The Abandoned Lover

1

During the years I was Shane's lover, he spoiled me into becoming an actress with no talent or skill, relying solely on the opportunities he provided.

Then, just when I was at the peak of my success, he broke up with me.

After leaving him, I had to start from scratch, honing my craft from minor roles, slowly reclaiming the acting lessons I had neglected.

Three years later, I ran into Shane again at an audition. His current girlfriend was competing with me for the same role.

He cornered me in the dressing room and said, "Give up the role.

Name your price."

I grabbed his tie, left a bold lipstick mark on his shirt collar, and smiled coyly, "Spend a night with me, and I'll make sure your fiancée gets her wish."

When I first met Shane, I was just a small-time actress taking on minor roles in film productions.

Despite having formal training, I had no money or connections and was always just a backdrop for others.

The director had finally given me a fourth female lead, but it was taken by an actress who had spent the night in his room, leaving me to play her maid.

"Ashlyn, I told you, as long as you're willing, the role is yours," the director said, exhaling smoke rings into my face with a confident smile.

I discreetly avoided his hand creeping onto my shoulder and forced a smile, "Director, I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend."

"Who?

Ashlyn, don't lie to me..."

His hand reached out again, his gaze growing more suggestive.

In a panic, I pointed to a man passing by in the corridor, "Him!

He's my boyfriend!"

The man paused, looked over, and I realized the stranger I had randomly pointed to had sharp eyes and a chiseled face.

I ran over, hooked my arm through his, and smiled at the director, "Mr. Hall, this is my boyfriend."

"Mr. Stanley?"

The director's surprised voice reached my ears.

I froze for two seconds, suddenly remembering that one of the investors in our production was indeed named Stanley.

Shane Stanley.

The man was tall, and even in heels, I had to look up at him.

At that moment, he lowered his eyes, glanced at my face, then looked back at the director.

"You can leave now."

He had tacitly agreed with my words.

The director's face turned pale, and he apologized politely before leaving.

Shane tugged at the corners of his lips, "He's gone. You can let go now."

For some reason, I detected a hint of nonchalant mockery in his tone. My hand, which was about to release, paused in mid-air and instead tightened its grip.

Shane frowned, and I smiled sweetly, "Why not give it a try, Mr. Stanley?

Turn this act into reality?"

I didn't really intend to get involved with Shane; I just didn't like his tone and wanted to annoy him a little.

But I didn't expect that later that night, Shane's assistant delivered a room card to me.

"The presidential suite on the top floor-Sweetie, Mr. Stanley has taken a liking to you.

You've struck gold!"

My previously indifferent agent's eyes lit up, enthusiastically briefing me about Shane.

Essentially, he was wealthy, young, handsome, a top investor in the industry, and the target of many who wanted to rise to the top.

As I stood at the door with the room card, I recalled the scene of meeting Shane earlier that day.

Those eyes that seemed aloof and untouched by earthly concerns.

But if they were to be tainted with the dark hues of desire... they would surely be delicious, wouldn't they?

When I pushed the door open, Shane was sitting by the window, tapping away at his laptop.

His hair was still dripping, likely from a recent shower, yet he was impeccably dressed in a shirt and trousers, every button fastened, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

He looked like a gentleman with a wicked edge.

I scoffed inwardly and walked over, softly calling out, "Mr. Stanley."

Shane paused his movements and looked up.

His sharp gaze pierced through the lenses, landing on me, and his pupils gradually darkened with desire.

I knew why, of course.

Before coming, my agent had somehow procured a sheer slip dress for me, made of fabric as thin as a cicada's wings, barely concealing anything.

I had wrapped myself in a coat on the way up, which I casually discarded upon entering.

Shane scrutinized me for a while, then suddenly smiled, "Weren't you the one who refused to yield to Derek?

Why come to me willingly?"

I raised an eyebrow, took two steps forward, and dramatically fell into Shane's arms.

I was gambling.

Gambling that he would catch me.

Shane pushed aside his laptop, reached out, and pulled me into his embrace.

