My name is Mandy Eisenman—the cold, untouchable top actress everyone envies on screen.

I was also the woman loved and protected for five years by Erving Pollock, the heir who owned half the resources of New York’s entertainment industry.

To win my heart, he once stood in the pouring rain for hours, nearly losing his life shielding me from an obsessed fan’s attack.

When I won Best Actress, he was in the audience with reddened eyes, clapping the hardest, looking even more emotional than I was.

I thought that kind of love would last forever. But then Anya Heffernan came into the picture.

She was a painter who got hit by a car saving Erving. And just like that, she became the third party in our relationship.

He started skipping the candlelit dinners I planned just so he could accompany her to the movies.

He gave her the scarf I had stayed up all night knitting, just because she said she was cold.

Even when she spilled coffee on my haute couture dress, he rushed to comfort her, leaving me behind.

Whenever I felt wronged and complained, he would always bring up that car accident, making me feel like I was overreacting.

One day, headlines blew up the entire internet.

[Painter Anya Heffernan’s latest piece, inspired by a mysterious nude actress, stuns the auction world!]

Only then did the fragile calm I had been clinging to completely shatter.

…

The woman in the painting was half-lying on the bed, her skin fair as snow, completely exposed. Her hair hid her face, but the familiar curves of her body—and the mole on her shoulder and neck that only I have—all silently declared to the world that the figure in the painting was me.

The only person who could have gotten hold of my nude photos and let Anya use my body for attention was Erving.

My phone shook uncontrollably in my hand. In just one hour, the hashtag [#MandyNudePortraitModel] had skyrocketed to the top of the trending list. The comments poured in like a tidal wave, full of crude, vulgar speculation.

Those same people who once praised my elegance were now digging through my private life with filthy words.

My face went pale. Pain twisted my chest until it felt impossible to breathe. I stumbled out of the house and drove straight to Erving’s company.

When I pushed open the office door, Anya was sitting on the couch, pouting proudly.

“Erving, did you see it? My painting finally went viral!”

Erving stroked her hair affectionately. “That’s because you’re a talented painter.”

He didn’t even mention that she’d used my body as her subject. When he noticed me, he barely looked up. “What are you doing here? It’s cold outside. Wear something warm.”

“That painting,” I said, my voice shaking, each word forced out through clenched teeth. “Did you tell her to paint it?”

He frowned, stubbed out his cigarette, and rose as if to pull me into his arms. But I shoved him away with all my strength.

Annoyance flickered across his face before he masked it with his usual soothing tone. “Mandy, don’t make a scene. Anya’s dream has always been to become a great artist, but no one paid attention to her work. I just helped her a little.”

“Helped her?” I laughed, but my tears spilled over before I could stop them. “You call that help? Using my body? Erving, what do you think I am—a prop for you to flaunt whenever you guys want?”

“You’re overreacting.” He frowned even more. “Your face isn’t in the painting. No one can prove it’s you. The hype will die down in a few days. Anya stayed up nights working on that painting. Can’t you just show a little understanding?”

That sentence was like a knife, piercing my heart violently.

I looked at the man in front of me and remembered how he had chased me five years ago.

Back then, his eyes were full of me. But now, his indifference and cruelty were just as real.

I wiped my tears and made my decision. “Erving, we’re getting a divorce.”

His face darkened instantly. The air around him seemed to thicken. He stepped forward and gripped my wrist so hard I thought he might break my bones.

“Divorce? Mandy, don’t forget—your mom is still staying in the hospital under my name. The doctors, the equipment, everything there—you owe that to me. If you leave, her treatment—”

“Erving!”

I widened my eyes in terror, unable to believe he would threaten me with my mom!

Her heart condition had always been my weakness. For years, I had relied entirely on his resources for her treatment. I never imagined that dependence would become the very chain he would use to control me.

His grip tightened. His gaze was dark and obsessive. “Behave, Mandy. Don’t push me.”

A cold dread washed over me. I felt myself falling into a bottomless pit, realizing that no matter how I struggled, I was already trapped in his web.

At that moment of my despair, my phone vibrated violently.

“Ma’am! Something’s wrong! Your mother just had a heart attack. She’s in critical condition!”

My mind went blank. “I’m coming! Tell the doctors to save her! Do whatever it takes!”

Erving frowned and started to follow me out. Just as he was about to tell the driver to prepare the car, Anya collapsed into his arms, crying, “Erving, I feel dizzy… It must be the aftereffects from the car accident…”

He immediately scooped her up. “Get a doctor! I’m taking Anya to the hospital!”

When I arrived alone at my mom’s hospital room, a nurse shook her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. All the doctors were called away by Sir Erving to attend to Ma’am Anya. Your mother… missed the critical treatment window.”

My knees buckled. I fell to the floor, staring blankly toward the doorway.

There, Erving was helping Anya out of a room, murmuring, “Good thing it was just low blood sugar.”

Not a single trace of concern for my mother showed on his face, only care and tenderness for his other woman.

At that moment, I swore, the last spark of love I had for him died completely.

