So, he knew all along. I had thought Kevin was fooled by Wendy, but I didn't expect that he knew everything. He knew she was faking allergies and even played along with her act.

I had been the only clown in this three-person game, with my hundreds of hysterical outbursts over the past two years becoming their shared inside joke.

The moment the door closed, I collapsed to the floor as if all my strength had drained away.

"Kevin, can you bring me my underwear?" Wendy called out from her room. "Oh no, not that one! The red lace one, you said it looked the best."

From behind the thin door, I could hear Kevin's hearty laughter mingled with Wendy's coquettish, playful voice. I felt nothing but utter disgust.

Gazing at the foreign moon outside the window, I hugged myself tightly and cried silently.

The first time I met Wendy was two years ago. Kevin pointed at the modestly dressed girl behind him, saying that she was his cousin, lost for twenty years. Since then, he'd fulfilled her every request with care and attention.

But only I knew that Wendy was a fake, someone Kevin hired to act as his cousin to compete with his uncle, Kenneth, for the inheritance.

Over recent years, Grandpa Richard's health had deteriorated, but he insisted on leaving his entire fortune to whoever could bring back the missing cousin.

Kevin came up with this reckless plan and needed me to act along, pleading for my cooperation. He promised that once he secured the inheritance, he'd send her away. But neither of us anticipated that Grandpa wouldn't pass away, instead, his health even slightly improved.

I'd suggested ending this ridiculous charade multiple times, but Kevin adamantly refused, telling me to wait. That wait stretched into two years.

I watched as Kevin went from feigned affection to genuine care and eventually to a heart entirely fixated on Wendy. The cousin was fake, but his feelings for her were real.

That night, I called my agent, Gary Andrews, "Get me some runway gigs. I'm getting a divorce."

For the past two years, I'd put my modeling career on hold to prepare for pregnancy and to stand by Kevin's designs. But now, I needed to live for myself.

On the other end, Gary cheered, exclaiming that I had finally seen the light and happily said, "I'll get everything arranged so neatly that Kevin won't be able to find a trace of you. But …will Kevin agree to the divorce?"

I paused for a few seconds, looking at the wound on my arm and made up my mind, "I'll find a way."

That night, I had an exceptionally long dream, filled with all the happy memories between me and Kevin. In the next instant, I was surrounded by flames, everything reduced to ashes.

The next day, Wendy's laughter woke me up and the sticky feeling all over my body told me I had a fever. I scheduled a doctor's appointment on my phone and got ready to leave.

When I opened the door, I saw the two of them at the dining table, endlessly teasing each other. The table was a mess, with food scattered everywhere.

I glanced indifferently at Kevin and went straight to the fridge to grab ingredients for a salad. Throughout, I noticed Kevin's gaze lingering on me, while Wendy pouted and stomped her feet in mock anger.

After rolling my eyes a few times, I quickly finished my salad at the kitchen counter.

Just as I was about to leave, Kevin couldn't hold back any longer and spoke, "Amy, are you going out?"

I adjusted my clothes in the mirror without responding, then turned and walked out.

Kevin suddenly rushed in front of me, blocking the door and glaring at me while said, "Don't you know what day it is today? At this hour, you're still planning to go out?"

Of course, I knew, it was the day of Kevin's 2024 Fall-Winter fashion show. I was supposed to be the mystery guest, closing the show in a unique wedding gown.

I replied, "I made an appointment with a doctor to get my wound treated. It got infected and I had a fever last night."

Kevin looked momentarily taken aback, his emotions hard to read.

"Kevin, let Amy go. She's always been delicate, not as strong as me," Wendy chimed in, pressing herself against him in a coy, needy way.

Just as I was leaving the hospital with my wound newly dressed, Kevin's call came through, "It's been two hours. Even if you were bandaged head to toe, you should be done by now, right? Amy, do you really think I can't do this show without you?"

I sneered internally. Kevin, there won't be a show with me, but I'll definitely leave you a grand farewell gift.

"Don't worry, I'll make it back," I replied, hanging up before he could respond.

Ignoring his subsequent calls, I eventually turned off my phone. Arriving at a familiar studio, I knocked on the door.

This was where Kevin and I had started out, a studio he had built with his roommate, Freddie Jones. Over time, while Kevin and I ascended the social ladder and became consumed by fame and fortune, this studio remained simple and unchanged.

The bell chimed pleasantly as I opened the door and Freddie, though initially shocked, greeted me with a smile.