It was an intensely intimate position.

Through the thin fabric, his warm fingertips brushed against the skin of my waist, gently caressing it.

Shane chuckled ambiguously, "Miss Wallace, your acting just now wasn't very convincing."

"I did it on purpose."

I smiled, my eyes curving, and leaned closer to his ear, whispering seductively, "I agreed to Mr. Stanley because you're much more handsome than him."

The light in Shane's eyes dimmed.

Then he carried me to the bed, leaning down to kiss me.

After that night, the entire crew knew I was Shane's officially recognized girlfriend.

The second female lead, which had been undecided, was promptly given to me without even an audition.

In many ways, Shane was the perfect lover.

He was single, handsome, and wealthy.

Although eight years older than me, he was fit from regular exercise, had great stamina, and was considerate.

Most importantly, Shane could provide me with top-tier opportunities that I wouldn't have achieved even after a decade of playing minor roles.

Three months into our relationship, I landed two major endorsements.

After finishing one film, I breezed through an audition for the next and secured the lead role.

In return, I needed to act as Shane's charming and compliant girlfriend in public and be available whenever he needed me.

Initially, it was hotel suites near the set. Over time, he bought a luxury apartment in the city center and had me move in.

If he was free in the evenings, he would almost always come to stay with me.

Dominic, his assistant, told me I was the only woman in Shane's life.

It was a perfect transactional relationship.

If only I hadn't fallen for him.

2

I realized I had feelings for Shane because of a small incident.

One night, his assistant called, saying Shane was drunk and wanted to see me, asking me to drive over to pick him up.

When Shane was drunk, he lost his usual calm demeanor, leaning against the passenger seat with his hand on his forehead. After a moment of silence, he suddenly said, "Ashlyn."

"...Mr. Stanley."

He chuckled softly, his voice as deep and resonant as a cello, "Ashlyn, why did you come dressed like that?"

Only then did I realize, in my rush to leave, I had only managed to change out of my slippers, still wearing my pajamas with my hair in disarray.

He didn't seem to expect an answer, reaching out to tousle my hair, "This is just fine.

If I get drunk again, you should come pick me up."

Again.

That word struck me.

From college until now, I had been in many relationships, mostly transactional, seeking the love I never received in the first eighteen years of my life, never daring to truly give my heart.

This was the first time I found someone I wanted to include in my otherwise uncertain future.

But I also knew clearly.

Shane and I had no future.

As a competent lover, I asked Shane for money, cars, and jewelry but never pried into his personal life, playing the role of a pampered trophy.

He indulged me, fulfilling any reasonable request. I didn't even need to hone my acting skills to get any role or endorsement I wanted.

In this way, Shane spent three years turning me into an actress with neither talent nor skill, reliant solely on his resources.

The haters often said, "Ashlyn, is she really classically trained?

Did she learn how to please men in school?"

But soon, I wouldn't even have the chance to "please men."

That afternoon, Shane couldn't visit the set due to other commitments, so he sent a driver to take me to the hotel.

After arriving at the hotel room, I dutifully showered and emerged in a sheer slip dress, only to find Shane fully dressed in a suit and tie, waiting by the bed.

Shane looked at me calmly. "Ashlyn, let's end this."

End it.

He didn't even use the word "break up."

I slowly clasped my hands behind me, carefully observing Shane.

His gaze was calm and indifferent, showing no reaction even when faced with me dressed like this.

It was as if the person who once shared passionate moments with me was someone else entirely.

I lowered my eyelashes, staying silent for a moment. When I looked at him again, I wore my usual perfect smile.

"Alright, Mr. Shane."

Shane nodded slightly, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he turned and left in silence.

Perhaps he feared that saying more would lead to endless entanglements from me.

I stood alone in the large room for a while before slowly bringing my hands to the front.

The nails I had done yesterday were polished to a glossy finish, painted in a beautiful pearl white, and adorned with glitter.

They were meant for an event two days later, but now they were all chipped, leaving four bloody nail marks on my palm.

