Chapter 1

I was a notorious Z-list actress in showbiz.

With the end of my life drawing near, I let loose completely and got a job for haunted house livestreams.

With my salary and live-streaming income, I was making hundreds of thousands of dollars a month without breaking a sweat.

Then my ex, Andrew Lane, the award-winning A-list actor, popped into my livestream. One line from him got the chat shut down.

Once again, everyone dragged me all over the trending pages.

Days later, some of his fans were gossiping, saying they hadn't seen me scamming people on livestreams for ages.

Surprisingly, Andrew replied, "She is probably hiding somewhere because she feels guilty."

But I wasn't hiding out of guilt at all. I couldn't come back anymore.

*****

The day I got my terminal diagnosis, Andrew came back to the country.

The largest film studio nationwide had spent 200 million dollars to make a fantasy blockbuster for him.

I heard they were casting for all sorts of roles.

I grabbed my daughter and rushed over, hoping to snag any tiny random part to get by.

Frank Wilson, the assistant director, was getting more and more impatient with me after I'd been pestering him for ages. "Olivia, it's not that I don't want to do you a favor.

"But have you seen what people are saying about you online? Your reputation is in the gutter."

I kept forcing a smile and pushed on. "If that's not possible, let me be one of those extras rolling in the mud.

"50 dollars a day and a meal will be enough for me. Once I'm covered in mud, no one will recognize me."

Frank clicked his tongue irritably and waved for someone to have me dragged away.

Suddenly, my four-year-old daughter, Emily Lane, tugged at my sleeve and said timidly, "Mom, that looks like Dad."

She'd seen Andrew's photos before.

The set was noisy and chaotic everywhere.

I didn't catch what Emily said. With people about to drag me away, I scrambled to plead, "30 dollars a day is fine, too. Please help—"

I was probably way too worked up. Before I could finish, a burning pain flared up in my throat.

My stomach churned, and I threw up bitter fluid streaked with blood.

I wiped the blood off my mouth messily.

Emily, who was beside me, burst into tears out of fright. "Mom, you're coughing up blood."

I tried to say I was fine, but everything went dark. I grabbed hold of a nearby pillar to keep from collapsing.

Frank sneered with disgust. "Same old trick. How many fake blood packs have you stolen from the set?"

Emily burst into panicked tears. She suddenly pulled free from my grip and sprinted off.

There were so many crew members milling around; it'd be easy to lose her.

I pushed myself to turn and go after Emily.

But then I saw her a few steps away, clinging to a man's sleeve. "Dad, Mom is throwing up blood!"

The sun was blazing overhead, making my head spin.

I followed the sleeve up with my gaze, and before I could prepare myself, I met those incredibly cold eyes.

Those familiar features held an unfamiliar indifference. Surrounded by a crowd, the man looked at me as if I were a nobody.

The spot beside him that used to be mine as his assistant now belonged to another young, pretty girl.

Their fingers were laced together, leaving no doubt about the nature of their relationship.

Maybe everything in this world could be replaced.

It felt like my blood froze in my veins. My blood-stained hand shook uncontrollably, and I instinctively hid it behind my back.

Over the past five years, I'd grown a seriously thick skin.

But right then, I suddenly felt embarrassed. I never imagined I'd look this messed up when we met again five years later.

Frank was still yelling behind me, "Scram! Get lost. Lock up the back gate of the set. Don't let her sneak in again."

Andrew noticed me and then glanced down at Emily, who was clutching his sleeve.

His shock at seeing the kid suddenly pop up quickly turned into disgust.

I tried to call Emily back and opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I felt frozen right there.

Five years had passed. I thought Andrew might never set foot in Jinston again.

Frank shot me a glare. Then he hurried over and yanked Emily away from Andrew.

He switched to a fawning smile. "Sorry you had to see that mess, Mr. Lane.

"Olivia and her daughter are cut from the same cloth. They've both got no shame all these years."

Andrew's gaze drifted off me coldly. He kept walking, and I caught a faint, mocking laugh from him. "Yeah, they really look alike."

Frank grinned even harder.