After some catching up, I got straight to the point, "You've heard about Kevin's fashion show, right? All of his designs for the show are based on drafts you originally created. I need those original drafts as evidence of his plagiarism."

Freddie's hand paused mid-pour, spilling tea on the table, "You two are …"

"I'm planning to get a divorce." I cut his words.

After leaving Freddie's studio and getting into a cab, I looked down at the brown-paper-wrapped chocolate in my hand.

Tears welled up as I tore open the packaging, recalling Freddie's words as he handed me the sketches, "Amy, if you're certain about leaving, then don't look back."

I wiped away my tears, took photos of all the sketches and sent them in an email to a journalist I knew in Paris.

Then I hurried to the Paris DNA testing center, where I obtained the fake paternity test results Kevin had used back then. Since my passport had been used for the records, it was easy to retrieve all the evidence I needed.

With everything secured, I took a cab to the venue. By the time I arrived, Kevin's patience had clearly worn thin.

"She's here!" someone in the crowd called out and all eyes turned toward me.

Kevin visibly relaxed, though his face still held traces of anger. He grabbed the design drafts on the table and threw them in my direction.

"Amy, you're impressive! Making everyone wait for you! Hurry and get changed!" The entire venue echoed with his angry shouts and the staff, visibly uneasy, ushered me backstage.

In the dressing room, my eyes immediately landed on the wedding gown at the center of the room.

This gown, inspired by me, was Freddie's design, with tens of thousands of pearl-white gems delicately adorning the hem.

Three years ago, when Kevin said he would give me this wedding dress, I was stunned and urged him not to plagiarize. But he didn't listen, even naming the dress 'Moonlight Garden.'

Back then, he wanted nothing more than to declare his love for me to the world. Over time, even I began looking forward to wearing it. But something that came into being dishonestly wasn't meant for me in the end.

As I traced the gown's intricate embroidery, a mixture of bitterness and sorrow filled me. My gaze lingered on the cuffs. "Who altered this dress?" I asked.

Everyone looked at each other and then Wendy stepped forward and said, "It was me. Kevin told me to try it on, just in case you didn't show up." She smiled, pride and satisfaction evident in her voice. "He even adjusted the waistline for me himself."

Kevin entered just then, pushing me to the ground. My elbow hit the floor and fresh blood began to seep through my bandages.

He stood over me, his eyes cold and distant while he said, "Amy, are you really going to keep nitpicking and causing trouble for me? If you don't change, I'll get another model!"

Kevin loved to threaten me, knowing I'd usually back down. But this time, he didn't know, I no longer cared.

Enduring the pain, I got up and looked at Wendy, who was eagerly anticipating her moment. I let out a small, defiant laugh, "Fine. Go ahead and change the model. Your fake cousin must be dying to wear this dress to marry you." The hall fell silent, everyone inhaled sharply.

"Is Wendy not Kevin's cousin?"

"Is that true?"

"She's not his real cousin?"

Just then, the door swung open again and the head of the exhibit hurried inside and said, "Mr. Beacon, something's wrong. There's a large group of reporters outside …"

"What's going on? The interview isn't until 4 PM." Kevin's composure faltered as he noticed everyone's concerned faces, but he had no choice but to go out and manage the situation.

With the show starting soon, he couldn't risk any slip-ups. The show was scheduled for 6.30 PM, but it was only 3 PM, meaning the press was an hour early.

The exhibit manager wiped the sweat from his brow. "The reporters outside aren't the ones we arranged. They're here … about the plagiarism allegations." The hall buzzed with tension.

Kevin hurried outside to deal with the press and as the crowd grew chaotic, I took the chance to slip out the back.

By the time I reached the airport and settled into the waiting lounge, I checked the news about Kevin. There he was, frantically trying to explain himself in front of the cameras.

His eyes darted around, as if searching for someone. I knew he was looking for me, because only I could clear his name. But he'd never suspect that I was the one who had orchestrated this.

"If you're not guilty of plagiarism, why isn't your wife standing by your side?" One simple question hit right at the heart of the matter.

Kevin's show was canceled and within minutes, the headlines about his downfall dominated national and international news sites.

After the interview ended and the show was abandoned, my phone began to light up with calls from him. I sat in the airport lounge, watching my phone screen flash on and off.

Five minutes before boarding, I finally picked up.

"Where are you?" Unexpectedly, there was no shouting, no anger, just a quiet question.