Third Person's POV
Harley froze, turning to stare at the agent with a tense expression.
"Leo is Catherine's family. If you join Nebula, it pits you against Leo. You're refusing outright because you don't want to hurt Catherine, right?" The agent wasn't foolish; he'd hit the nail on the head.
Harley's face flickered with emotion. After taking a sip of wine, he remained silent.
The agent sighed heavily. "Catherine is already Mrs. Chavez now. Why cling to her? Do you really think she'd give up that position to be with you? Stop living in a fantasy. It's pitiful."
"Bang!" A glass cup smashed onto the floor before the agent. Harley's face was grim.
He lunged forward, grabbing the agent's collar. "Don't speak nonsense!"
The agent, pale with fear, noticed Harley standing on shards of glass—a careless step could lead to injury.
Quickly apologizing, the agent said, "Alright, Harley, calm down! I'm wrong for bad-mouthing Catherine. I'm just blunt. Let me go, watch out for the glass!"
Harley stepped back, only to feel a sting in his heel. Looking down, he saw blood seeping through his white socks from the glass shards.
"My goodness, your foot's hurt!" the agent exclaimed.
Harley grimaced and sat on the sofa.
The agent promptly swept away the glass, fetched a first-aid kit, and knelt before Harley's injured leg. "You're a hotshot now. One day's delay could cost the studio a fortune. Please be more careful."
As he removed the glass, staunched the bleeding, and bandaged the wound, Harley didn't utter a sound, his gaze as cold and still as ever.
"I know I'll never be with her in this life. No need to remind me," Harley finally spoke after a long silence, his eyes regaining a hint of light.
The agent sighed. "Never met anyone more lovestruck than you. If your fans knew how devoted you are, they'd go wild!"
Harley lowered his head, his eyes reddening. "She used to support my dream of acting."
The agent, aware he was treading on sensitive ground, patted Harley's shoulder. "Take women's words with a grain of salt. Don't take them too seriously."
Harley lay back on the sofa and told the agent, "You can leave. I want to rest."
After the agent left, Harley rested for a while, then picked up a nearby novel—the script for his new urban romance drama.
He'd taken this role because he'd read the original years ago and found the protagonists' backgrounds eerily similar to his and Catherine's past.
When the director held auditions, he was thrilled and nailed the role on his first try.
Thus, Harley poured much of himself into this drama.
He hoped the woman who'd married into wealth would, in her spare time, catch a glimpse of the show and recall fragments of their shared past.
Catherine's career grew increasingly busy. After the wedding, her status and fame soared.
Thanks to some well-timed hype, she received more design offers, with fees climbing higher each time.
With a backlog of projects, she decided to immerse herself fully in her work.
At noon, while browsing entertainment news online, she recalled Jessica mentioning Harley's recent success during their wedding chat.
Wanting to check in on him as a friend, she decided to catch up via news—no initiating contact.
An interview of Harley caught her eye.
In the video, he sat on a sofa with a microphone in hand, his youthful hairstyle and aura a stark contrast to his seasoned on-screen persona.
Yet, his portrayal of the male lead showcased his acting prowess, the duality of his characters sending his popularity soaring.
Catherine watched intently. He still carried that shy charm from his youth.
The host persistently probed about his personal life, leaving him flustered and red-faced.
A pang of sorrow struck her, and she swiftly closed the video—whether from guilt or genuine concern, she couldn't say.
No sooner had she shut it off than Blake's call came through.
"There's a banquet tonight. Get ready and join me," his voice was deep and tender.
"Sure, come pick me up," Catherine replied softly.
"How's work?" Blake asked languidly.
"It's fine. I'm a pro at slacking off—doesn't tire me out," Catherine teased.
"Good. I'd hate to see you tired," Blake's sweet nothings came effortlessly.
Catherine chuckled. "This is so cheesy. Gotta go, busy with work. See you tonight and help you relax."
"Right," Blake murmured, though he made no move to hang up. Catherine ended the call first.
Blake stared at his phone, lost in thought. Married life made him feel neglected by Catherine.
Before marriage, she'd dote on him, hesitating even to end calls; now, she hung up without a second thought, leaving him somewhat disheartened.
In the afternoon, Blake headed to Catherine's place early for the banquet.
Catherine always chose gowns from the same high-end boutique for events. Today was no exception.
Upon arrival, the staff immediately presented the latest collection.
With her striking figure, almost every dress suited her impeccably.
She settled on a black chiffon dress, its skirt as light as mist, swishing dramatically with each step—a style she adored.