When Marianne showed up at Kennedy's set, it hit her just how bad things really were.

The place was packed—people everywhere, gawking at the chaos like it was the hottest show in town.

The second Alissa saw her, she rushed over and practically dragged her inside.

The moment Marianne met Kennedy's eyes, he looked away first.

"Kennedy, I brought her here! You always listen to her, right? She'll talk some sense into you!" Alissa shoved Marianne forward.

But Kennedy didn't even glance at Marianne. "You shouldn't have come. Don't bother with me."

And then an annoying, child-like voice rang out again.

"Uncle Ken, please come down! Don't risk your life for me!"

Marianne whipped around and stared at Suzanne. 'Risk his life? For her?'

"Oh, so that's Suzanne?" someone whispered nearby. "I heard Kennedy's risking his life just to keep her role."

"Well, the new sponsor's calling the shots now. What can you do? You can't fight the money."

Listening to the discussions around her, Marianne finally pieced everything together.

Apparently, the original investor for Kennedy and Suzanne's film had pulled out. The new sponsor stepped in with one condition: Suzanne could stay in the cast, but only if Kennedy performed a rooftop jump—no harness, no safety net.

So, he was willing to gamble his life… for her career.

And Marianne? Why the hell was she even here?

Alissa's tone softened. "Marianne, I know this is unfair, but come on, it's a life we're talking about here. And he's still your—"

"He's not my anything. We're strangers."

Marianne shook Alissa off, wrapped her coat tighter around herself, and turned to leave.

Just then, Kennedy suddenly leaped off the rooftop.

"Is he okay? Hurry up! Check him!"

"Mr. Bryden!"

"Call an ambulance!"

The crowd lost it. The set was a mess.

Marianne tried to push through, but the panic made it impossible to move. Her breathing got harder and harder.

"Excuse me! Please, let me through—"

But the noisy crowd quickly drowned out her voice. She was shoved and jostled, and the pain in her body was unbearable.

And then she felt it—a warm gush running down her legs.

Could it be…

"Move! Let me through!"

She stumbled through the sea of people, heading toward a car, but the second she got close, a wall of reporters swarmed her.

Flashes blinded her as microphones were shoved in her face.

"Miss Marlowe, is it true your boyfriend jumped off a building for another woman?"

"Miss Marlowe, how do you put up with this? Can you share your experience?"

Seeing that she was alone, the reporter asked more and more harsh questions.

Marianne felt dizzy. "Please make way. It hurts..."

Bur reporter still asked relentlessly.

"Miss Marlowe, are you a doormat in this relationship? Did you just stand by while they were together?"

"Miss Marlowe, who's the real girlfriend here? Are you the side chick? Honestly, you seem like the side chick."

"Miss Marlowe—"

"Enough! Back off!" Out of nowhere, a team of massive security guards pushed through and surrounded her, forming a human shield.

Then, a strong arm pulled her into a protective hold, a black trench coat blocking out the cameras.

"Don't be scared, Marianne. Come with me."

Even though they got her to the hospital in time, it didn't matter. The baby was gone.

Dr. Obrien slammed her fist against the wall in grief.

She'd saved so many patients over the years, but this… this felt personal.

For 10 years, Marianne had fought so hard for her baby.

The therapy and the awful medicine—she went through it all every day with unwavering hope…

The needle pierced her skin, and tears streamed down Marianne's face, but she didn't make a sound.

"You silly girl, if it hurts, just cry," Dr. Obrien said softly, her voice tinged with worry.

Marianne even managed to smile. "It's fine. It doesn't hurt. As long as I can have the baby, I'll endure anything."

But that wasn't true; Marianne was terrified—terrified of everything.

She was afraid that Kennedy's promises wouldn't hold. Afraid she wouldn't be able to get pregnant. Afraid she'd never return to the career she loved. Afraid Suzanne would keep haunting her like a shadow.

But no one protected her.

When she said she wanted to end the pregnancy, Dr. Obrien almost lost her mind. She texted Kennedy over and over, begging him to take care of Marianne and to treat her better. She told him how much Marianne had been through to get pregnant.

But there was not a single reply from Kennedy.

And then, the baby was gone.

Marianne lay curled up in bed, trembling like a wet, abandoned puppy. She burned with fever, mumbling, "Baby… my baby…"

"Mr. Cohen, you haven't eaten all day. Should I bring you…?"

Gene Cohen raised a hand, silencing his assistant. The man quickly left, leaving him alone in the hospital room.

Huo sat beside Marianne, gently brushing her face.

"Anne, it's my fault," he whispered. "I was too late."

"Why did you lie to me? You said you were doing fine."

"Anne, I missed you so much. Do you even know?"

Across town, Kennedy wasn't doing much better. He'd broken his leg on set, and if someone hadn't shoved a cushion under him at the last second, it could've been worse.

"Uncle Ken, you're finally awake!"

