Carrie! I've been working with Brad all day, and he was the one who reminded me it was your birthday. I wanted to get you a gift, but it's so late now, and all the stores are closed. I'll make it up to you next time with the best gift ever. Oh, and about the cake-Brad didn't even tell us it was your birthday cake. We ate most of it, but there's still half a slice left. Don't be mad, okay?"

She kept chattering away until Brad grabbed the phone from her.

"You are really an annoying chatterbox," he said.

"Hey! Don't push me around! Don't forget, we're not a couple anymore. You can't bully me like that!"

Brad let out a cold laugh, as if he wanted to say something to me.

But before he could, I heard someone in the background shout, "Come on, just get back together already!"

As soon as that voice faded, a chorus of cheers erupted.

"Be together! Be together!"

Hearing the commotion on the other end, I found my head throbbed, and my chest felt like it was being torn apart.

The phone slipped from my hand, along with the tears that streamed down my face.

After that, his calls came in nonstop, but I dealt with them by throwing my phone aside.

2

After resting at home for a week, I rushed back to the set to continue filming.

The show was a rural-themed variety program called "Pastoral Moments". As a regular cast member, I couldn't afford to miss a single episode-the penalty for breaching the contract was just too steep to afford.

Each episode featured popular celebrities or trending personalities as guest stars.

That day, the phone rang on set.

To add an air of mystery, the production team had altered the caller's voice.

"I'm here to find someone I care," the voice said. "It's been so long, and I've missed her terribly."

I couldn't tell who it was. Rumor had it that today's guests were a pair of celebrities embroiled in a recent scandal.

I didn't care who they were. It had nothing to do with me.

In entertainment industry, people used gossip to stay relevant all the time.

The show was wildly popular, featuring a mix of rising stars and seasoned actors.

The most respected among us was Roger Burton, a veteran actor with countless accolades to his name. Not only was he a top-tier performer, but he was also a renowned producer with extensive connections.

He was the heart of the show, always steering the conversations. Then there was Jed Dawson, a young star with striking looks and a sharp wit.

He was the one who kept the atmosphere lively, ensuring there were no awkward silences. And then there was me-Carrie Johnson, the most forgettable of the bunch. No fame, no following. I was just there to cook and do odd jobs.

Sometimes, I wondered if my cooking skills were the only reason they invited me.

I carried a bundle of firewood into the old house, ready to start the fire.

Just then, the courtyard door creaked open, and a pair of long legs stepped inside. I froze in shock.

It was Brad.

My heart couldn't help but race, pounding wildly in my chest.

He had said he was here to find someone.

He had told me before, more than once, that he hated participating in reality shows.

Unless... Unless there was something-or someone-worth protecting for a lifetime.

Could it be me?

But before I could dwell on the thought, another figure peeked through the door.

Luna, with her makeup meticulously applied to perfection, sashayed in, wearing an exhilarated smile that lit up her face.

"You got here before me. Next time, I will be the earlier one," she teased.

Brad ignored her and made a beeline for Roger, bowing slightly as he greeted him.

"Mr. Burton, I've admired you for a long time. It's an honor to finally meet you."

Then Luna bounced over, expressing her admiration in a bright voice. "It's such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Burton! When we heard you were filming here, Brad and I were too excited to sleep that night. So, we rushed over as soon as we could!"

Roger, always the epitome of composure, clasped their hands firmly and engaged in warm exchanges of greetings.

Luna turned to me and waved, her red lips curving into a faint smile.

Was it a taunt?

A declaration of ownership?

It didn't matter anymore.

I looked at Brad, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, and then at myself, wearing an apron and holding a bundle of firewood.

The distance between us felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

I couldn't help but laugh -at my own naivety and foolishness.

I remembered how, when we first got married, he had told me with utmost seriousness. "When we're outside, especially in front of the media, let's act like strangers."

"Why?" I had asked.

"Because it might have caused a bad influence on our careers. It's for the best," he had replied.

Thinking back to how my heart had raced just now, I realized what a clown I had been.

I had actually hoped he was here for me.

How ridiculous.

He could have come for anyone-but never for me.

3

They sat outside, chatting and laughing.

I was the only one who stayed inside, feeding the firewood into the stove for the preparation of meal.

As I added more wood, the smoke stung my eyes, and I quickly wiped them.

