I Kiss You Like She Did When You Miss Her

The third time Russell Rowlett shattered a Limoges porcelain plate, the flying shards left several cuts on my face.

He said coldly, “Your breathing is off by two beats! She wouldn’t tremble like you!”

In the basement theater, a Hollywood film starring his first love was playing on a loop.

The Oscarwinning actress, whose features bore a seventypercent resemblance to mine, had ruthlessly abandoned Russell two years ago. Since then, I have become her substitute.

“Again! Hit me! I told you! Hit me!”

“Mr. Rowlett, I… I wouldn't dare.”

“You’re still not her! Keep practicing! Until your acting is exactly like hers!”

“OOkay.”

“And no dinner. She’s been on a diet for years. You should be too!”

A onetoone replica. Bernadette Deschanel lived in dazzling brilliance while I existed in the shadows, as insignificant as an ant.

——

Russell hired a new acting coach for me—oneon/one private lessons, at an exorbitant price. But I knew the real reason—because that woman was using the same coach. Technically, it was a oneontwo.

“Between me and her, who’s the better actress?” I asked.

The coach hesitated. “Miss Tytler, you’ve never had a public film or television appearance, so it’s hard to compare.”

Right. I, Merylle Tytler, had only ever performed for one audience—Russell.

Russell—the billionaire CEO. Ever since the actress dumped him, his ego had been deeply wounded, and he’d grown more and more twisted.

Two years ago, he announced plans for a major international film and held auditions in over a dozen states. Out of tens of thousands, I was the one he chose.

I thought I was about to go from rags to riches, but instead of starring in a film, I became his wellkept canary in a gilded cage.

Being pampered in captivity would’ve been one thing, but God knows what kind of hell I was actually living!

Two years by his side, acting every single day. My skills had improved so much I could probably win an award.

Whenever the actress starred in a new film, Russell would make me reenact her performance at home. If I didn’t do it well, there would be consequences. I was nothing more than his hopeless, pathetic standin.

And that actress was a careerobsessed workaholic! She was already getting older, yet she still kept filming one project after another. Hadn’t she made enough money? Couldn’t she just settle down with her billionaire CEO?

To make things worse, the film industry had been struggling this year, so she switched to starring in web series.

If it were a film, it’d be just about two or three hours long, and her screentime would be at most a third of that. I could still squeeze in a manicure or skincare session while memorizing her scenes.

But web series? They ran for six to 13 episodes per season! Just studying her latest role had already consumed all my free time!

Thinking about that now, I hadn’t stepped outside in ages!

No matter how busy Russell was, he always came home for dinner. People said he couldn’t bear to be apart from me, but I knew the truth—he just enjoyed tormenting me.

Bernadette's latest role was a housewife who displayed exceptional cooking skills in the series. So, of course, he demanded that I cook just as well.

But I couldn’t cook! And it wasn’t just any cooking—it had to be toptier Italian cuisine!

I protested, “The food in the series was fake! She didn’t actually cook it!”

But he wasn’t having it. That very night, he hired a Michelinstarred chef from Italy to train me!

I pulled three allnighters and finally managed to create a meticulously plated molecular gastronomy dish featuring raw beef. It no longer even looked like beef—after all, the essence of molecular cuisine was breaking everything down to the molecular level.

“Perfect. This is the exact taste!”

Internally, I was beyond speechless. ‘You’ve never even tasted it! How the hell do you know it’s the exact taste?!’

That day, Russell wolfed down the whole plate of food and almost teared up.

Of course, my cooking skills were not to be trusted. The next day, he had severe diarrhea and missed an important meeting in London with major investors.

He completely lost it, saying that if it were the Best Actress, she would’ve handled the ingredients properly—because in her series, her onscreen husband ate the dish she made and was totally fine the next day. He sighed, saying, “Man, being the Best Actress’s husband must be a blessing.”

I imitated the Best Actress’s character, whimpering like a wronged little wife, staying silent while he threw dishes around.

