"Rhea loves your work, so don’t keep her waiting."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, freezing me in place.

He knew better than anyone that I hadn’t touched a camera since the day I took my parents’ memorial portraits.

And yet, he still said this.

My fingers clenched tightly around the phone and my voice trembled as I forced the words out.

"I can’t help you with this. I don’t know how to take good photos. Just find someone else."

Justin’s patience immediately snapped.

"Mind your manners. Don’t forget the contract you agreed to. You don’t get to make demands of me."

"Half an hour. One minute late and I’ll see you at the police station."

The line went dead with a brutal click and my chest throbbed with pain.

When I collapsed onto the bed, my tears streamed down, soaking the pillow and sheets.

Perhaps… perhaps he had kept me around all this time for this very moment.

But there was no time to dwell. I grabbed my long-unused camera equipment with dust clinging stubbornly to its surface and ran to the beach.

The coastline stretched out before me, empty except for the small filming crew.

I had chosen this place simply because I loved it.

Justin had once bought this land at a staggering price.

I remember teasing him back then, "Buying land and leaving it undeveloped—won’t you end up losing everything, my dear Mr. Harlow?"

He had held me in his arms, his eyes fixed on the sunset. His voice had been so gentle that it almost felt like a dream.

"Having you is the greatest reward heaven could ever give me."

For that one sentence, I had chosen this place for our wedding photos.

And for our wedding itself.

I had imagined us walking hand in hand along the shore, receiving the blessings of our family and friends.

I had pictured our children laughing as we played together in the sand. 

And I had even taught myself a bit of architectural design, sketching a seaside villa that would be our secret hideaway, just for the two of us.

Now, every one of those dreams lay shattered, the fragments turning into sharp blades slicing into my heart.

Rhea had been waiting for a while, impatience already written across her face.

She slipped her arm through Justin’s and gave it a light shake, her tone sweet but tinged with complaint.

"UV rays cause aging, you know. I’ve been baking in the sun all this time—you owe me."

"Put the villa in my name and buy me that Hermès bag I’ve been wanting."

"Just in case you ever change your mind—consider it my insurance."

Her playful manner drew a laugh from him almost instantly.

"Change my mind? That won’t happen until I’m dead."

"You’re too late anyway—the bag and the property deed are already on your bedside table. You’ll see them when you get home."

"Next time, try asking for something I don’t already know about, or you'll ruin the surprise."

When her eyes flicked toward me, Rhea leaned even closer into him, tightening her grip on his arm.

"Starlene, you’re here. I heard you majored in photography—mind handling today’s shoot?"

"Oh and I don’t like red roses. Change them to white lilies. They suit my personality better."

My breath caught in my throat.

In my parents’ memorial photos, they had been surrounded by white lilies.

That image flashed through my mind again and again, the tension in my head winding tighter until it felt as if it might snap.

"Miss, weddings are meant to be joyful. White lilies just… carry a heavy meaning. How about we choose another white flower instead?"

Rhea's voice immediately turned sharp. 

"What’s that supposed to mean? I have to set aside my own preferences just to please you now? Why are you talking to me like this? Are you calling someone here… a depressing person?"

Justin’s face darkened instantly, his eyes cutting toward me like shards of ice.

"She likes it, so that’s what we’ll use. You’re just a hired hand here—remember your place."

"And if I hear that tone from you again, you know exactly what will happen."

The wound on my palm had barely healed and now it split open beneath my nails. Warm blood seeped into the sand, blooming red against the pale grains.

I swallowed the storm rising in my chest, forcing my voice to stay steady.

After a long, heavy silence, I simply nodded.

I should have walked away from this relationship long ago.

And yet, in that moment, I felt an odd, fleeting gratitude toward him—gratitude for his cruelty. Because it forced me to wake up faster than I ever could have on my own.

Once the camera equipment was in place, I shot in three different styles.

With every click of the shutter, Rhea’s smile thinned.

"Starlene, are you doing this on purpose? Trying to get back at me?"

"What’s the difference between these dull shots and any other wedding photos?"

"Don’t play innocent. I saw the wedding photos in your room—the ones you took with someone else. That’s the style I want."

She was talking about the sample shots I had taken with Justin back then. In the final edits, I had erased his face for artistic effect.

His gaze swept over me, calm and cold, his tone carrying an unshakable certainty.

"Is this too hard for you, Starlene? You wouldn’t forget something you shot yourself, would you?"

"I remember. So… please bear with me one more time?"

I knew I had no right to refuse. My voice could not hide the weariness seeping into my bones.

Rhea’s intentions were too obvious. 

And yet Justin didn’t even bother to intervene.

Thousands of shots later, she still wasn’t satisfied.

It wasn’t that I failed to capture the way Justin looked at her with open admiration.

It was that I kept "getting the lighting wrong," "missing the right pose," "choosing the wrong moment."

Only when the camera memory was completely full did she finally nod in approval.

"That’s it. Though, of course, the very first one was the best."

After that, they turned toward the car together. 

"Starlene, the sports car only seats two. I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own way back."

"The passenger seat belongs to her anyway. She knows her place."

I let my arms drop helplessly. After holding the camera for so long, my muscles ached too much to even lift it again.

By the time I returned to the villa that night, it was well past midnight and the mountain of photo edits was still waiting for me.

Rhea had suddenly decided to move the wedding up by an entire week.

It now landed squarely on the date that was once meant for my own wedding.

Over the next three days, I scraped together barely five hours of sleep in total.

On the morning of the wedding, my phone buzzed nonstop with messages from relatives back home.

They wanted to know why I had suddenly canceled my wedding and whether something had gone wrong between Justin and me.

