Chapter 3
Ethan froze for a split second before instantly turning back to the screen with a heart-shaped hand gesture, completely ignoring my devastation.
"So I’m invisible to you, Ethan?" My voice trembled. "What am I to you?"
The audience erupted in murmurs, countless phones recording the dramatic scene.
On stage, Sofia, visibly startled, quickly signaled the director to cut to someone else.
The moment we vanished from the screen, Ethan's bright smile vanished, replaced by an icy chill.
"Do you have any idea how much money I paid under the table for that screen time?" he snapped.
I was stunned.
"Screen time? Money? You're not an influencer. Why would you pay for that?"
In my mind, only those desperate for exposure and followers would sink money into something like this.
"Scarlett, I've wanted to be an influencer for ages. If it weren't for you holding me back, I'd have millions of followers by now."
His words left me speechless.
He had mentioned wanting to monetize his looks before, to gain fame by acting cute or posting suggestive content online.
I never thought it was a sustainable path, so I had supported him financially and even mentored him in business.
For the first time, I felt I didn't know him at all.
He played the devoted boyfriend in public, yet privately, he saw me this way...
Remembering his Instagram post sent a chill down my spine.
After the concert, Ethan was immediately swarmed by groups of girls.
Ignoring me completely, he pulled out his phone and created a group chat.
"Join this group first. I'll accept all your friend requests one by one later," he said smoothly, acting like a seasoned player. "Oh, and I'll share all my social media handles too. Please follow me!"
I nearly spat in his face and called him shameless.
As the first group hit its 200-member limit and he prepared to create a second, I'd had enough.
I shot to my feet.
"Having fun, Ethan? How many more are you trying to catch?" My meaning was unmistakable.
"Who are you to him? How dare you criticize him like that!"
"We saw you on the screen earlier. You totally ruined the shot, hogging all the space with your fat," another sneered.
"Yeah! Who let this pig start squealing?"
As everyone turned on me, Ethan didn't even glance my way.
He just politely handed out his QR code, smiling and saying, "Thanks for the support."
I realized I didn't know him anymore.
Or perhaps, I never truly had.
I gave him one last look and walked away.
The signal inside the venue was poor.
Only when I got outside did my phone blow up with notifications.
Everyone was messaging me, saying I was trending.
Even my money-obsessed mother, who rarely contacted me, had sent a text.
[You're that fat and still have the nerve to chase after a handsome guy?]
[You're as delusional as your father. Know your place.]
A cold wind cut through my clothes as I walked, but I felt numb.
Couples strolled past me hand-in-hand, chatting about the concert or where to grab a late-night snack.
My reflection in a glass door stopped me—there I was, obese and ugly, my waist thick, my legs heavy, my once-delicate features swallowed by puffy cheeks.
Staring at my nearly 200-pound body, it hit me.
Ethan must have been suffering for a long time.
He probably found me disgusting.
He had always called me "cute chubby" when we were together, and I had happily believed him, blissfully unaware.
I had failed to analyze our relationship with my business mindset.
During our time together, his monthly allowance alone was tens of thousands, not to mention the luxury watches, clothes, and gifts I'd bought him.
It all added up to millions.
Compared to his old job, washing dishes for less than 2,000 dollars a month, being with me gave him a 20-year head start.
Now I understood. The only reason he hadn't dumped me was that I was still useful.