Chapter 3

By five in the afternoon, the trending topic was still number one. I had returned to the studio when Harrison's people showed up.

It wasn't him, but his assistant, Felix, who brought a printed statement and two cups of coffee, like he was worried I'd make a scene and came to smooth things over.

Sophie looked upset as she led Felix into the conference room. "What does Harrison mean by this?"

Felix gently placed the statement on the table and said politely, "Harrison said Winnie must be feeling pretty upset right now, so he asked me to talk to you first."

I glanced down at the statement. It said we were ending the engagement peacefully, respecting the child's privacy, and hoping the public wouldn't speculate too much.

The wording was flawless, dignified, and spotless, as if the man who made me remove my ring on stage today was someone else entirely.

"Where is he?"

"He's still dealing with the media."

"And the child?"

"She's already been sent back."

It was like the kid he paraded on stage today wasn't some bomb that could blow my whole life apart, a last-minute PR stunt.

I flipped to the last page of the statement. Harrison's signature was already there.

"So he wants me to sign and make this official for him?"

Felix paused, then nodded reluctantly. "Harrison said it's better for you this way."

"Better for me? How so?"

"At least people won't think you got dumped because of the kid—"

"What do you mean?"

"That you were forced out."

As soon as he finished, Sophie slammed the folder in her hand onto the table. "Get out," she snapped.

Felix's face went pale. I wasn't angry. I pulled the statement closer. Harrison's real talent was never about being loving. It was how he could turn the messiest situations into something that looked perfectly respectable.

He could stand on stage holding another woman's child and still expect me to play along, telling the world we parted ways peacefully.

That way, the kid stayed innocent, he looked like the responsible one, his secret sweetheart could stay in the shadows, and I was the one who had to put on a smile and bow out.

I picked up the last page and held it up to the light. The paper was thick, the ink crisp, not a single crease on the corners.

It was obviously prepared ahead of time, not some patch-up job he thought up on the fly. He'd been planning my exit from the start.

Suddenly, I remembered the first rule in the backstage contingency plan today: [Kept quiet and made no public comment, letting everyone assume it was a clean break.]

I set the paper down and looked up at Felix. "Felix, let me ask you something."

He paused. "Go ahead."

"When you guys put this statement together, did it ever cross your mind to let me know first?"

He opened his mouth but didn't say anything.

"Or let me put it another way." I tapped the paper. "When Harrison signed this, did it ever cross his mind for a second that I might not sign?"

Felix was sweating bullets. "Winnie, Harrison really had no way out. The kid got caught on camera today. If we didn't act fast—"

"So you threw me under the bus."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

The conference room was so quiet, you could only hear the air conditioner. I leaned back, stared at Felix for a couple of seconds, then gave him a cold little smile. "Go tell Harrison. I'm not signing."

Felix's face went pale. "Winnie—"

"And another thing," I said, pushing the statement back toward him. "If he wants me to make a classy exit next time, he can come beg me himself."

Felix started to say something, but Sophie was already at the door, pulling it open. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

As soon as he was out, the conference room door slammed shut. Sophie turned to me, still gripping the doorknob. "So, what's your move now?" she asked.

"First, I'm going to check the books," I said.

"I already had finance pull the records," she said, sliding the tablet over to me. "The 200 thousand dollars at the event today is the tip of the iceberg.

"The team said Harrison's side has been bumping up the budget several times since last month, all under the guise of optimizing joint promotions."

I took the tablet and flipped through the pages. Extra lighting, media packages, a children's makeup artist, an on-site nanny, VIP lounge renovations, and separate transportation arrangements- none of it seemed outrageous on its own.

But strung together, it was a web that had been carefully laid out in advance.

"And this." Sophie opened a forwarded email. The sender was the deputy director of Harrison's studio, with several people cc'ed, including the brand reps and the production team.

The subject line read: [Final Version. Press Conference Run of Show.] The timestamp was the early morning after Harrison proposed.

I stared at that timestamp for a few seconds, my fingers tightening slowly. Last night, he'd been right beside me, holding me, saying we didn't have to hide anymore.

After this press conference, he'd finally set the record straight about our three years together. I wouldn't have to wait for him backstage anymore, or slip out through the side door with my hat on. That night, his people had already been drafting this email.

It felt like something was slowly twisting in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Not because I still loved him, but because it was so absurd that I actually believed him.

Just then, the phone on the table buzzed, Harrison. Sophie glanced at the caller ID, her expression instantly frosty. "Are you going to answer?"

I stared at his name for a couple of seconds, then put it on speaker.

Harrison's voice came through, calm as ever. "Winnie."

"Yeah," I replied.

"Did you get the statement?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Go ahead and release it," he said after a pause. "Don't let things spiral any further."

I scoffed, "Are you worried about things spiraling, or scared your precious persona's gonna take a hit?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "I know you're upset."

"You actually know?"

"I admit I didn't handle things right today."

"That's all? You didn't handle it well?"

He took a breath, keeping his temper in check. "Winnie, the kid's only five."

"So what?"

"Don't take it out on her."

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Sophie was standing next to me, her face pale with anger.

"Harrison." My voice went soft, almost cold. "Today, you made me take off my ring, shoved me aside for your daughter, and sent your people to force a statement on me.

"And now, your first words aren't an explanation or an apology. They're a warning not to hurt the kid. You really know how to make me look like the villain."

He went quiet on the other end. I didn't bother to sugarcoat it. "Relax, I'm not about to pick a fight with a kid. What I want is what you stole from me while throwing me under the bus."

"What do you want?"

"First, give me back my money."

"I'll make it up to you."

"That's the first step." I turned the tablet around and tapped the email. "Harrison, you'd better pray the only thing I find is money."

With that, I hung up. Sophie stared at me, silent. I flipped my phone face down on the table, my voice steady. "Pull up every project, endorsement, joint promo, and investment tied to him under my name."

"Got it," she replied.

"I want the complete list on my desk by tonight."

Sophie nodded and headed out to take care of it.

I sat alone in the conference room as dusk crept in. The building's lights flickered on outside, and my own face stared back at me from the glass.

My makeup hadn't smudged, but one ear was bare, missing its earring, leaving it oddly empty. I looked down, slipped off the other earring, and set it on the table. Now neither matched.

*****

At 9:30, finance sent the preliminary list to my inbox. I opened the first page, three lines in, and I stopped cold.

The first bridge loan for Harrison's new movie, under source, was my company. 2 million dollars. The note said: [Temporary allocation.]

I straightened up. Scrolling down, there were brand swaps, top-tier business placements, overseas prepayments, and a PR slush fund. The more I read, the more numb I felt.

So for these three years, I wasn't the girlfriend he kept in the dark. I was his personal ATM.