Chapter 3

The news of our breakup spread much faster than I had expected.

One after another, the invitations for commercial performances I had received were withdrawn. The reasons they gave were always polite, carefully worded, and impossible to argue with.

When I called the investors I had worked with before and introduced myself, some of them immediately pretended that the line was busy and hung up.

There were, however, a few bold heirs who drove around my apartment building every day, lingering downstairs as if waiting for something.

Meanwhile, Vivian posted all kinds of statements online every day, claiming that her brother had been deceived and that I needed to return the money I had taken from him.

My phone was constantly filled with harassment messages. The contents were almost identical: demanding that I pay the money back and stop pretending nothing had happened.

I recorded every number one by one and saved screenshots of every message.

I would settle this account eventually. Just not now.

The next day, I received a transfer from Julian’s secretary’s account.

The amount was very generous, almost as if he was trying to buy off those years we had spent together.

I returned the money through the original channel that same day and saved evidence of that transaction as well.

For some reason, I always felt that everything I was doing would eventually prove useful.

Online, everyone kept saying how much money I had spent from Julian, and after hearing it repeatedly, even I almost believed it.

Over the past few days, whenever I had nothing else to do, I actually calculated everything carefully. I deducted the gifts we had given each other and listed every expense we had made for one another.

The result was almost absurd.

I had spent thirteen thousand dollars more than he had.

Everyone said that I had taken advantage of him and deceived him.

But when it came to money, was I really the one who had taken more?

I printed out every transfer record and gift list and placed them inside my personal bag.

The invitation to the annual music industry gala in the state had arrived ten days earlier. Although I had already promised my family that I would return as soon as possible, before leaving, I still needed to settle every account clearly.

Besides, the guests attending the gala should all be familiar faces.

After all, the event was sponsored by the Hale Foundation.

My agent advised me not to go.

He said the purpose of this gala was clearly to humiliate me and that, under the current circumstances, I should protect myself and avoid unnecessary trouble.

I smiled slightly.

“I know you’re saying this because you care about me, but I can’t keep being the one who suffers forever, can I? I have to go.”

On the night of the gala, I wore a simple black dress that was deliberately understated, with my hair tied up neatly.

Before entering the venue, I walked through a corridor lined with promotional photographs.

Every face on those walls was familiar.

I was the last person to arrive.

The guests were already gathered together, and their conversations were unsurprisingly centered around the rumors about me that had been spreading throughout the industry.

No one greeted me.

As I walked past the main table toward my empty seat, I heard someone whisper:

“Things have already gotten this far, and she still dares to show up? She really has no shame.”

“Excuse me.”

I moved past them and deliberately kicked their chair slightly out of place.

Julian was sitting at the sponsor’s table, talking with Vivian.

He did not look at me.

A stack of printed documents was passed over from the main table.

They were the so-called expense records of everything Julian had supposedly spent on me, the ones that had gone viral online.

The person who handed them over smiled mockingly.

“Come take a look at what a gold digger looks like. This is a good chance for everyone to learn something.”

Vivian sat beside the main table. She looked at me with obvious disdain.

“Everyone happens to be here tonight. Bianca, why don’t you explain in front of everyone when you plan to repay this money? Give us an exact date.”

“She probably doesn’t even have the money now,” someone added. “Didn’t you hear? No one is willing to book her performances anymore, and she still has cancellation fees to pay.”

Another person tapped his fingers against the table.

“Julian has been with you for so many years. If you can’t pay it all at once, you can repay him in installments.”

I had no interest in arguing.

I sat down first and began looking through the stack of documents.

When I reached the third page, I looked up.

“The yacht expense.”

I tapped the page.

“I was competing in Vienna that day. Who paid for this?”

Vivian’s expression did not change.

“These are all just expense records circulating online. Who knows whether they’re real or not?”

“If you don’t even know whether they’re real, you printed them out, handed them to me, and demanded that I repay them?”

I placed the papers back onto the table.

“That’s quite a bold move. Fabricating evidence and trying to extort money.”

The young heir sitting across from me took a sip of wine.

“Hale is right here. Don’t change the subject. Just answer one thing. Are you going to repay the money or not?”

I looked at Julian.

He lifted his glass, took a sip of wine, and remained silent.

“Fine.”

I looked away from him.

“You’re choosing not to speak, so I’ll say it myself.”

I stood up and took two sheets of paper from my bag.

“You’ve spread these documents around so many times that you’ve convinced yourself of your own story. Do you really think you spent that much money on me?”

One of the pages was the refund confirmation from the transfer made by his secretary. The order numbers and dates were clearly listed.

The other page contained a complete record of every gift we had exchanged during our relationship.

The sports car matched the fireworks display.

The necklace matched the earrings.

Every item had its corresponding record.

I placed both pages in the center of the main table.

“Keeping the accounts clear is a good thing.”

I looked around.

“Let’s see who actually owes whom.”

The two pages remained untouched on the table.

No one reached for them.

Not because they were uninterested, but because they were worried about Julian’s reaction.

After we left, those documents would undoubtedly be read by everyone who wanted to know the truth.

The people who had been making jokes earlier switched tables when it was time for toasts later that evening.

Some of them did not even dare to raise a glass toward Julian.

Before the event ended, Vivian seemed ready to say something else, but the person beside her quietly pulled at her sleeve.

“This dinner was quite good. Thank you for the hospitality.”

I was about to stand up and leave when a familiar voice suddenly came from behind me.

“Miss Moretti.”