By the time Russell smashed his third Limoges porcelain plate, shards flew up and left a few cuts on my face.

He stared at me coldly and said, “Your breathing’s off by two beats! She wouldn’t tremble like you. Even her fear? It has a quiet resilience to it!”

But in that series, the Best Actress played a pathetic housewife working as a chef in her husband’s restaurant, only to find out he was cheating with a young server. She confronted the mistress in front of the customers but got slapped hard by her husband. Heartbroken, she walked alone through the pouring rain and eventually met her true love. That’s how her story began…

Russell was cruel. He slapped me too.

“You’re such an ungrateful woman! Not only are you useless to my career, but you’re also dragging me down!”

Honestly, he should’ve been the one teaching acting classes.

My cheek burned with pain. The next day, when I went for a facial, the beautician asked about the red handprint on the left side of my face. I just laughed it off. “Just some bedroom fun with Mr. Rowlett.”

‘Bullshit!’

Sure, Russell bought me a designer bag worth over 30,000 dollars to make up for it, but I still felt miserable. How much longer do I have to live like this?

My contract was in his hands for a full ten years. Breaking it early meant paying a huge penalty, and the agreement even required me to earn a certain amount every month. I relied on the salary he gave me just to meet the contract’s terms.

“Mrs. Dunst took an emergency leave today, so no one made dinner at home.” That night, I stood humbly at the door, welcoming him back.

Lately, the Best Actress had been playing a careerdriven woman who prioritized work over family, so Russell stopped forcing me to cook.

But his temper was just as bad. “Can’t you study her expressions and movements properly? She’s not playing a timid woman anymore. This month’s salary is gone.”

Oh, come on, Russell. You were the one who told me to act like her!

I slapped him—hard. A thunderous slap!

His face hurt. My hand hurt.

I demanded, “What’s your problem? If Mrs. Dunst wasn’t coming today, you should’ve told me earlier! What, you expect both of us to starve now?”

To my surprise, Russell’s expression shifted. He licked the slightly swollen corner of his lip, eyes turning sharp. “Hit me again.”

I froze. No way.

But he insisted, “I said, hit me again! Merylle, show me how much you’re like her! No, you are her!”

Gosh, he was insane!

I raised my hand high as he said…

But I hesitated.

I knew what kind of person Russell was. When he got into character, he really got into it. But once he snapped out of it, he’d settle scores with me.

So I wavered.

“Forget it,” he sneered. “You’ll never be her. Next month’s salary? It’s gone too.”

“What am I supposed to eat next month?”

“I already told you—I’ll cover your basic food and housing.”

“Then… can I sell the bag you bought me for money?”

“That bag was for her. Not for you! You can use it for now. But once she comes back, you’ll return it to her.”

“Hah, she’s willing to settle for my secondhand stuff?”

“Merylle, watch your mouth.”

Russell had already snapped out of character, back to his usual untouchable CEO persona. It had taken me a long time to figure out his rhythm and know when he’d switch like this.

“Sorry, Mr. Rowlett,” I said, knowing better than to push it.

“I have a dinner meeting tonight. Stay home.”

“What am I supposed to eat?”

“Actresses have to diet. She’s starving herself—why can’t you? Skipping one meal won’t kill you, you know. She never eats dinner, but she’s still alive.”

“She needs to stay cameraready to make money. What about me? Am I shooting a film? Do I need to starve?”

Russell scoffed. “Who do you think you are to compare yourself with her?”

As expected, he left me home alone in the end. But what I didn’t get was—if he had a dinner meeting, why not just call or text? Why did he have to come all the way home just to tell me in person before heading out?

Russell… Mr. Rowlett… must have been so traumatized by women that he’s lost his mind.

I’d known about the rumors between him and the Oscarwinning actress years ago, back when they were all over the trending searches. That was when I had just gotten into one of the country’s topperforming arts schools, dreaming of becoming an actress. She had graduated from the same school, so back then, I used to look up to her.

