Chapter 2

Dashiell was the top celebrity in the entertainment industry, with nearly perfect body proportions and appearance. I was just an ordinary girl from a family with a small business, a modest fan who quietly bought his albums and supported him online. I never dared to dream that one day our paths would cross.

This star-chasing continued until New Year's when I was twenty-three. I returned home for the holiday as usual. But instead of my parents, I found Dashiell sitting there with an apologetic expression.

My parents had been in a car accident. It was Dashiell's car.

Fearing for his reputation, he wanted to settle privately. He happened to see the posters of him plastered all over my room. He glanced at me coolly:

"I'll take care of you for life."

From then on, he really did bring me into his life, entrusting me to his parents' care and arranging the most comfortable job for me.

I spent two years in a daze, grieving the sudden loss of my parents. Then one night, a drunk Dashiell pushed me against the wall and kissed me uncontrollably. In that moment, I realized my love for him had reached its peak.

Night, idol, kiss.

A scene I'd never dared to even dream of.Later, when he was pressured by his parents to get married, I naively took my single-person household registration and married the superstar I had secretly loved throughout my youth.

But marriage was far from the blissful dream I had imagined.

He treated me with gentle care, yet never touched me; he remembered my likes and tastes, but never brought me out in public; he was willing to spend money on me, but forbade me from touching anything of his in the house.

It was then that I realized. The renowned Dashiell had a pure love who went abroad to study, someone he loved but couldn't have. Marrying me was just to appease his parents, and I was perfect to manipulate since I had no family.

The last time he got angry was when I used the thermos in the cabinet to cook. Dashiell, his eyes blood-red, pushed me into a corner, stripped off my clothes, and thrust his hips violently over and over, clamping my mouth shut:

"How have you become so disobedient too?"

And just like that, our first time together was over in a flash.

The next day, he came home early, unusually bringing me a huge bouquet of roses:

"I'm sorry, yesterday was my alter ego. I couldn't control myself and went crazy."

"As long as you're obedient like before, I'll always treat you as my wife."

Thinking about this, tears had already soaked my cheeks.My thoughts were pulled back by the ringing of the phone.

"Olyvia, I've arranged for your discharge. The family driver is waiting for you downstairs at the hospital. Be careful on your way home and don't catch a cold."

"I miss your cooking."

The call ended, and I remained in a daze for a long time.

The IV drip above my head made a steady ticking sound. I clutched my hollow heart, silently laughing bitterly to myself:

This must be the last time I forgive.

I slowly shuffled towards the door, eight months pregnant, unconsciously moving my legs in a way I couldn't quite shake.

The water in the pond was refreshed and new. Everything in this mansion seemed unchanged, as if nothing was different despite my child being gone.

The living room was filled with laughter and chatter, very lively. Dashiell sat in the middle, happily singing, his eyes full of joy.

It seemed like it had been a long time since I'd seen him this happy.

After a moment's hesitation, I pushed open the door.

The merriment in the room came to an abrupt halt the instant I opened the door. Many famous faces from the entertainment industry turned to look at me in unison.

"Dashiell, you're such a beast! Is this the housekeeper you said cooks so well? You hired a pregnant woman as a housekeeper? Today, I want to taste just how good her cooking really is."I nervously clutched the hem of my shirt, instinctively looking towards Dashiell. The moment our eyes met in the air, I couldn't help but tremble.

Dashiell strode over to me in a few quick steps, angrily glancing at the man on the couch:

"Be polite."

He didn't deny what the man had said, nor did he explain my relationship to him. He just hurriedly pushed me into the kitchen.

Closing the door, he leaned down to kiss my forehead. Seeing me dazed, he then grabbed the thermos from the cabinet and thrust it into my arms.

"Thanks for making dinner tonight. I've transferred some money to your account."

"Make a bit extra, and put the best in the thermos. I'm taking it to—"

I looked up into his eyes. The man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then smiled: "A friend."

Though I had expected it, my heart still ached repeatedly.

There was no one else he cared about so much, except for Iris.