It's true what they say, heartbreak can be felt in every part of your body.

In the entertainment industry, news travels fast.

After Shane and I broke up, the resources that once came to me because of him evaporated quickly.

The lead role in the new drama went to someone else, the endorsements I had negotiated vanished, and even the event in two days canceled my spot, citing a lack of space.

In just half a month, I went from being a top-tier resource darling to having zero exposure, reduced to competing with newcomers for minor roles.

Previously, because of Shane, even if my acting was poor, directors treated me well.

But now, any unsatisfactory scene would result in me being scolded harshly.

The acting lessons I had neglected in the past were slowly being picked up again through daily practice.

Along with them came the resentment towards Shane after the love faded.

He had lifted me to great heights only to step away and watch me fall.

And I didn't even know why.

For three years, this question became my inner demon, keeping me awake many nights, wondering why?

Why did he suddenly leave three years ago?

But now, I no longer want to know.

By then, I had clawed my way back to the top on my own, competing with Shane's new girlfriend, Bethany, for the same role.

All signs pointed to the director favoring me.

Shane approached me, cornering me in the makeup room on set. "Give up the role. Name your price."

As I tugged on his tie and leaned in, only one clear thought surfaced in my mind-I want to be the one to walk away this time.

The next morning, I woke up in a hotel bed.

Shane was sleeping soundly beside me.

The past three years had left almost no trace on his face; even in sleep, his features remained as handsome and chiseled as a sculpture.

I jumped out of bed, rummaging through the clothes scattered on the floor to find my phone, only to discover that my Whatsapp was flooded with messages.

My manager, Olivia, had sent a string of messages: "Ashlyn, did you get back together with Shane?"

"You even went straight to a hotel??"

"Do you know you were photographed entering a hotel with Shane?

Come to the office immediately!"

I glanced at Twitter; the trending topics hadn't exploded yet, suggesting the photographer wasn't planning to expose the photos directly-they wanted money.

That was good; it meant I had more leverage.

I stood there for a moment, legs sore, and when I turned around, I met a pair of calm eyes.

Slightly startled, I sat on the nearby sofa, crossing my bare legs and smiling.

"Mr. Shane is awake?

I was quite satisfied last night. It seems you haven't neglected your exercise these past three years."

"Ashlyn."

Unfazed, I lit a cigarette and smiled.

"Don't worry, Mr. Shane. I keep my promises.

The role is your little girlfriend's now. I don't want it."

I deliberately emphasized "keep my promises," and sure enough, I saw a flicker of pain in Shane's eyes.

He used to love saying those words to me.

Whenever I coquettishly asked him for endorsements or roles, he would lean down to silence me, slowly removing my dress.

Then, in my moment of confusion, he'd whisper in my ear, "Don't worry, babe, I always keep my promises."

But he deceived me, making me believe there was a future for us.

Facing Shane's gaze, I laughed even more brazenly.

"Mr. Shane, why the expression?

Back then, I traded my body for resources without shame. Why should you feel ashamed today, using your body to trade resources for your woman?"

I deliberately painted our relationship in such an unflattering light, even though I had invested three years of genuine feelings.

After speaking, I watched Shane's eyes intently, hoping to see more.

But his dark eyes remained calm.

I could never read his emotions, not then, not now.

Feeling a bit deflated, I forcefully stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray.

When I looked up again, Shane was silent for a moment before saying, "Ashlyn, I don't have a girlfriend."

Ha.

I didn't believe him.

Even if their relationship wasn't officially announced, many had noticed Shane's close ties with the popular actress Bethany.

I was no exception.

I scoffed, ignoring Shane, and put on my dress, pulling out my phone to message Ryland to come pick me up.

Ryland arrived quickly, driving up in less than 20 minutes.

I put on my mask and hat, and Shane followed me all the way down. When he saw Ryland's face, he paused, stopping in his tracks.

I opened the car door, about to get in, when Shane grabbed my other wrist.