But now, all I felt toward her was hatred.

I hated that I looked like a younger version of her. I hated that I ever attended Russell’s casting call. And more than anything, I hated that I didn’t have enough money to buy my way out of this nightmare.

Actually, no—lately, I did have some promising opportunities. Thanks to accompanying Russell to business dinners, I’d met quite a few promising young elites. They weren’t as rich as Russell, but paying my contract termination fee wouldn’t be a problem for them.

The only issue was my reputation. Everyone thought I was Russell’s wife. But Mr. PureandChaste CEO had never actually touched me—just some handholding and kissing at most.

I knew exactly what was going through his head. He was staying ‘faithful’ to that actress, his one true love.

He wasn’t afraid of me finding someone else. For one, he was confident in his status—no one dared to mess with what belonged to him. And two, he knew those rich playboys were only interested in a good time. When it came to actually spending a fortune on me, they’d all back out.

But they had no idea who they were dealing with. My acting skills were toptier—I just never got the chance to debut.

Russell had trained me well. It was time to put those skills to use.

With Duke Wellington, I played the delicate damsel. With Lord Sinclair, I became a cold and commanding queen. With Mr. Harrington, I acted like the perfect devoted daughter. If each of them pitched in ten million, I’d have more than enough to buy my freedom!

My plan was already in motion. And when Russell finally realized I was gone, I’d stomp on his face in skyhigh heels and make him badmouth his beloved actress a thousand times over.

He once said his ‘pure first love’ was untouchable—not even by himself.

That would be his worst nightmare.

That night, Russell came home drunk.

I was lying on my bed, starving, unable to sleep.

He must have opened the wrong door because he stumbled into my room.

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, reeking of alcohol.

Then, in a drunken murmur, he whispered her name.

“Why did you leave me? Is your career really that important? Isn’t it just about money? I could give you that—I could give you myself. And that thing… honestly, I already…”

I struggled to break free, but it was no use. His grip was too strong.

If I were the real leading actress, having a man like Russell thinking about me day and night, I’d probably be moved to tears.

Unfortunately, I’m just her standin. Every heartfelt word he says feels like a sharp needle piercing my heart.

Yep, I love Russell—or rather, I used to love him.

When he skipped an important board meeting because I was sick, when he planned a special trip abroad just for my birthday, when he ignored highclass women just to make my jealous self feel better…

He remembered all my preferences, but was all that affection really meant for me?

I was trapped, lost in my own confusion…

Until one night, just like tonight, he got drunk. And the only name he called out was Bernadette’s.

That was when I finally woke up—his love was never for me. I was nothing more than a substitute.

They say drunken words are sober thoughts. He only ever admitted the truth when he was wasted—he saw her through me.

And yes, there’s another reason I hate that woman. Because Russell doesn’t love me. He loves her.

When his hands started wandering, I pushed him away with all my strength. “You’re drunk.”

“Merylle, be good. Don’t move. Just let me hold you for a bit.”

‘Hold me? That’s what you call this? You’re clearly…’

His warm breath brushed against the back of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“If you keep moving, I can’t promise what I’ll do next.”

“Russell, if you really wanted to, you would’ve done it already. Would you really wait until now?”

“Heh, you’re really acting like her now. Talking back to me?”

The corners of my mouth twitched. ‘So there’s always going to be someone between us, huh?’

“Merylle, just sleep. I won’t touch you.”

“Fine.”

But moments later, he turned me over and kissed me.

‘So this is what you call ‘not touching me’? You were just waiting for the right moment, weren’t you?’

His lips were cold. He didn’t notice the tear slipping from the corner of my eye—just as cold as he was.

With his eyes closed, he looked like he was completely lost in it. He must be picturing her right now, right?

‘Russell, I want to get back at you. I want to use everything I have.’

If you wake up tomorrow and realize you spent the night with a standin, how would you feel? Could you still face your precious first love?

