Six

ZETIAN’S POV

It has been five years. Five years since I lost my child.

The ache never truly faded. It lingered like a shadow, hidden behind forced smiles and buried beneath an ever-growing list of responsibilities. Some days, it was a dull throb at the back of my mind; on others, it came crashing down like a tidal wave, threatening to consume me whole.

Tonight was one of those nights.

I had been drinking—not for pleasure, not even for escapism, but for business.

Negotiating with investors meant playing by their rules, and if that required sitting through hours of insufferable toasts and empty flattery, so be it.

My head pounded, my throat burned from the alcohol, and I decided I needed a moment of peace. But the last thing I expected was for Katherine to follow me.

She was my manager, but she acted more like my handler. And right now, she had that all-too-familiar condescending glint in her eyes.

“Katherine, is there something you want to say to me?” I asked, rubbing my temples, trying to stave off the impending migraine.

“Zetian, I just wanted to ask you a question,” she said smoothly, though I could already sense the accusation laced within her tone. “Did you register to audition for the female lead in the upcoming movie?”

I barely blinked.

“Yes. Why?”

Her lips curled into a smirk—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re not allowed to go for that audition tomorrow.”

Ah. I should have known.

Although I was an actress under Moonlight Entertainment, I was painfully aware of the invisible chains Cindy had wrapped around the company. Katherine was no different—just another pawn in Cindy’s pocket.

I arched a brow.

“Reason?”

Katherine scoffed.

“You went behind my back and acted on your own, and you still dare ask why? The company has already arranged for Cindy to go for the audition.”

“This doesn’t seem to conflict with the company’s arrangements.” My lips curled into a faint smile. “Don’t tell me Cindy made you come to me? Is she afraid that I, a small-time actress whose name isn’t even widely known, will snatch her role?” I mused, tilting my head slightly.

Katherine let out a cold, mocking laugh.

“You think you have the ability to take Cindy’s role? That must be in your dreams! Let me tell you something, darling—Cindy’s role is secured. The Andersons family has invested 30 million into this movie. Do you really think they’d risk losing their golden child’s moment in the spotlight?”

I met her gaze, unflinching.

“Then why are you so anxious?”

Her expression darkened.

“Enough of this argument, Zetian. You’re my artist, and you have to listen to my arrangements!”

“Oh? So now you remember that I’m an artist under you?” I retorted with a slow, amused blink.

Katherine sighed impatiently.

“I don’t have time for this. Since you’re refusing to comply, don’t blame me for resorting to force.”

Before I could react, something hard slammed into my back. Pain exploded along my spine as I stumbled forward, my phone slipping from my grasp and skidding across the corridor floor. My body crashed into a cold, dark space—a storeroom by the bar’s corner.

The door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang.

I stumbled in the darkness, my breath coming out in sharp, unsteady gasps. The sharp scent of dust and stale wood filled my nostrils.

I rushed to the door, banging on it with both fists.

“Katherine! Open this door!” I screamed, my voice raw with frustration.

Silence.

I slammed my palms against the wood again. “You can’t do this! Let me out!”

But there was no response.

My heartbeat pounded against my ribs. I pressed my forehead against the door, my breaths coming out in short, heavy bursts. The alcohol was still in my system, and combined with the exhaustion creeping into my bones, my strength was rapidly fading.

After what felt like an eternity, I slid down to the floor, resting my head against the doorframe. The fight had drained out of me.

My hands curled into fists on my lap.

Cindy… Katherine… they would do anything to keep me out of this industry.

I exhaled slowly, letting the silence settle around me. But then—

A noise.

A small, almost imperceptible sound.

My head snapped up.

At first, I thought it was a mouse. But then it came again—a faint shuffle, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

Cautiously, I turned my gaze toward the farthest corner of the room.

There—hidden behind a stack of worn-out boxes—was a child.

A little boy.

He looked to be around four, maybe five years old. His delicate features were carved with an almost porcelain-like precision, his skin a soft, milky white. His dark lashes were long and curled slightly at the tips, framing a pair of wide, glassy eyes that held an innocence so pure it was almost heartbreaking. His small nose was slightly upturned, and his lips, plump and rosy, quivered slightly.

But it was his hair that caught my attention the most—jet-black and slightly tousled, giving him the appearance of a lost angel. And his scent felt like home.

He was shivering, curled into himself like a frightened kitten, his tiny hands clutching the fabric of his oversized sweater.

My heart clenched. Gemini whined in happiness. What was making her happy was something I didn't understand.

But come to think of it, why would there be a child in a storeroom of a bar? There shouldn’t be a customer so crazy as to bring their child to a bar, right?.