When she first entered the entertainment world, she had nothing—no connections or fame. She was stuck playing extras, barely scraping by. I felt bad for her, so I worked behind the scenes, convincing directors to give her a shot. I even endured humiliation for her.
One time, a director tried to drug me to 'seal the deal.'
But back then, none of it mattered. I believed in her, in us.
That belief seems like a cruel joke now.
Luckily, Margot had shown up with the police just in time to save me that day. I still remember how she clung to me afterward, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Frank, I’ll quit acting,” she had cried. “I can’t let you suffer like this, especially not at the hands of some disgusting men…”
Back then, she really did love me with everything she had. We leaned on each other, weathering every storm together.
But now?
Now, she was the one suggesting I seduce foreign businessmen like it was nothing.
It was laughable—absurd.
I felt a burning sting behind my eyes and let out a bitter, hollow laugh, lowering my head to hide the hurt.
“You’re right,” I said, forcing the words out. “I should make the most of this opportunity.”
With that, I swallowed my pride and humiliation, stepping toward the circle of foreign executives.
Before I could reach them, Steven’s sharp voice cut through the air behind me. “Carmichael's left hand is perfectly fine, isn’t it?”
Margot added her own soft, venomous laugh. “Oh, he’s lying. Don’t listen to him.”
The mocking laughter around me grew louder, sharper, cutting deeper than any insult could.
I froze in place, the jeers piercing through me like needles, sending a chill down my spine. I barely had time to process it before a few of the foreigners waved me away in clear disgust, dismissing me without a word.
What stung the most wasn’t their rejection—it was the fact that some of them were fans who had once praised my skills and admired me as one of the best pianists in the world.
Once, my techniques earned me international acclaim. I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, I could fight for a chance here—to prove myself, to salvage even a shred of what I had lost.
But I never expected they wouldn’t even let me speak. Instead, they turned their attention to Steven, laughing along with him, openly mocking me without restraint.
I forced a faint, brittle smile and scanned the room, still desperately searching for a way—any way—to create an opening for myself.