Suzanne clung to his hand, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

Kennedy slowly pulled his hand away and glanced around the room.

There was Suzanne, his manager, reporters, doctors— even some nosy patients poking their heads in.

But Marianne wasn't there.

"I fell so hard. Who's come to see me?" he asked.

"Everyone's here, Uncle Ken! We've all been waiting for you. Who are you looking for?"

"No one," he said, closing his eyes to hide his disappointment.

Marianne used to care so much. If he got a scrape on set, she'd freak out, crying as she cleaned the wound.

"Kennedy, stop doing these dangerous stunts, okay?" she'd beg.

And he'd laugh, ruffling her hair. "If I don't work, who's going to support you? Who's going to support our baby?"

Those moments felt so close, yet now they were gone in the blink of an eye.

His leg was broken, and where was she? Why didn't she come to check on him?

Kennedy pressed his lips together, his gaze falling to his bare wrist. He remembered how Marianne had saved up for months to buy him a rugged survival bracelet, insisting it would keep him safe.

When he'd jumped from that building during the stunt, the bracelet snapped and was gone just like everything else.

Suzanne leaned closer, breaking his thoughts. "Uncle Ken, stop worrying! I've got good news. Our sponsor agreed to let me keep acting!"

Kennedy barely reacted. "Mm."

"And guess what?" she continued eagerly. "They even gave the show more money and made me the lead! Though… I did see Aunt Marianne getting into his car the other day. I wonder if…"

The second she mentioned Marianne's name, Kennedy's face darkened. His fists clenched so tightly that veins popped, his eyes turning bloodshot.

Suzanne froze, her voice trailing off.

Kennedy didn't need to say what was in his head. Everyone in the room could already guess.

'So Marianne got into a car with her sugar daddy. Was she going to keep him company?'

'Is that why she broke up with me?'

'No. No way. She can't break up with me!'

When Marianne woke up, she realized she was resting against someone's chest—warm, strong, familiar.

'Kennedy?'

Her first instinct was to push away, and the movement startled the man awake.

"Anne? Anne, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"

Gene leaned his forehead against hers as he brushed her cheek with his hand.

"You're…" Her voice trailed off, her fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin, and for a second, she couldn't even process what was happening.

"Anne," he said gently, pulling her closer. "Say my name."

She thought for a moment, then met his smiling eyes. "G-Gene?"

"That's right! As long as you still remember me, it's enough." He hugged her tighter. "What happened, Anne? Why didn't you come to me when things got hard?"

He waited for her to say something, anything. But she didn't. She just let her tears fall silently.

"Gene," she finally whispered. "Can you take me home?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "Whatever you want, I'll do it."

He drove her back to Kennedy's place.

Marianne stepped out and ran her hands along the walls of the home she'd lived in for years. It felt frozen in time like she could still hear the echoes of laughter from when she first moved in.

"Babe, we have a home now! No more bending over backward for anyone!"

"Babe, let's have a daughter, okay? Someone as sweet as you."

"Wait, no, what if she loves me more than you? Would you get jealous?"

Babe, babe… Eventually, that just became Marianne.

"Suzanne's just staying here for a while; she won't bother us."

"I'm only checking on Suzie, why are you upset again?"

Suzanne, Suzanne… Until it was just Suzie.

The only thing in life that doesn't change is that everything changes.

Marianne gave the place one last look before turning to Gene with a small smile.

"Help me pack. It doesn't matter where we go."

And just like that, she began to pack her things.

Clothes from Kennedy? Thrown out.

Jewelry? Packed up to pawn.

"Anne, what about these?" Gene pointed at the wall of photos.

He wanted to rip them down and toss them into the fireplace, but he waited for her answer.

"The ones with me and Kennedy? Trash them. If they have Suzanne in them too, cut me out."

She said it calmly, with great resignation.

Gene didn't question her. He did exactly what she asked. The wall that once held happy memories became empty, torn, and bare in minutes.

When she finished cleaning, Marianne pulled out an old, cracked trophy from the bottom of the box.

It was Kennedy's first award—a Best Supporting Actor win.

She remembered how he promised to take care of her after she jumped into an icy lake and hurt herself. He swore he'd succeed, make her life better, make her happy. He'd even engraved her name on the trophy, along with the word "baby."

"Babe, I'll protect you forever. I'll take care of our little family."

Ten years later, and look where that got them.

Marianne grabbed a small knife off the table and scratched her name and "baby" off the trophy, pressing so hard her hand started to bleed. She didn't even notice.

"It's done," she said finally, looking around the house one last time. A deep breath, a slight smile. "Let's go."

'Let's go. I'm really leaving this time, Kennedy,' she whispered in her head.

Gene draped his coat over her shoulders and silently walked with her out the door.

'Whoever hurt you will pay for it, Anne. I'll make sure of that.'

Moments later, as they drove away, Kennedy's car pulled up outside.