Chapter 1
This world was nothing more than a novel.
And I was the heroine of that story.
I had known this from the moment I was born.
So, three days after I caught Jackson Russell cheating on me, I stood in the empty room, my eyes still red from crying, and spoke in the same spoiled tone I always used, "Mother, this toy is dirty now. Replace it with something better."
The next second, the air froze.
The curtains moved without a breeze.
The entire world began to turn, page by page, like a book coming alive.
Then a gentle yet excited voice echoed from the void. "What would you like? I will get you anything you want. Anyone who doesn't love my heroine should live."
*****
It was easy to catch Jackson cheating.
He kept hiding his phone, flaking on dates, and honestly, the signs couldn't have been more obvious.
When a guy loves you, he wants to show you everything—no secrets, nothing to hide.
But when he doesn't, even his phone suddenly turns into a no-go zone.
Back then, I could just pick up Jackson's phone whenever I wanted.
His password was my birthday.
He used to say, "Audrina, everything important in my life, it's all yours to see."
Jackson was truly wonderful back then.
At least, he was wonderful when he still loved me.
He'd slip my cold hands into his coat pocket on winter days.
He'd drop a billion-dollar contract just to rush over and bring me medicine when my stomach hurt during a meeting.
When Junior tried to force him into a marriage alliance with someone else, he knelt outside my house all night, just to get my dad to agree to let him marry me.
He once looked at me with red eyes and said, "Audrina, I can live without anything else. But I can't live without you."
Back then, I really believed him.
After all, I was the main girl, and he was my leading man.
The love between the main girl and her guy was supposed to be the strongest, the brightest, the purest thing in this whole world, something no one could ever taint.
So when I first noticed he was changing, I didn't even suspect he was cheating.
I just figured he was busy lately.
The Russell Group was negotiating with Yonzora Capital on a 3 billion dollar deal, so of course Jackson was working late every night.
When he didn't reply to my messages, I always found reasons for him.
When he said he had too many meetings, my heart ached for him.
When he said he couldn't have dinner with me, I even had the butler send soup to the Russell Group for him.
That night, I ended up waiting for him outside the Russell Group for two whole hours.
The rain was pouring down.
I sat in the car, watching as the lights on the top floor of the Russell Group building flickered off one after another.
The driver turned around for the third time and asked, "Miss Cline, do you want me to call Mr. Russell?"
I looked down at my phone.
Half an hour ago, I sent Jackson a text: [When are you coming down? I'm waiting for you outside.]
He still hadn't replied.
Ten minutes ago, I sent another message: [The rain's pouring. I really want to see you.]
There was still no reply.
I was not really the clingy type.
Ever since I was a kid, I knew I was the heroine, so this world showered me with love, almost too much.
My dad adored me, my friends were crazy about me, even the readers loved me, and my mom, the one who created this whole world, was totally on my side, no hiding it.
I never lacked love.
So I never needed to cling to anyone just to prove I was loved.
But that day, I suddenly wanted to see Jackson.
Maybe it was because he hadn't actually sat down for dinner with me in seventeen days.
Maybe it was because I'd spent four hours at the board meeting, outsmarting a bunch of old foxes and winning big, but for some reason, I felt drained.
Or maybe it was because, for the past couple of weeks, there was this weird, nagging feeling in my heart.
Like a delicate porcelain vase, on the outside, it looked flawless, but inside, there was a thin crack that no one could see.
I wanted to see him.
I wanted to hear him call me "Audrina" in that soft voice, just like he used to.
I wanted him to hold me for a moment.
Just for a moment, that was all I needed.
But he never showed up.
Instead, I saw a black Bentley rolling out from the underground garage at the Russell Group building.
I knew that license plate all too well.
It was Jackson's car.
As the car rolled past me, the back window slid halfway down.
I saw Jackson.
There was a woman leaning on his shoulder.
She wore a white knit dress, her hair a little damp, her face pale, like a rain-soaked white blossom.
She was wrapped in Jackson's suit jacket.
When Jackson gazed at her, his eyes were so soft.
That tenderness, I used to know it by heart.
That softness was once reserved only for me.
The driver saw it too, and his face instantly drained of color. "Miss Cline..."