When I looked up, I saw Brad leaning casually against the doorframe, deep in conversation with Roger.

It had been so long since I last saw him. And at that moment, as I looked at him again, a sudden thought struck me-the idea of divorce suddenly stroke me.

I remembered how I had chased after him for five years before we got married.

In the early days of our marriage, I had framed our wedding photos and hung it by the bed. Every night, I would cling to his arm as I slept.

I was terrified of losing him, terrified that it was all just a dream that would vanish when I woke up.

Sometimes, I would dream of our wedding day and wake up smiling. Other times, I would dream of our divorce and wake up with my pillow soaked in tears.

Back then, the one thing I never anticipated was that I would be the one to ask for a divorce.

When I served the food, Luna picked at her plate, taking a bite of meat before wrinkling her nose.

"Ugh, it's so greasy," she said, dropping the half-eaten piece into Brad's plate.

Then she reached into his plate and took out the things she liked, leaving the rest for him as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Brad glanced at her briefly but said nothing.

Luna bit her fork and smiled.

Roger, watching them, remarked, "Your relationship doesn't seem fake at all as the rumors said. If anything, it looks so sweet, which is quite real to me."

Brad continued eating his meal with his head down, replying coldly, "It's fake."

Luna, hearing this, casually placed a hand on Brad's shoulder and said with a carefree tone, "We're just buddies now, so he won't dote on me like the couples of old days did during dating. Back then, the boy would even treat a girl like a little princess. If I were the one who was kept being pampered like that, I'd forget how to take care of myself completely."

Her words made everyone burst into laughter.

Roger couldn't help but ask, "So pampering you doesn't suit you-what kind of man are you looking for, then?"

Luna smiled faintly, then turned to look at Brad and said, "Hmm... not too tall, but tall enough. Handsome, loves wearing suits, and ideally, an Oscar-winning actor."

Brad chuckled softly at her response.

Everyone knew he loved wearing suits and had won a Best Actor award before.

Everyone laughed-except me.

Perhaps noticing my silence, Luna suddenly turned to me and said, "Carrie, I remember you're such a big fan of Brad. Your room is full of his photos, and even your phone wallpaper is of him."

I froze for a moment, then looked up to find Brad staring at me with a cold, unreadable expression.

Luna, as if enjoying the moment, held up her phone and showed it to everyone. "Carrie, look at this-my masterpiece! These are all photos I took on set. Aren't they amazing?"

She proudly displayed her phone wallpaper, a picture of her and Brad sharing a passionate kiss in a bathtub filled with flowers, both of them half-naked.

She finally brought the phone in front of me.

I forced a faint smile and said, "Sure it is."

"Right?" She replied smugly. "I have even better ones. I'll share them with you later."

"Thanks," I said flatly, then lowered my head and continued eating.

Brad glanced at me, his expression darkening as if he were particularly displeased.

After the meal, the director turned off the cameras and told us to take a break.

My wound was burning with pain, so I quickly retreated to my room to find some painkillers.

Just as I had poured myself a glass of hot water and was about to take the pills, Luna's agent barged in with an air of arrogance.

"You, up there-what are you doing? Go downstairs and cook another meal for Luna."

4

"Didn't she just claim that she was stuffed? She even went on about having a delicate appetite and eating just the right amount," I retorted, annoyed.

"Stop talking back and get to it. And remember, she prefers scallions, ginger, and garlic, but make sure to pick them out before serving," she snapped.

I was growing increasingly irritated.

"Sorry, I just can't. There's leftover food in the fridge-heat it up yourself."

Her face twisted with displeasure as she demanded, "Do you even know who I am? Do you know how popular Luna is right now? She's about to marry Brad, the Oscar-winning actor, and when that happens, do you know how many people will be begging to curry favor with me? And you-who do you think you are?"

She shoved me hard as she spoke, causing me to stumble against the wall.

Half the hot water in my cup spilled onto me, making the pain in my wound even worse.

Furious, I grabbed the remaining water and splashed it directly onto her face.

She covered her face, pointing at me and screaming, "How dare you!

Just wait-once Luna and Brad are married, you'll be completely ruined!"

The commotion upstairs quickly drew everyone's attention from downstairs.

Luna was the first to rush up, hurriedly dabbing her agent's face with a towel.