That night, back at the villa, I opened an old, unread email.

It was from my former university mentor, a renowned Hollywood director. He invited me to fly to London in ten days to play the lead in his new film and stay there to continue my career.

I had hesitated before because of Erving. Now, I didn’t hesitate at all. With certainty, I accepted the invitation.

In ten days, I would announce my retirement from the industry and leave behind this city that had once made me love so deeply and hurt me more than I ever thought possible.

The next day, I went to see Erving with the divorce papers in hand. He was busy helping Anya plan her art exhibition.

He personally handled even the smallest details—proof enough of how much she meant to him.

I placed the document on his desk. Without even glancing at it, he picked up his pen and signed his name.

As I took the papers back, my chest tightened painfully. I clenched my fists and said coldly, “Erving, my mom is gone. All because of you—”

“I know.” He cut me off without looking up. “Anya suddenly felt dizzy that day. It was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.”

He said it so casually, as if the person who died wasn’t his mother-in-law but some stranger who had nothing to do with him.

Then he added, “You can fill in any amount you want for compensation. If it’s not enough, let me know.”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief.

So that’s what he thought—I came here for money?

In his mind, my mother’s life could be erased and replaced by a few numbers on a check?

Before I could speak, the office door opened softly.

Anya walked in.

The moment he saw her, Erving stood up and hurried over to steady her, his tone instantly gentle. “Why didn’t you wait for me in the studio? Don’t come over here by yourself again.”

Then he turned back to me, introducing her as naturally as if we were all family. “I’ve decided to have Anya move into the villa. She’s not in good health. It’ll be easier for me to take care of her if she’s close by.”

In an instant, my blood turned to ice.

I remembered years ago when he bought that villa, holding my hand as we walked through every room. He’d smiled and said, ‘This is the home I built for us. Everything’s arranged the way you like it. Only you, me, and your mom will live here.’

And now, he was bringing in the woman indirectly responsible for my mother’s death!

“What if I say no?” I asked.

His expression darkened immediately. He instinctively pulled Anya behind him. “Mandy, why are you being so petty? Anya saved my life. If she hadn’t pushed me out of the way back then, I would’ve been the one in the hospital. She’s sick now. What’s wrong with letting her stay here?”

Right on cue, Anya’s eyes reddened. She even pretended to leave. “Erving, am I causing trouble? Maybe I should just go back to the studio. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Don’t go.” He stopped her and shot me a sharp glare filled with disappointment. “How far are you going to push her? I don’t need your permission for this, Mandy.”

Then, he turned to his assistant. “James, go prepare a room.”

With that, he led Anya away. As they brushed past me, I caught the fleeting smirk at the corner of her lips.

When I returned to the villa, there was already a suitcase sitting in the entryway—hers.

I pretended not to notice and went straight to my mom’s old room.

I wanted to look through her belongings. But the moment I stepped in, I realized the amethyst necklace from her bedside table was missing.

That necklace had been a gift from my dad, a symbol of their love. Mom had worn it until the day she died. It meant everything to her.

I looked for the personal assistant. He hesitated before reporting, “This afternoon, only Ma’am Anya went into that room. She said she wanted to look at Ma’am Georgia’s things… for artistic inspiration.”

Before he could finish, I was already heading for the living room.

There she was, sitting gracefully on the couch, her fingers stroking the amethyst necklace now resting against her neck. She smiled brightly. “Erving, this necklace is beautiful. It suits me perfectly.”

“Give it back to me!” I shouted, rushing over and reaching for it.

But Erving moved fast, shoving me away before I could lay a finger on that woman.

The impact made me stumble and crash into the coffee table, pain shooting through my elbow.

He held Anya protectively in his arms, glaring at me. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Anya flinched, her eyes filling with tears. “Mandy, I’m sorry… I just thought the necklace had an artistic feel. I didn’t mean to take it. I’ll give it back right now…”

She started to remove it, but Erving stopped her hand.

“No need.” He frowned at me, irritation flashing in his eyes, tinged with contempt. “It’s just a necklace. The diamond ones I’ve bought you cost far more than this. Mandy, do you really have to act so greedy and fight with Anya over it?”

Then, he remembered the divorce papers earlier that morning, his tone grew even colder. “I already signed your settlement. If the money’s not enough, just say so. Now, stop embarrassing yourself here.”

I stood there frozen, tears spilling down uncontrollably.

In the past, he would’ve dropped everything to comfort me. But now, he didn’t even glance my way.

He just took Anya’s hand and led her upstairs.

His final words were brutal. “Don’t be afraid. With me here, she won’t dare do anything.”

The vast living room felt unbearably empty.

From upstairs came that familiar gentle coaxing voice of his, only this time, the one he was comforting wasn’t me.

I reached into my pocket and caressed the divorce papers, then slowly closed my eyes.

‘Thank god,’ I thought, ‘Just nine more days, and I’ll finally be free.’

After that day, I grew colder toward Erving.

Even though we lived under the same roof, I barely acknowledged him anymore, no matter how many times he tried to start a conversation.