"Ashlyn," he said, enunciating each word, "you can't just leave after sleeping with me. You have to take responsibility."

I turned, smiling brightly at him. "Mr. Shane, you should think about how to explain this to your fiancée."

Shane's fingers trembled slightly, and he let go.

I got into Ryland's car and sped away.

As soon as the car door closed, Ryland asked, "Why are you involved with Shane again?"

I lowered my eyes, examining my freshly done nails. "It's nothing, just slept with him once."

Ryland was my ex-boyfriend.

Like me, he was formally trained but had no connections. When he was struggling with minor roles, I gave him a hand.

Ryland's manager, much like mine back then, perceptively sent Ryland to my room.

I stared at his semi-transparent white shirt for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"I never pressure anyone.

If you want, we can give it a try."

And so, I was with Ryland.

It wasn't long, just three months.

He was a decent boyfriend, considerate and good-looking, but neither of us developed feelings for the other.

It was then I realized that after those three years with Shane, I couldn't find comfort or enjoy intimacy in relationships like before.

I went to the film set to pick up Ryland and calmly broke up with him.

He listened, stunned for a moment, then lowered his head and agreed.

I had Ryland drive me straight back to the company.

As soon as we met, Olivia threw a stack of photos in front of me.

Flipping through them, most were blurry paparazzi shots.

Only one was clear, showing Shane holding my arm in an intimate pose as we entered the hotel.

I looked up at Olivia. "How much does he want?"

"Two million, with the negatives included."

"Oh." I nodded nonchalantly, tearing up the photos. "Alright, we don't need to handle this. Send the digital copies to Shane and let him pay to deal with it."

With Bethany by his side, Shane couldn't possibly allow such photos to circulate.

Even if Shane was wealthy, spending two million for no reason would still sting, right?

But somewhere, my judgment went wrong.

That night, I saw my name trending on Twitter.

"Ashlyn and Shane: Rumored Reconciliation," followed by a "breaking" tag.

Clicking in, there was a grid of nine photos, with the clearest one in the center showing our backs.

Looking at the photo of Shane and myself, I almost felt a surreal sense of time rewinding.

I never truly grasped why Shane suddenly broke things off with me back then, leaving me in confusion.

From the beginning, I was well aware of my position and had mentally prepared myself for the possibility that our relationship could end at any moment.

Yet, he often spoke of the future with such warmth and frequency, as if he had made room for me in his life ahead.

The topic went viral overnight, only to be overshadowed by various trivial news the next day.

Olivia was busy contacting public relations, and it took quite an effort to suppress the public opinion.

I sat in the company meeting room, staring at my phone screen for a long time before deleting the message, "Why did you let him release the news?" word by word.

A few days later, at the kickoff party of a new film crew, I unexpectedly saw Shane again.

The director, Jere, introduced him politely, "Everyone, please meet Mr. Stanley, who just added six million to our production yesterday."

I looked up at Shane, dressed in a sharp suit.

For some reason, what came to mind was the image of him lying naked beside me that night, his eyes filled with desire.

It seemed that the few times he lost control with me were always in bed.

Shane looked at me, smiling gently and calmly, "Hello, Miss Wallace."

His acting was impeccable.

Despite everyone at the table having seen the trending news about us, they all maintained a courteous demeanor under his subtle influence, without a hint of impropriety.

After the banquet, I sent my assistant, Abby, home first and walked to the elevator alone.

Shane followed me in.

After pressing the floor button, I turned to him, "Mr. Stanley, are you staying on the ninth floor too?"

"Yes."

I nodded, saying nothing more, but as the elevator doors opened, I suddenly reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into my room.

I pinned Shane against the wall, his back against the cold surface.

I hadn't inserted the room card, so the room was pitch black.

In the darkness, I found his lips and kissed him fiercely.

We had both had a bit to drink at the banquet, and the scent of alcohol lingered between our breaths.

He softly called out, "Ah Ruan."

That name struck a chord within me.

In the past three years, Shane had only called me that once.