I kissed him back passionately, trying to stir up the deepest desires buried inside him…

But then he suddenly shoved me away, hard, and called out her name.

“Damn… I’m not that drunk. Don’t even think about taking advantage of me.”

I coaxed him, “It’s me. Don’t you want me?”

Russell let out a chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Then he yanked the blanket over my head, cutting me off from the world. Muffled from beneath the covers, I barely caught his voice.

“Go to sleep. Stop messing around.”

The next morning, I opened my eyes. Russell was long gone from my bed. He must’ve gone back to his own room in the middle of the night.

That’s just how he is—calculating in business, always scheming. His mind is restless, his insomnia chronic. Sleeping somewhere unfamiliar just makes it worse.

“Where is he?” I asked while eating my breakfast—cabbage, bacon, and cheese egg pancakes, specially prepared by Mrs. Dunst, the housekeeper.

Of course, this was Russell’s doing too. I was only allowed to eat lowcarb meals to maintain the figure of a Hollywood star.

Speaking of which, I can’t help but complain.

That Best Actress has everything going for her, but she refuses to look ugly. Even when playing a poor smalltown woman, she has to keep that hourglass figure intact. She wouldn’t gain a single pound for a role, which is why some people criticize her for being too imageconscious and unrealistic.

But she has her reasons. As she gets older, her metabolism slows down. If she puts on weight, what if she can’t lose it again?

I respect her discipline. But it’s also my suffering.

I actually haven’t touched junk food in ages!

If someone waved a roasted chicken leg in front of me right now, I’d probably do anything for them.

“Sir Russell went out for a run,” Mrs. Dunst said, handing me a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

“He’s not going to the office today?”

“No, ma’am, he said he’s giving himself a day off.”

“What?!” I was so shocked that my pancake slipped from my hand onto the table.

Mrs. Dunst quickly came over to clean up. “It’s okay, ma’am. I’ll make you another one.”

Internally, I was screaming. I was crying!

Russell skipping work… Did that mean he planned to stay home with me all day? His day off was my bad luck!

Mrs. Dunst had no idea how much I was suffering and even made it worse. “Sir Russell really cares about you, ma’am. He asked me what you’ve been up to here lately, and I told him you’ve been watching romance films. He even asked which one, and when I said it was the one starring Miss Bernadette, he was really happy and said he’d watch it with you.”

Oh, god, I could just die!

I was watching those films because the Best Actress was in them—I had to constantly study her acting, not because the films themselves were good!

And who asked him to join me? He should go make money instead!

I knew exactly why he was so pleased. He was happy that I was fully immersing myself in the craft, training myself to be just like Bernadette. He must feel so accomplished, turning me into the perfect obedient actress.

Just then, Russell walked in. “You’re up?”

I swallowed my frustration. “Yeah.”

“I’m cooking tonight. Sherman and the others are coming over.”

My right eyelid twitched.

Sherman—Russell’s business partner and childhood friend. A clueless rich secondgen who basically just follows Russell’s lead in everything. If Russell says east, Sherman wouldn’t dare go west. Not that it matters, since Russell’s investments always pay off.

“Oh? That’s sudden.”

“Yeah, he said it’s been a while. He’s bringing his new girlfriend too.”

I smiled faintly. Another one. Rich boys either play with cars or women—at least those two are manageable. It’s when they get into worse things that it becomes a real problem.

I glanced at Russell wiping sweat off his face with a towel. He’s in his 30s, but his body is way better maintained than most men his age—broad chest, abs, the whole package. How many women must be throwing themselves at him? If he had a normal relationship, his kid could probably be running around by now.

But he has no idea what’s coming tonight.

I remembered the way Sherman looked at me at the last gathering. No doubt about it—men are men; they want food and sex. And Sherman? He was definitely thinking something he shouldn’t. He never made a move, though—partly because I never gave him the signal, and partly because he’s still a little afraid of Russell.