Then one morning, he suddenly came to me and said the arrangements for my mother’s funeral were finalized.

The early wind was sharp and cold, pressing the fabric of my plain dress tightly against my legs.

I stared at the black car parked in front of me, my voice came out rough and faint when I asked, “The cemetery and the ceremony… Is everything really settled?”

Erving walked over and adjusted my scarf for me, his tone unnaturally gentle. “Don’t worry. Everything’s set. Today, we’re just meeting a few elders to go over the details and to thank your mother’s old friends. She deserves a dignified farewell.”

I clenched my fists and slid into the car without another word.

Outside the window, the scenery began to grow unfamiliar—quiet streets gave way to the glittering lights of the city center. We were moving farther and farther away from the direction of the cemetery.

A bad feeling surged through me. I was about to ask when the car came to a stop.

In front of me stood the massive glass façade of the New York County Museum of Art, its walls covered with a towering poster.

On it, Anya smiled radiantly in a flowing white dress. Behind her was the silhouette of that nude painting—the one that had destroyed my reputation. Printed below in bold letters were the words [Anya Heffernan Solo Exhibition].

“Erving!” My voice cracked as I turned to him in disbelief. “This isn’t the place for a funeral arrangement! You lied to me?!”

He unbuckled his seatbelt slowly, his earlier gentleness gone, leaving only a cold, matter-of-fact tone. “Anya’s exhibit is critical to her career. It could affect future business partnerships. You showing up would draw more attention.”

It felt like I’d just heard the cruelest joke in the world. Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them.

“Draw attention? You mean parading my humiliation for her benefit?” My voice shook. “You know damn well who she painted! My mother isn’t even buried yet, and you tricked me into attending the art exhibit of the woman who killed her?”

“Just shut up!” His brows furrowed, voice hardening as he grabbed my wrist. “I know what I’m doing with the funeral. Don’t make a scene here.”

His grip was painfully tight. I struggled, but he dragged me inside half by force.

The moment we stepped into the exhibition hall, the noise and flashing lights stung my eyes.

Anya approached at once, dressed in the same color palette as Erving, her skirt swaying gracefully. Her gaze carried a barely concealed triumph.

Erving immediately let go of me and strode toward her. He placed a hand on her arm and said with concern, “Why are you dressed so lightly? Aren’t you cold?”

“Not at all,” she replied sweetly. “You picked this dress for me. I’d wear it even if it snowed.”

As she spoke, her eyes flicked toward my pale face, and a smirk tugged at her lips.

I stood frozen, pain spreading quietly through my chest.

Years ago, when I wore an off-shoulder dress to my first film festival, Erving had glared from the audience. Afterward, he wrapped me in his coat and carried me to the car, scolding, “You’re never wearing something that revealing again.”

Back then, his eyes were full of me. Now, they saw no one but Anya.

Before I could even process that cruel contrast, reporters swarmed around me, microphones nearly brushing my face.

“Mandy, your mother hasn’t been buried yet, but you came to Anya’s art exhibit. Are you confirming you were the model for her painting?”

“Mandy, seeing how much Mr. Pollock favors Anya, does this mean your position as his wife is at risk?”

“Did you volunteer to pose nude for her? Are you really as… open as the rumors say?”

Their shameless questions cut into me like salt poured over a wound.

I opened my mouth to say I’d been tricked here. But before I could, Erving grabbed my wrist.

He pulled me closer, addressing the press with calm detachment. “It’s just family support. Please don’t overinterpret it. Mandy has just suffered a loss; her emotions are unstable. Let’s keep the focus on the exhibition.”

Then he released me and turned away, greeting businessmen with that polite smile of his. His arm slid naturally around Anya’s shoulders as he introduced, “This is Anya Heffernan, one of the most gifted young painters I’ve ever met.”

The crowd around them erupted with compliments. Anya leaned shyly into Erving, looking every bit like his wife.

I was left standing there, looking the most awkward person in the room.

Some people pointed at me and gossiped, their mocking laughter sharp in my ears.

Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I strode forward, grabbed Erving’s sleeve, and hissed, “Erving, that’s enough! You tricked me here to make a fool of me—is this fun for you? I’m leaving!”

In an instant, his smile froze. When he turned to me, his eyes were already cold.

He shook off my hand violently. I stumbled backward, slamming into a display rack. I gasped as pain shot through me.

“Have you lost your mind?” he snapped. “Nothing can go wrong at Anya’s exhibit!”

Anya hurried over, pretending to help me up. But as she leaned close, she whispered, “Bitch, just face it. The only person in his heart now… is me.”

Then, with a quiver in her voice, she turned to Erving, her eyes misty. “Erving, maybe I shouldn’t have held this exhibit. Should I end it now? I don’t want to upset her...”

“This has nothing to do with you,” he said at once, shielding her behind him.

I stared at the sight of him protecting her, and at that moment, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free.

My lips trembled into a bitter smile. “Erving… What do you even see me as? If that love we had was ever real, then I’m begging you, let me go. Let me keep at least a shred of my dignity.”