It was when I was drunk and had just taken on a script about family relationships, drunkenly recounting my past to him.

I talked about my unfaithful father, my mother who obsessively controlled my life, and a childhood marked by constant hunger.

I rambled on, and Shane listened quietly, holding me close and whispering, "Ah Ruan."

Looking back, it was probably at that moment that I fell for Shane.

I stepped back, inserted the room card, and turned on the light.

In the sudden brightness, I saw Shane in front of me.

Despite the lipstick smudge on his lips and the disheveled tie, he looked as composed as ever.

In contrast, I saw my own reflection in his eyes-messy hair sticking to my forehead, smudged glittery eyeshadow, and my chest heaving with emotion.

I gritted my teeth, "Don't call me that."

Shane's gaze paused slightly.

"Ashlyn," he said, looking into my eyes, "if you're willing, we can start over."

Start over.

Those words from his mouth seemed so effortless.

I tried to regain my composure, forcing a smile, "Mr. Stanley, if you insist on maintaining our previous relationship, that's fine, but you'll need to offer something new-what you offered before doesn't interest me anymore."

Shane looked at me steadily, "What do you want?"

I smiled brightly, "I haven't landed a high-end brand deal yet."

In the three years since leaving Shane, I climbed from the bottom with nothing, achieving both box office success and critical acclaim, and even won a couple of prestigious awards, establishing my footing in the industry.

But in terms of commercial resources, I still couldn't compete with those with strong backgrounds.

Shane acted quickly. By the next week, someone contacted me, saying he had arranged a jewelry endorsement meeting for me that evening.

When I left the set, I saw Shane waiting in his car at the entrance.

I opened the door and got in without hesitation.

"We're discussing a collaboration with Radiant Gems today," Shane said as he drove.

"It's a rising top-tier jewelry brand in the country. If you don't like it, we can find another."

After a night of filming, my eyes were red. I put on a steam eye mask and lazily said, "Mr. Stanley, you really go to great lengths."

"As long as you like it."

The warmth on my eyes was so comforting that I sighed, "Of course I like it-anything that makes money, I like."

Six years ago, when I first got together with Shane, he asked me what I wanted.

We had just emerged from a wave of passion, and I propped my chin, looking at him with bright eyes, "Mr. Stanley, I want lots of endorsements, a leading role, and to reach a place where everyone looks up to me."

Shane didn't call me delusional; he just chuckled softly, stroked my sweat-dampened hair, and said, "Alright, I'll make it happen."

Looking back, I never hid my desires and ambitions from Shane from the start.

On the day of the wrap party, Shane was there too.

The director, Jere, had a bit to drink and came over, slurring, "Ashlyn... Ashlyn, your acting has improved so much over these three years."

After Shane and I ended things, Olivia took me around, seeking opportunities. The only one willing to let me audition for a minor role was Jere.

In the comfort of success, people tend to become complacent.

The continuous resources over those three years made me forget everything I learned in acting classes.

I stumbled through performances, but Jere still gave me a chance.

He said, "Ashlyn, there's a fierceness in your eyes that I need."

Overcome with memories, I raised my glass, sincerely saying, "Thank you, Jere, for your support."

He downed his drink, glanced around, and suddenly said to Shane, "Actually... you should thank Mr. Stanley."

Thank Shane?

I flashed a charming smile, "Indeed.

If it weren't for Mr. Stanley, I wouldn't be where I am today."

Shane lowered his eyes, withdrawing his gaze.

After the wrap party, everyone was half-drunk, so we had assistants take us home.

When Abby came to pick me up, Shane was right behind me. She hesitated, "This..."

I smiled, "Mr. Stanley is coming home with us."

The car stopped at the apartment building downtown. I bid Abby farewell and wobbled towards the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, my legs gave way, and I fell into Shane's arms.

He held my waist gently, letting me lean against his shoulder.

Once inside the apartment, I pressed Shane against the wall.

He hadn't drunk much, only a faint scent of alcohol on him, and his tie was still perfectly in place.