Tonight would be my chance. If I played my role right and appeared exactly how Sherman liked, he could be another stepping stone in my escape plan.

Yeah, I had to make this happen.

And I couldn’t let Russell suspect a thing. I can't let him know about my escape plan at all!

“What are you thinking about?”

I snapped out of it. “Oh, nothing. You’re cooking, so what should I do?”

“Eat. What else?”

“Isn’t that a bad idea? I need to lose weight.”

Mrs. Dunst handed me another steaming cabbage, bacon, and cheese pancake. I was already sick of this kind of breakfast, but I forced myself to take a bite.

“It’s fine. If I say you can eat, then eat.”

That was always how it was with Russell. His word was law. My will had to revolve around his.

“See, ma’am?” Mrs. Dunst beamed. “Sir Russell is so thoughtful. He knows how hard your diet is.”

I gave her a pitiful look. Was this diet my choice? No, it was her boss who forced it on me. He made sure my weight never exceeded the Best Actress’s by more than a pound.

Russell chuckled. “Tonight, you can eat back everything you lost this month.”

I stared at Russell in disbelief. “You’re setting me up again! In a few days, you’ll definitely question me—why can the Oscarwinning actress be so disciplined, but I can’t resist temptation?”

I put down my egg pancake and cautiously walked over to him. “Are you serious or just messing with me?”

Russell replied, “I can’t exactly mistreat you in front of Sherman, an outsider, now, can I?”

Of course. The cunning old fox always has to keep up his gentlemanly image in front of others. So he does know he's mistreating me, huh?

I turned to leave, but suddenly, Russell wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Too skinny. Doesn’t feel good to hold.”

Mrs. Dunst, seeing this, awkwardly turned away. “Um… sir, ma’am, the romance film is ready. Would you like to watch it now in the basement theater?”

Russell answered casually, “Sure.”

Then he leaned in and whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Time to level up your acting skills.”

I pulled his hands away uncomfortably. “Do I get a bonus for a good performance?”

Russell gave me a knowing look. “I remember she once played a Republicanera spy, seducing enemies in a dimly lit theater.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not expecting me to seduce you, are you?”

“Hmm. Try it. If you succeed, there’s a reward.”

He must have watched that actress’s films over and over to be able to quote her lines even before she said them.

In the dark glow of the projector, I sneaked a glance at his expression. For the past two years, he had always looked at her this way—with deep admiration.

Whether in films or trending topics on his phone, as long as it was about her, his eyes never strayed.

“How long do I have to wait for you to start?”

His tone was laced with impatience. “I told you, act like her. The film has a 20minute stretch without her—use that time to give me your performance.”

I had my pride. “Can I not? I’m not feeling well today.”

Since breakfast, my lower belly has been aching faintly. It must be… that time of the month.

“Not feeling well? Where?” His voice was cold, completely devoid of concern.

“I… um… my period.”

Russell let out a mocking laugh. “In the dead of winter, when it was minus five degrees, she still managed to film underwater scenes during her period. And you? I ask you to act a simple indoor scene, and you refuse because of cramps? Merylle, you’re making money way too easily. You’re not even worth a fraction of her.”

With that, he yanked me up angrily and grabbed my throat, roaring, “Act! Right now! And don’t stop until I’m satisfied!”

The grip on my throat tightened. Panic and suffocation consumed my mind. For a moment, I had no idea how to act.

He loosened his grip slightly and shouted, “Speak!”

My icy fingers gripped his wrist tightly. Then, forcing down the nausea rising in me, I delivered my line—seductive, just like she would.

“Sir, are you always this ruthless to women?”

I was mimicking her dialogue, adding a teasing lilt to my tone.

“Yeah. So what?”

“If you’re going to get rough, I’d rather it be in the bedroom.”

“Oh?” Russell released me. I staggered back, coughing violently.

His turn to get into character.

“Or,” I smirked, yanking at his collar, “we could do it right here.”

