Chapter 2

I waited for Daniel to refute her.

Six years ago, Starlight Entertainment was on the brink of bankruptcy. I had poured in my mother's entire inheritance and pulled all-nighters for three days and nights writing three screenplays, just to rescue him from the brink of ruin.

He swore in front of all the shareholders: "Maya Linwood's talent is the soul of Starlight. Anyone who dares to question her, questions my very existence."

The local media had labeled him "the doting husband."

He would remember.

But the next second, I heard Daniel say, in a voice I had never heard before, tender to the core:

"Of course. You're unpolished jade, a natural talent, a born genius who doesn't even have to try. Maya... she's just a mature, excellent craftswoman. You're different."

Craftswoman.

Ha.

Ten years of my hard work, in his eyes, I was just an artisan drawing blueprints and hammering nails.

My heart felt like an invisible hand had clamped down on it, then thrown it into an ice bath. The pain was so intense my vision blurred.

Scarlett, emboldened, buried her face in his chest, her voice laced with a sob: "Daniel, I'm so scared… I'm scared that one day Maya will dislike me, will think I'm stealing your attention, and then she'll drive me away…"

Daniel patted her back, his voice soothing: "Silly girl, with me here, no one can touch you. Starlight will always be your rock."

Always Scarlett's rock?

I forced a smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Daniel probably forgot that Starlight Entertainment was founded on my blood, sweat, and talent.

Without me, he wouldn't be where he was today.

The last flicker of warmth in my eyes died out, like a candle flame extinguished by a cold wind, leaving only a wisp of smoke.

I didn't cry, nor did I make a scene.

I just quietly, step by step, turned and walked down the stairs.

"Mrs. Linwood, you're back." Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, looked surprised to see me.

"Mm."

I didn't stop. I knew that the "devoted" pair upstairs had already heard me.

Good.

I'd wait for them in the living room downstairs.

I had no interest in watching them scramble to get dressed.

I simply turned on the living room's home theater system, connected to the cloud server, and pulled up the past two months of indoor surveillance footage.

When I wasn't home, Scarlett acted like the lady of the house.

Drinking from my cups.

Wearing my slippers.

Even sitting in my exclusive creative studio, on my chair, ordering Daniel to peel her fruit.

And Daniel, the man who was so attentive to me outside the house, didn’t refuse her at all; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

On the monitor, Scarlett pointed at my award-winning interview on the TV, pouting to Daniel: "Daniel, look how amazing Maya is. When will I be as great as her, so you'll only have eyes for me?"

Daniel turned off the TV, pulled her into his embrace, and whispered, "You don't need to be like her. Just be yourself, that's enough."

I watched it all, expressionless.

My heart was a barren wasteland.

I even saw how Scarlett subtly manipulated my five-year-old son, Leo.

She'd hand him cheap toys and say, "See, Aunt Scarlett bought these for you. Your mommy only works; she doesn't even know what you like."

She'd also point towards my study, asking with feigned innocence, "Leo, does Mommy not like Daddy playing with you? She's always alone in her room, it's so strange, isn't it?"

And Daniel? He just watched from the side, silent, implicitly condoning it.

An icy dread snaked up my spine, chilling me to the bone.