I deliberately messed up his tie, my fingers gently tracing his throat.

It bobbed twice before he grabbed my mischievous hand.

"Shane."

"I'm here."

"Three years ago, why did you suddenly break up with me?"

I looked up at him.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but I finally couldn't hold back and asked the question that had troubled me for so long.

Shane didn't answer, just stared at me intently.

His gaze seemed to pierce through me, like shards of ice embedding into my flesh and veins.

Suddenly disinterested, I released his collar, saying lightly, "Forget it, it doesn't matter."

But as I stepped back, Shane grabbed my wrist, and with a stumble, I fell back into his embrace.

The warmth from his body, heightened by the alcohol, seeped through the thin fabric.

In that moment, only one clear thought remained in my mind-

A perfect opportunity.

I pressed my cheek against him, whispering, "Do you want to try again, Mr. Stanley?"

The atmosphere was perfectly set for the moment.

Shane removed the tie I had tugged askew, took off his glasses, and with his long fingers covering the back of my hand, pressed me gently onto the soft sofa by the window.

Outside, the city lights twinkled like countless stars, reflecting in my eyes.

He kissed my ear, calling my name repeatedly, "Ashlyn."

"Ashlyn."

It was rare to see him lose control like this.

I took a deep breath, burying my face in his chest, and whispered, "Shane... don't leave me again.

I've missed you terribly these past three years."

My voice carried a cautious probing and nervousness, as if the alcohol and desire had finally revealed a corner of my heart's secrets.

But where Shane couldn't see, my eyes cleared of any intoxication, leaving only a cold, sharp clarity.

In the three years apart from him, I had honed my acting skills to perfection.

Shane didn't know.

He simply paused his hand on my back, then pulled me tightly into his embrace.

"I won't leave again."

His voice was earnest and solemn, like a solemn vow.

Countless nights three years ago, he had made such promises to me in moments of passion.

I curled my lips into a deeply sarcastic smile.

-Liar.

6

And just like that, Shane and I resumed our previous relationship.

He began to accompany me frequently to various public events, unafraid of the photographers.

The previous trending topic about us rekindling our relationship resurfaced, boosting my popularity.

Over the years, I was the only girlfriend Shane had publicly acknowledged, so while many criticized me, there were just as many who shipped us as a couple.

Not long after, I met Bethany at an event.

The last time I saw her was at an audition set, where I only caught a glimpse of her from afar.

This time, being closer, I noticed her eyes were as serene as a still lake, shining like stars under the spotlight.

She smiled and greeted me, "Hello, Miss Wallace."

Shane stood right behind me, but her gaze swept over him without a ripple, nodding slightly as a greeting before walking away without a backward glance.

I stared at her retreating figure for a couple of seconds before Shane's voice came from behind, "I told you, I don't have a girlfriend."

I turned abruptly to look at him, "Then what was that about you asking me to give up the role?"

A rare flash of embarrassment crossed Shane's eyes.

He turned his head, speaking softly, "Keith is here. Let me introduce you."

I should have been angry or used the opportunity to jab at him.

But as he led me step by step towards the spotlight, his warmth seeped through the fabric, enveloping my arm, and the cracks in my heart seemed to mend slowly.

Suddenly, I couldn't say anything.

With Shane present, I had a pleasant conversation with Keith and successfully secured a collaboration on a top national variety show.

On the day of the recording, Shane personally drove me.

In the past, he would usually have his assistant Dominic take me.

I climbed into the car with my dress, took the script from Abby, and skimmed through it quickly.

Shane rested his hand on the steering wheel and asked, "Did you like the things I had Dominic deliver yesterday?

I wanted to bring them myself, but there was a last-minute meeting at the company."

I paused, looked up, and smiled calmly, "I liked them."

In truth, the pile of gift boxes Dominic brought was still sitting unopened in my apartment.

Shane often had Dominic deliver things-jewelry, car keys, handbags... and clothes he wanted to see me wear.

