Vincent, Kate's first love, had left the country years ago, and they lost touch.

But now, Vincent was back.

The phone rang sharply, and I saw it was Logan calling.

I rubbed my temples and answered.

"Clark, something's gone wrong. Check the trending topics!" Logan's voice was fraught with urgency.

I quickly opened the trending section, and the top headline read: [Superstar Kate Spotted with Former Lover.]

The accompanying photo confirmed it.

Vincent was blurred out, but Kate's drunken face was crystal clear.

A sharp pang of discomfort hit me.

"What do we do, Clark?" Logan's voice was almost frantic.

"Put Kate on the line."

I had planned what to say, but when I heard Kate's voice, my confidence wavered.

"What's your plan?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral, hoping to defuse the tension between us.

There was a pause on the other end.

"We can't let Vincent be exposed. He's just back at the Moore Group and hasn't established himself yet."

I struggled to keep my voice steady, my heart racing. "So, you want to take the blame for everything yourself?"

Kate's response was barely a whisper. "Yes."

My mind went blank, and my lips trembled with anger.

I shouted, "Is Vincent really that important to you?

"Important enough to throw away ten years of hard work?

"Or is our future just meaningless to you?"

Kate seemed taken aback by my outburst, her voice trembling as she responded, "Clark, you're yelling at me!"

Realizing I'd lost my composure, I tried to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to..."

But she had already hung up.

I was left seething with frustration. In ten years, had I ever spoken to her like that before? Nope.

A memory surfaced—an online post I had seen while trying to clean up some negative press.

It was about Kate and Vincent's ten-year promise.

The post claimed that Vincent and Kate were childhood sweethearts who had been forced apart—one going abroad, the other pursuing a career in entertainment. They had set a ten-year deadline to meet again at the top of their respective fields.

I felt a knot in my chest.

I thought, "If that's the case, where do I fit into this? Have all my efforts over the past decade been just to set her up with Vincent?"

I recalled the early days—when Kate, struggling, danced in a sweltering studio while I sat on the floor, making calls to find her work.

We had shared a bottle of water and an ice cream.

At the end, she had shyly said, "Clark, you're so great. Let's be together. I'll make sure to win all the awards for you and prove you're the best manager. We'll announce it then."

But as her career soared, she became increasingly entangled in complexities, and the rifts between us grew wider.

I finally realized that I could no longer keep up with her.

The buzz from the trending topic only grew louder, with more and more rumors spreading.

Logan was running around like a headless chicken, missing Clark's steady presence by his side.

Back then, with Clark around, they could weather any storm or online backlash together.

Several businesses had already issued their final ultimatums—either she cleared things up immediately or faced a breach of contract lawsuit.

Kate, with her makeup stripped away and her hair tied back into a simple ponytail, looked exhausted.

The stress was clearly taking a toll on her.

When the phone rang, she answered swiftly.

"Director Dent, it's a misunderstanding. Please, give me another chance. I'm begging you... Alright, thank you."

With a heavy heart, Kate hung up. Leo Dent had turned her down for the film.

She was so close—just one step away from a grand slam—and she couldn't accept the setback.

Kate glanced back at the photo, where the man's face was too blurred to identify, but oddly enough, it resembled Clark a little.

A bizarre thought suddenly took shape in her mind.

Kate hadn't invited me out for ages.

So when I received her invitation, I was genuinely pleased.

The restaurant was a members-only establishment. I brought the bottle of wine she loved, the one we had stored together long ago.

I had kept a bottle from her birth year, and she had one from mine. I had a sense that if we didn't use it now, we'd never have the chance to share it again.

But as soon as I entered the private room, I froze.

Kate was seated next to Vincent.

She greeted me warmly and pulled me to sit down, but I couldn't muster a smile.

Vincent, ever the polite host, poured me a drink, but I felt like I might be sick.

Kate exchanged a look with Vincent, their shared smile making me feel like an outsider, as if I should be hiding under the table.

Then, just like in old times, she used her sweet voice to coax me.

Kate said, her tone sugary and smooth, "We talked it over. The person in the photo looks a lot like you. How about we clarify that it's actually you?"

She spoke softly and sweetly, but all I heard was "we."

I thought, "Kate, there was a time when 'we' meant you and me.

I want to ask her, you're so afraid Vincent won't make it at the Moore Group, but do you worry about your loyal fans turning on me?"

I suddenly found myself smiling.

I saw the shock on her face, and a hidden satisfaction rose in me, though it was overshadowed by a deep, painful sting.

I forced myself to remain calm. "Sure, but I have one condition. I'm resigning."

I watched Kate's face go blank for a moment before she snapped, "No! I won't agree!"

Her sudden anger made me feel, for a brief second, like she still cared about me.

But the hand Vincent had resting on her shoulder brought me back to reality.

I stood up, looking at Kate steadily. "Ms. Winslet, I wish you all the best in your future career."

I turned and walked out, my chest and stomach twisting in pain, making it hard to breathe.

I thought, "Is it really this painful to let go of ten years of your life?"

As I walked out the door, Kate abruptly stood up but was quickly restrained by Vincent.

"What are you doing?" Kate snapped, shaking off Vincent's hand.

Vincent smirked, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "Are you so impatient that you're willing to risk losing Director Dent's movie?"

Kate hesitated, standing up and then sitting back down, nervously tapping her foot.

Vincent chuckled, toying with Kate's hair. "That's more like it. He's just an agent, after all."

Meanwhile, I stood at the restaurant entrance, clutching the bottle of wine, and waited for half an hour. No one came out to pursue me.

In the end, I felt pathetic even to myself.

With a self-deprecating laugh, I tossed the bottle of wine from her birth year into the trash can.