Chapter 8
Suddenly, my phone started vibrating like crazy. The local gossip groups Maya was in and social media push notifications were blowing up. A video link, forwarded countless times, popped up with a sensational title:
[Exclusive On-Scene Footage! Berenice Harrison's Real Reaction Seeing the Variety News in a Café! Full of Drama! Acting Breakdown!]
My fingers were ice-cold. My heart pounded like a drum, almost bursting out of my chest. Trembling, I clicked on the video.
The video was clearly secretly recorded, the angle hidden but the picture clear. In the background, you could hear the shocked cries of her plastic sisters:
"Berenice! Look! Is this your boyfriend Adrian?! Variety says he's the heir to the Mitchell family! Worth billions!"
In the video, my sister was having afternoon tea with a group of friends. She paused at first, leaning in to look at the phone screen, and then—her face didn't show surprise at all, but immense, undisguised glee and victory.
She screamed, jumped up, her voice cracking with excitement, overriding all the background noise:
"Yes! I knew it! It's finally out! He is Adrian Mitchell! Hollywood's youngest golden boy producer! 'Stellar Edge,' 'Midnight Echo,' 'City Dreamers'—they're all his projects! I figured it out ages ago!"
My heart felt like it was grabbed by an invisible hand and squeezed violently, then instantly crushed, stopping dead.
She could list all of Adrian's representative works and projects in one breath!
She said "I knew it," not "so that's who he is."
She said "figured it out ages ago"!
What does this mean?
It means she knew Adrian's true identity from the very beginning! It means for the past three months, all her "artistic immersion," all her "not materialistic" behavior, all her complaints and endurance, were nothing but a calculated, goal-oriented performance! An investment!
All the puzzles fell into place at this moment!
Why she always seemed to barely tolerate Adrian's "poverty"...
Why she never truly cared about the content of Adrian's scripts...
Why she always complained about not going to fancy restaurants but forced herself to go to galleries and cinemas...
Why she, clearly an influencer style, tried so hard to pose as an artist...
Because she knew from the start that all this "poverty" was a temporary illusion! She was investing, she was placing a bet, she was waiting for this moment of fame and fortune!
"She knew all along!" I suddenly yelled out loud, all the emotions bottled up for weeks finally exploding. Tears poured out, but they were no longer tears of guilt; they were tears of anger and humiliation at being deceived and used.
"She knew Adrian's true identity from the very beginning! For three months, she's been acting the part of a 'simple girl' who doesn't know her boyfriend's identity! She was waiting for this day! The day his identity would be revealed!"
Maya stared at me in shock, then suddenly understood, anger also flashing across her face. "Oh my god... So that's why she could endure those 'poor screenwriter' dates, that's why she forced herself to go to galleries and cinemas! She wasn't dating; she was on a mission! She was waiting for the stock to go public!"
I covered my face, sobbing uncontrollably. But this time, the tears washed away the guilt and stupidity that had blinded me, revealing the cold, hard truth beneath.
"Oh my god... I was wrong! So terribly wrong!" I cried, but my voice grew clearer and firmer with anger.
For three months, I had been living in a self-made dream of atonement.
I thought I was "correcting a mistake." I thought I was enabling my sister's "true love."
I thought that in the past life, I stole my sister's chance, so in this life, I had to give everything back to her.
But in reality...
I was betraying all along! But I wasn't betraying Berenice's false "opportunity".
I was betraying my own heart, I was betraying the genuine understanding and love Adrian might have found! I almost pushed him into the arms of a fraud who only loved his wealth and status!
I slumped over the desk, sobbing my heart out. But this time, the tears weren't just from pain; they were mostly from anger and an unprecedented clarity.
Why did I have to go through this pain of being deceived all over again? Why did I force my eyes shut when I could see the truth?
My phone rang again, the screen lighting up. It was a new email notification.
[Sender: Independent Comic Convention Organizing Committee]
[Subject: Re: Regarding the Invitation to Exhibit "The Dreamers" and Follow-up Collaboration Inquiry]
I stared at the message, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone.
He... his company had formally extended the invitation. Now, knowing his true identity, the weight of this invitation felt completely different.
What did he remember? Could it be... those conversations we once had about art and society? Did he also sense that the person who resonated with his soul might not actually be Berenice?
Who am I? I'm the "naive" little sister of his girlfriend? I'm the one who "stole" Berenice's chance in the past life? But perhaps, what I "stole" was a treasure she never truly wanted and could never deserve?
Should I reply? I looked at the words in the email preview, tears falling drop by drop.
But this time, my fingertips slowly, firmly, moved toward the touchpad.
Next door, Berenice seemed to be on the phone. Her voice came through the door, full of smug satisfaction and undisguised calculation:
"Hey! Did you see the news? Yes! I told you I could handle him!... Don't worry, I won't let that silly little girl ruin things this time..."
Listening to her shrewd, cold, greedy scheming, my heart died completely.
This was her attitude toward Adrian's love—a blatant, goal-oriented transaction.
And I... my feelings for Adrian were ten thousand times more real and profound than hers.
But can I not speak, not act, not express it?
No.
Because the Candice who needed to "atone" had died, along with Berenice's disguise, completely, this morning.
I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, and my gaze fell on the copy of "The Dreamers" on the desk.
The protagonist Maria was running across the page, her eyes determined, breaking free from her shackles, chasing the light in the distance.
Just like me.
"Maya," my voice was hoarse, but it carried a kind of unprecedented calm and power. "I've figured it out. Completely figured it out."
"Figured what out?" Maya asked, looking at me with worry and anticipation.
"I've been blaming myself for a 'mistake' that was never mine to bear," I said, looking at the email on the computer screen and pressing the "Reply" button.
"The real mistake is using lies instead of sincerity from the very beginning."