I would always thank Dominic politely, then save the items to open in front of Shane, playing the part of a delighted and obedient girl.

Shane's eyes dimmed slightly, but he said nothing more, just turned his head and drove silently.

But I didn't expect that besides me, the show had also invited Ryland.

At the first sight of him, Shane pursed his lips and instinctively grabbed my wrist, pulling me close to his side.

Ryland was dressed flamboyantly, with a baseball cap on his head and sparkling earrings, exuding an overwhelming youthful energy.

He waved enthusiastically when he saw me, "Ashlyn!"

I glanced at him, then at Shane, who seemed calm, and suddenly felt like laughing.

Ryland and I had worked on two films together. Although his roles were small due to his lesser fame, we had quite a bit of interaction, and our past relationship was known to some in the industry.

During the variety show recording, the host tried several times to steer the conversation towards romance.

I smiled without taking the bait, while Ryland deflected the questions with his usual humor, skillfully turning them back.

In the end, the host could only half-jokingly remark, "No wonder you've worked together so many times; your chemistry is enviable."

I covered my face with a cue card, slightly curving my lips without saying a word.

By the time the recording ended, it was dark outside, and the temperature had dropped sharply.

After the makeup artist removed my makeup, Abby realized she hadn't brought my coat.

She hesitated, "Should I go next door and borrow one from Mr. Pearson's team?"

Before she finished speaking, a suit jacket, still warm, landed on my arm.

Shane lowered his eyes slightly, "No need, wear mine."

I smiled, raising an eyebrow, "Alright."

Shane had a slight cleanliness obsession; his jacket carried only a faint, cool fragrance, without even a hint of tobacco, despite his smoking habit.

I draped the jacket over my shoulders, suddenly remembering that the scent was from Silver Mountain Water, the first bottle of cologne I had given him.

With the jacket off, Shane was left in a white shirt, his tie impeccably knotted, accentuating his well-defined muscles.

He stood habitually straight, making his tall and imposing figure even more pronounced.

Shane was already thirty-five.

Yet time seemed to favor him, leaving no trace on him except for a more composed and calm demeanor.

I studied Shane for a moment, then linked my arm through his, "Let's go."

As we stepped outside, the night breeze was slightly cool.

Wrapped in Shane's jacket, I lowered my head and walked through the plant-lined corridor outside the studio, stopping abruptly when a flash of light caught my eye. I looked towards the corner.

Someone was taking photos secretly.

Shane's grip on my arm tightened slightly, "I'll have Dominic handle it."

I pulled my arm free, stretching lazily, "No need, let them be."

By the time we reached the parking lot, Ryland had already left.

Abby and Olivia took the van, while I slipped into the passenger seat of Shane's car, scrolling through Whatsapp messages from Ryland.

"Ashlyn, I left first.

How did I do today?"

I chuckled, typing back, "Your acting has improved a lot."

"What? I'm being sincere!"

We chatted back and forth until Shane suddenly braked, and I looked up.

"We're home."

Shane said flatly.

After we got back, he mentioned he had some work to finish and went into the study with his laptop.

I took a shower, loosely draped a robe over myself, and rummaged through the fridge for a bottle of tequila. I mixed two drinks, added a couple of ice cubes, and headed to the study to find Shane.

Shane had slight myopia but only wore glasses while working, which added to his restrained aura.

I leaned against him in my robe, swirling the drink as I glanced at the computer screen.

Whether in the past or now, Shane never avoided me while working.

Sometimes I wondered if he trusted me too much or simply didn't think I could affect his company in any way.

I used to be lost in the future he painted, mistakenly believing it was the former.

But now I knew it was most likely the latter.

The ice cubes in my glass had mostly melted, and Shane was still staring intently at the dense numbers on the screen, as if trying to decipher something profound.

Growing impatient, I slowly reached over, teasingly tracing his wrist bone.

But Shane suddenly withdrew his hand.

I paused.

"Shane, are you angry?" I blinked, then laughed, "It can't be because of Ryland, can it?"