She looked at me with an innocent expression and said, "Carrie, did I do something to upset you? Can't you just talk this out instead of resorting to violence? There's no need to be this mean."

Brad followed closely behind, his cold gaze sweeping over the scene.

Once inside, he shut the door, blocking out the onlookers.

Ignoring him, I turned to Luna and snapped, "What's with the act?

You claim to have a small appetite, but the moment the cameras are off, your agent comes to ask me to cook for you. Can you just stop pretending? You can play your little games all you want, but don't treat me like your servant. Besides, I almost forgot-you're about to marry Brad, the Oscar-winning actor, so of course, you're feeling high and mighty. No wonder you're threatening to completely ruin my career. Is this what it means to be Mrs. Forester? It feels superb to dominate others, doesn't it?"

I had always avoided conflict with Luna.

No matter what happened, I brushed it off because I believed it wasn't worth fighting over a man.

She'd taken Brad from me-I let it go.

She flaunted her relationship in front of me, and I endured it.

After all, if I couldn't hold onto him, it was my own fault. Maybe he didn't love me anymore, and that was fine.

But when she came looking for trouble, pushing me to the edge, even a saint would lose patience.

Luna seemed stunned by my sudden outburst. For a moment, she was speechless.

Then, as if trying to salvage the situation, she put on an innocent face, grabbed my hand, and said, "Carrie, there must be some misunderstanding. We are cool, okay?"

As she spoke, she kept glancing back at Brad, her expression pitiful.

The faint scent of roses wafted from her, a fragrance so familiar it made me nauseous.

Brad loved this scent-luxurious and extremely rare. He had bought it for me twice before.

At the time, I thought it was a special gift, something unique to me.

I had treasured it, never daring to use it. Now, looking back, I realized how foolish I had been.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I couldn't help but push her away.

"Stay away from me. That scent on you-it's disgusting!"

Luna stumbled back, looking at me in shock before turning her tearful gaze to Brad.

Finally, Brad, who had been silent all this time, spoke up.

"That's enough. Apologize to Luna right now, Carrie."

5

His words made me so furious I nearly ground my teeth to dust.

I stepped forward, ready to confront him, but the sharp pain from my wound stopped me in my tracks.

Tears welled up in my eyes before I could say a word.

Brad looked at me with disdain.

"Seriously? Are you crying? Aren't you embarrassed?" He was speechless by my reaction.

He sighed in exasperation and stepped closer, reaching out to wipe my tears.

I slapped his hand away, unwilling to let him touch me.

"What's wrong with you? Can't you just talk?" he demanded, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

The pain in my wound flared up again.

But this time, I didn't cry. My anger overwhelmed my grievance.

I slapped him hard across the face.

The crisp sound of the slap stunned everyone, especially Luna and her manager.

They stared at me in shock, their expressions quickly morphing into amused smirks.

In their eyes, who would dare slap Brad, the Oscar-winning actor?

And on his face?

Surely, whoever did would face unimaginable consequences.

They looked at me with a playful expression on their faces, waiting to see what would happen to me.

The wound hurt even more as I exerted myself for the slap at that moment.

Ignoring their reactions, I fumbled for my painkillers, my hands trembling from the effort.

Brad frowned, snatching the bottle from my hand.

He questioned me. "Why are you taking these pills? Did someone hurt you? Or are you feeling unwell?"

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, leaned against the wall, and moved to the bed.

"I'll wait for you all to completely blacklist me. Now get the hell out."

I lay down, turning my back to him, unwilling to look at him.

He just wouldn't give up, "Carrie, what's wrong with you? Answer me, where does it hurt?"

I ignored him, closing my eyes.

He stormed over to the bed, grabbed my face, and forced me to look at his handsome face.

His eyes filled with anxiety and worry as he studied my pale complexion.

"Are you sick?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Leave me alone!" I snapped.

"Are you trying to kill yourself? You're sick, and you're still working? What the hell are you thinking?"

"Fuck off!" I shouted again, my patience wearing thin.

Years of neglect had numbed me to his presence.

His avoidance had turned into disdain, I felt the same disdain for him.

He glared at me, his frustration evident. "Get up and come home with me. Now. This is your last warning, Carrie. Either you get up and come home with me willingly, or I'll carry you out myself."

I kept my eyes shut, refusing to respond.

Knowing him, he wouldn't dare make a scene in front of so many people and cameras around. Would he?