The family group chat was packed with messages urging me not to be impulsive.

They reminded me, again and again, that the Harlow Family’s background was far beyond my reach.

Every word meant as comfort only pressed deeper into my wound and I couldn’t bring myself to reply.

The vast villa was silent, only the maid and I remained. Rhea had given everyone else the day off before the wedding "to avoid distractions."

For six hours straight, I ran from room to room, making sure every last decoration was in place.

I had thought that after these grueling days, I might be able to watch this wedding, the one that wasn’t mine, with a kind of detached calm.

But the moment I saw Rhea wearing the wedding dress I had spent half a year choosing, my vision blurred.

Her lips curved in a smile.

"Am I really that beautiful, Starlene? Why are you crying?"

"They decided at the last minute to switch to a conventional wedding style. The makeup artist didn’t know how to adjust for it, so she quit."

"By the way, you’re so good at makeup. Why don’t you do mine today?"

She was about the same size as me, so the gown fit her perfectly and no alterations were needed.

Dizziness hit me and the staircase seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Suddenly, a figure appeared behind me and I stumbled into a broad chest.

Rhea tilted her head, pouting in mock grievance.

"If you don’t want to, just say so, Starlene. No need to make a show of refusing me, okay?"

Turning around, I met Justin’s eyes—cold, sharp and threatening.

"She wouldn’t dare, would you, Starlene?"

In that instant, the dam inside me finally burst.

I almost asked Justin if, from the very beginning, he had never intended for me to wear this dress.

If, from the start, I had never been the real bride in his version of the story.

If my presence had only ever been a bargaining chip, a lure to bring Rhea Winslet back to this country.

But all those questions tangled in my throat and his sharp, warning gaze snuffed out any courage I had.

In the end, I could only force out one word. "Okay."

When the makeup was finished and the wedding began, Rhea wasted no time in taking me away again.

Under the watchful eyes of every guest, she stood on stage hand in hand with Justin, the picture of a perfect couple.

They slid onto each other’s fingers the wedding rings I had custom-ordered.

They drank from the wedding cups I had personally chosen.

When the host prompted them to embrace and kiss, Rhea’s eyes immediately found me, sparkling with excitement.

"This moment is so important, so we have to record it. Starlene, you handle the filming."

"So we can show it to our baby someday."

Dozens of gazes turned toward me at once.

And my blood ran cold.

Only then did Justin seem to realize I was even there.

"Why did you bring her?"

"There are plenty of reporters here. She doesn't need to handle this."

Rhea pouted in fake annoyance.

"Say that again and I’ll run straight out of this wedding. Reporters’ photos are just terrible—what if people think you, the great Justin Harlow, married an ugly monster?"

"All right, fine. Let her do it."

And so, the two of them kissed deeply for ten full minutes. And for that ten full minutes, I stood there holding the camera.

Even the lines the host spoke to stir up cheers—those were my words.

Now, they were blessings for someone else.

Something inside me broke. My knees gave way and I sank to the side.

The last thing I heard before darkness closed in was their voices, perfectly in sync.

"I do."

When I opened my eyes again, the ceremony was already over and the driver was taking me back to the villa.

He mentioned casually that Justin had taken Rhea on their honeymoon and wouldn’t return for two months.

I glanced down at the faint bruises and needle marks on the back of my hand, which were still not healed.

And suddenly, I remembered—back when I still loved him—waiting in the pouring rain for three hours while he finished a business dinner.

I had fallen sick afterward. And that time, he stayed by my side the entire time, never leaving.

He had said softly back then, "It’s my fault for not taking care of my woman properly."

"This lifetime, I swear I’ll never let you catch a cold again."

Slowly, I stood and began packing only my own belongings, leaving everything he had given me behind.

As I slid into the car, his plane must have landed, because a rare message appeared on my phone.

[You’ve done so well. The house is in your hands. Hold on for two more months and I’ll be back soon.]

[When I return, I’ll arrange a wedding for you, one that will be even grander than Rhea’s.]

[Thank you for your understanding, Starlene. I just don’t want Rhea to have any regrets before she leaves.]

But why must their regrets always be paid with my own sincerity?

Tears slid onto the phone screen. I didn’t reply. Instead, I dialed another number.

"Dr. Brian? Yes, please help me get a death certificate."

Since he loved to act, I would give him a stage and this would be my final gift to him.

The death certificate arrived at the villa and I dragged my suitcase out the door without looking back, heading straight for the airport.

At that same moment, in Paris, Justin stared at his phone. The message thread remained unanswered for so long that a prickling unease and irritation began to stir.

"What’s wrong with Starlene? We just left and she’s already out of reach. Can’t you control her?"

"She doesn’t answer calls or reply to messages. Who spoiled her like this?"

Rhea emerged from the bathroom in a loose bathrobe, damp hair dripping onto her shoulders.

Her smooth legs hooked around the man’s waist.

"With how exhausting the wedding was, it’s normal for Starlene to want some rest."

"If I had a boss as cold-hearted as you, I would have quit long ago."

"Since we’re on our honeymoon, don’t worry about things at home. We can talk it out with Starlene when we return."

Justin gave a brief nod, his eyes already clouding over with desire.

Two months later, they finally returned from their honeymoon abroad.

As soon as they stepped into the villa, Justin’s voice rang out instinctively, "Starlene? Starlene, quick help Rhea with her luggage."

This time, there was no familiar, gentle reply.

The servants froze mid-task, exchanging uneasy glances before one of them stepped forward.

"Sir, Starlene left two months ago."

"She only left this behind and she said you should see it yourself."

The servant extended a medical diagnosis. Terminal cancer.

At a glance, the blood drained from Justin’s face.