Chapter 3 · He Gave Her My Prize-So I Took A Better Man

The next day, I went to join a country lifestyle TV show as a special guest.

After a long, winding drive through the country roads, I spotted Mia the moment I stepped out of the car.

Lucy had mentioned the show had switched up the guest lineup at the last minute, but honestly, I never expected it would be Mia.

Just then, someone else got out of her car.

I froze right there.

It was Henry.

Mia was hanging onto Henry's arm, all sweet and giggly, saying something that made Henry—normally the picture of seriousness—wear a gentle, devoted smile I'd never seen before.

Henry had always been too proud to stoop to television, dismissing it as bland and lowbrow.

When the producers of a top-tier talent show offered him an obscene eight-figure paycheck just to sit on the judging panel, he didn't even hesitate—he turned it down flat.

But now, out of nowhere, he actually showed up here—with Mia, no less.

Guess all those so-called high standards went right out the window for someone who actually meant something to him.

And I was never that person.

My fingers tightened around the handle of my suitcase as I strode past them, head held high, not even sparing them a glance.

Mia called out to me, grinning, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She said, "Anna, last night's victory party was a blast. I had Henry invite you so you could join the fun—why didn't you come?"

Between me and Henry, I was always the one who had to swallow my pride and reach out first.

Given what went down yesterday, Henry definitely wouldn't have reached out to me.

"I didn't see the point in going," I said flatly.

Mia's eyes grew watery as she said, "Anna, are you still blaming me because you didn't win Best Actress? If I'd known it mattered so much to you, I wouldn't have accepted it at all."

Henry, who'd been silent up till now, finally snapped, "Anna, don't make this ugly. You missed out because of your own performance—so why pin it on a kid?"

Even though I'd promised myself I wouldn't care anymore, his words cut deep all the same.

I drew in a long breath and shot back, "Let's not kid ourselves. We both know the truth."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked straight toward the farmhouse, leaving them behind.

By the time lunch rolled around, Henry was parked right beside Mia, loading up her plate with all her favorites and even picking out the onion she couldn't stand.

The host was practically giddy as he egged them on.

He said, "Mr. Dawson, you're seriously next-level—knowing exactly what Mia likes, and she's the only artist at your company. So, what's the deal with you two?"

Everyone at the table gave each other knowing looks, totally jumping in on the teasing and making the whole scene feel like some live-action gossip session.

Mia blushed hard and shot Henry a look.

She asked, "Henry, what do you think?"

Henry slowly peeled a shrimp, then tossed a glance my way like it meant nothing.

He said, "Mia's been with me since we were kids. I treat her as my sister. That's all—don't overthink it."

The group picked up on it and quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

Mia's smile froze, but she quickly smoothed it over and dropped a piece of fish onto my plate.

She said, "Try it, Anna, it's super tasty. Henry made it just for me—it's my absolute favorite."

I glanced up at Henry in shock, unable to hide my surprise.

We'd spent eight years together, and I had no idea he could even cook.

I only found out through someone else.

"I don't want it," I said calmly.

Mia's eyes filled with tears. She said, "Anna, you're still holding a grudge about that award, aren't you? Is that why you won't eat?"

Everyone else at the table clammed up, too nervous to say a word.

A heavy, awkward silence hung in the air.

The whole showdown between Mia and me was already the talk of the town, so when the producers suddenly switched the guest list, it was obvious—they wanted us to stir up drama and feud on camera and rake in the views.

Henry frowned and snapped, "Anna, seriously—don't take your loss out on somebody else. Mia's just trying to be nice, and now she's all upset because of you. Why can't you just accept her kindness for once?"

I stared straight into his eyes, then flashed him a mocking grin.

I sneered, "Bet you didn't even know, Mr. Dawson—I'm allergic to seafood."

Henry knew Mia better than he ever cared to know me.

Henry's face froze for a moment, as if something finally clicked—and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Chapter 3

The next day, I went to join a country lifestyle TV show as a special guest.

After a long, winding drive through the country roads, I spotted Mia the moment I stepped out of the car.

Lucy had mentioned the show had switched up the guest lineup at the last minute, but honestly, I never expected it would be Mia.

Just then, someone else got out of her car.

I froze right there.

It was Henry.

Mia was hanging onto Henry's arm, all sweet and giggly, saying something that made Henry—normally the picture of seriousness—wear a gentle, devoted smile I'd never seen before.

Henry had always been too proud to stoop to television, dismissing it as bland and lowbrow.

When the producers of a top-tier talent show offered him an obscene eight-figure paycheck just to sit on the judging panel, he didn't even hesitate—he turned it down flat.

But now, out of nowhere, he actually showed up here—with Mia, no less.

Guess all those so-called high standards went right out the window for someone who actually meant something to him.

And I was never that person.

My fingers tightened around the handle of my suitcase as I strode past them, head held high, not even sparing them a glance.

Mia called out to me, grinning, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She said, "Anna, last night's victory party was a blast. I had Henry invite you so you could join the fun—why didn't you come?"

Between me and Henry, I was always the one who had to swallow my pride and reach out first.

Given what went down yesterday, Henry definitely wouldn't have reached out to me.

"I didn't see the point in going," I said flatly.

Mia's eyes grew watery as she said, "Anna, are you still blaming me because you didn't win Best Actress? If I'd known it mattered so much to you, I wouldn't have accepted it at all."

Henry, who'd been silent up till now, finally snapped, "Anna, don't make this ugly. You missed out because of your own performance—so why pin it on a kid?"

Even though I'd promised myself I wouldn't care anymore, his words cut deep all the same.

I drew in a long breath and shot back, "Let's not kid ourselves. We both know the truth."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked straight toward the farmhouse, leaving them behind.

By the time lunch rolled around, Henry was parked right beside Mia, loading up her plate with all her favorites and even picking out the onion she couldn't stand.

The host was practically giddy as he egged them on.

He said, "Mr. Dawson, you're seriously next-level—knowing exactly what Mia likes, and she's the only artist at your company. So, what's the deal with you two?"

Everyone at the table gave each other knowing looks, totally jumping in on the teasing and making the whole scene feel like some live-action gossip session.

Mia blushed hard and shot Henry a look.

She asked, "Henry, what do you think?"

Henry slowly peeled a shrimp, then tossed a glance my way like it meant nothing.

He said, "Mia's been with me since we were kids. I treat her as my sister. That's all—don't overthink it."

The group picked up on it and quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

Mia's smile froze, but she quickly smoothed it over and dropped a piece of fish onto my plate.

She said, "Try it, Anna, it's super tasty. Henry made it just for me—it's my absolute favorite."

I glanced up at Henry in shock, unable to hide my surprise.

We'd spent eight years together, and I had no idea he could even cook.

I only found out through someone else.

"I don't want it," I said calmly.

Mia's eyes filled with tears. She said, "Anna, you're still holding a grudge about that award, aren't you? Is that why you won't eat?"

Everyone else at the table clammed up, too nervous to say a word.

A heavy, awkward silence hung in the air.

I stared straight into his eyes, then flashed him a mocking grin.

I sneered, "Bet you didn't even know, Mr. Dawson—I'm allergic to seafood."

Henry knew Mia better than he ever cared to know me.

Henry's face froze for a moment, as if something finally clicked—and he wasn't sure he liked it.