“What do you want? I’ll follow your lead.” Russell smiled, spreading his arms as if waiting for my embrace.

I leaned in, close enough that our lips almost touched, but I didn’t kiss him. Instead, I murmured in the most sultry tone I could muster.

“I want to be yours.”

Russell’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes grew even more dazed with emotion as he wrapped me tightly in his arms. “Yes, this emotion… You really are just like her.”

Maybe from this angle, with this level of acting, I was a 99% match to his first love.

I chanted silently in my head, ‘In your next life, Russell, you and that woman better go straight to hell!’

Once again, Russell kissed me uncontrollably. In between breaths, he even took a moment to praise my coach. “He taught you well. You’ve improved.”

Well, of course. You spent a fortune on it. You made sure the coach drilled into me exactly how to kiss a man like your first love did.

I had zero intention of responding to his kiss, but then he started giving me instructions again. “Move. Bite me.”

Then, he cried, “Ah!”

“You told me to,” I said.

“Yeah, just like that! She was just as ruthless.” The expression on his face was one of pure satisfaction.

Just as he was getting lost in the romance of his ‘first love,’ the housekeeper outside the door interrupted at the worst possible moment. “Sir, would you like some dessert?” she asked tentatively.

Russell barely pulled away from my lips. “No need.”

Then, looking straight at me, he smirked. “You’re my dessert. Kiss me. Keep going.”

Something was off with him today. Normally, the moment things got even a little physical, he’d stop before it went too far. Even if he was at his limit, he’d step away and take a cold shower.

And it’s not like he can’t tell me apart from her—he always knows exactly when to draw the line.

But today, he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. His palm pressed against my belly, and oddly enough, it felt warm.

In a low voice, he murmured, “Your period started?”

Usually, on the first day of my period, I’d be in pain for half a day before any blood actually showed. Russell knew my cycle too well—there was no fooling him.

“Just starting to hurt,” I said.

“Good. Then we can continue.”

“Continue what?”

Before I could protest, he silenced me again. Another suffocating nightmare.

Lost in the moment, Russell whispered a line from a film Bernadette once starred in. “That night, I will never forget… Your body heat, the feel of your skin, the way you looked at me…”

His grip on me tightened, arms pulling me closer and harder.

For a second, I thought he might’ve finally changed—maybe he was actually interested in someone other than his precious Best Actress.

Honestly, if he hadn’t reacted so strongly to me a few times before, I would’ve started wondering if he was into men. Because aside from Bernadette, I’d never seen him show the slightest interest in any woman.

For all I know, that Best Actress was just a convenient cover.

Over the years, plenty of socialites and actresses had thrown themselves at him, but he always turned his nose up at them.

Socialites? He thought they weren’t goodlooking enough—too much plastic surgery on their faces.

Actresses? He found them fake, all sweet and delicate online but a whole different person in private.

Like… seriously? What kind of double standard is that? The Best Actress also played a hundred different roles—why wasn’t she “fake”?

And looks? There’s no end to that game. There will always be younger, prettier girls appearing. At the end of the day, it’s about what’s inside.

Those socalled “plain” socialites might not have a face like the Best Actress, but they have money, background, and education.

‘Russell, you want a woman who’s both stunning and smart? You think you can have it all?’

Breathing heavily, he finally let go of me. It was like he was avoiding my gaze.

His voice was tight. “Your health comes first. Forget it.”

For the first time, he was the one who had me blushing and my heart racing.

But the moment I heard those words, my mood plummeted.

‘Dude. You built the mood up this far? When I said no, you wouldn’t stop. But now that I’m actually willing, you just… back off?

‘Are you even a man?’

“Russell, are you even a man?”

Oh, no, I actually said it out loud! How could I blurt out something like that?

The regret hit me instantly.

Russell locked eyes with me, the flush on his face fading fast. “Wow, where did you get the guts to say that?”

I shrank back, too scared to say another word.

I had to be crazy to make this kind of demand. And the worst part? I wasn’t even asking for money—I was asking for him. Forget about how he felt—I couldn’t even accept it myself.

He casually reached out, playing with my messy hair. “So, you want me to be a man? Tell me, what exactly do you want this man to do to you?”

I couldn’t look him in the eyes. He already knew what I was thinking.

When I didn’t answer, his expression suddenly turned cold. “If you’re that desperate for a man, go find one elsewhere. I’m not interested.”

I forced myself to speak. “I’m your woman. And you’re telling me to go find someone else?”

Russell had already turned to leave, but when he heard that, he stopped and stepped back. “My woman?”

“Yeah. Everyone in the business world knows we live together.”

He let out a mocking laugh. “So what? If you sneak around behind my back, I won’t say a word. I’ll just turn a blind eye. Whatever makes you happy.”

Why did that sound like a threat? No, I must be overthinking it. What he really meant was—he didn’t care at all what someone like me did.

“You’d be fine with me running around messing with other men while looking like this?” This was my trump card.

At the very least, I had a face that looked 70% like his dear Best Actress.

Russell laughed even harder, completely unbothered. “You don’t actually think I keep you around just so I can see her face every day, do you?”

“Isn’t that exactly why?”

He chuckled but didn’t bother answering. He just turned and walked away.

Fair enough. A pretty face isn’t enough—you need the acting skills to match. If all he wanted was her face, he wouldn’t be this obsessed.

That said, I’ve never really understood what it is about that actress he loves so much. Probably more than just one thing. Ugh, I really want to meet her!

My whole body felt weak as I collapsed into my seat.

Making sure no one was around, I finally let go and broke down crying. The tears streamed down my face like a broken necklace, completely unstoppable. If there were a camera on me right now, I’d probably look like one of those tragic beauties, heartbreakingly stunning.

Too bad Russell didn’t know—my acting coach always said my crying scenes were my biggest weakness.

“Why do you cry like that? It’s like… you just ate shit.”

“Uh, sir, have you eaten shit before?”

“It’s a metaphor! I mean your crying is horrible. Go look in a mirror and try again.”

“Why should I? I never liked crying even when I was younger. When I run into a problem, I solve it. Crying doesn’t fix anything.”

“That’s not the point. Crying is a weapon, don’t you get it?”

“Is that so?”

“Anyway, you need to work on your crying scenes. A good actor who can cry on command? That’s real talent.”

“Oh.”

“With emotion! Now, get in the zone!”

That Best Actress could cry on cue, tears falling in exactly three seconds, and even control which eye they came from. Meanwhile, if there was even one person around, I couldn’t shed a single tear.

No matter how hard I tried to recall the worst moments of my life—like when my dad passed away in college, or how my mom remarried her first love right after and had a new son, or how Russell had shattered my heart over and over again—none of it worked.

I never thought I’d still be shedding tears for this heartless man.

Do I still love him? No way.

Would he ever love anyone besides that actress?

Maybe—but definitely not me.

I wiped my tears away. At some point, Mrs. Dunst appeared at the door.

“Ma’am, Sir Russell is calling for you.”

“Oh, I’ll be right there.”

“Do you still want to watch the film? Should I pause it here?”

I shot the most venomous glare at the actress on the big screen. She had just witnessed all my humiliation. Even though she wasn’t physically present, her brilliance still managed to cast a shadow over my misery.

“No. Turn it off.”

She looked down at me from above, cold and untouchable, while I remained trapped in some nameless corner, tortured by the man I loved. Whether she had done anything to me personally didn’t matter—I’d be living in her shadow for the rest of my life!

“Mr. Grammer has arrived,” Mrs. Dunst continued, “and he brought his new girlfriend. She—”

She?

I frowned and followed her gaze.

On the big screen, the actress smiled—a breathtaking, charming smile.

Oh my God. Sherman’s girlfriend… is her? The Best Actress?