Ashes of Love, Mists of Life

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After I was blacklisted, I agreed to my ex-boyfriend's demand. I would be a nude body double for his mistress, mimicking an adult film actress. One part of me was numb, the other grateful. The money would clear tomorrow, and my mother's respirator wouldn't have to be shut off.

The third scene ended, and laughter erupted from behind the cameras.

"Layla's wiggling so seductively. Must have practiced a lot in bed, huh?"

My spine stiffened instantly. Roman Thorne, from behind me, couldn't resist a mocking remark. "That's about the only thing her 'wildness' is worth money for."

Humiliation washed over me. Then, he casually added, "That fifty million will be transferred in another six months."

I turned back, terrified. "Didn't we agree it would be paid as soon as the shoot finished?" Without that money, the hospital would pull the plug tomorrow.

Roman Thorne indifferently tossed the script. "The liquid funds were invested in a big production for his new discovery, Clara. It's her first lead role, so the grandiosity has to be perfect."

He expected me to throw a fit, to beg and plead as I had in the past. But this time, I was genuinely exhausted.

"Are you going out like that?"

Roman Thorne raised an eyebrow, eyeing my thin costume, then glanced at the camera. I knew he was reminding me that the crew was all outside. But I had just been paraded, in far more humiliating scenes, in front of a live audience. What else was there left that I couldn't face?

I walked out numbly. Roman Thorne grabbed my wrist. "Can't you show some decency?"

I turned back to him, calmly. "Have you ever given me any decency?"

He fell silent. We both knew the truth. From the moment he picked me up from film school at nineteen, he had elevated me to superstardom, earning me countless awards, making me shine with unparalleled glory. He said he loved my pride, loved the spirited way I stood at the pinnacle of success. But when my family faced bankruptcy, he was the first to turn his back. All because Clara, a budding new starlet, had whimpered, "Roman, Layla's looking at me... I'm scared."

He had personally broken my wings, dragged me down from the clouds, and trampled me into the dirt. Seven years of devotion, yet it couldn't stand against a newcomer's few tears. He had broken up with me seven times, each time because Clara needed a better opportunity. Even now, knowing my mother lay in the ICU, with daily expenses that were astronomical, he remained utterly indifferent.

My eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears. "How much did you invest in that film?"

He answered casually. "Five hundred million."

Five hundred million.

My heart felt like it was being cruelly squeezed, making it impossible to breathe. I only needed fifty million. A mere fraction of that five hundred million would be enough to save my mother's life. Seven years with him, and I was worth less than the pomp and circumstance of Clara's new film. Roman Thorne had always been absolute with me. He said six months; even if I died here and now, he wouldn't change his mind.

I stopped arguing, simply opening the studio door. Outside, a few stagehands were laughing, but seeing me, they instantly fell silent. They looked at me awkwardly. Someone finally let out a dry cough. "Layla, all done?"

They exchanged knowing glances, then resumed their low laughter.

I didn't argue further, just pushed open the curtain. I came face to face with several corpulent investors. They looked at me awkwardly, and someone whistled. "Layla, the award-winner, are you finished with your shoot?"

A burst of raucous laughter followed.

Roman Thorne threw an ashtray from inside, shattering it at their feet. Glass shards flew, but I didn't flinch, a piece cutting my calf. Blood trickled down my skin, yet I felt nothing. Roman Thorne stared intently at my wounded leg, his brow furrowing slightly. After a long moment, he tossed his suit jacket over me, in front of everyone. "I said six months, it's not like I'm not giving it to you. Who are you putting on this act for, huh?"

He didn't even button it, just draped it casually, for appearances. I stared deeply at the man I had loved for seven years. I always believed that if I was just a little more obedient, a little more humble, he would remember the good in me. People often say that loving someone means feeling their pain, but in his eyes, there was only the cold indifference of someone viewing a plaything.

The moment I stepped out of the studio, all the strength drained from my body, my legs trembling uncontrollably. As tears streamed down my face, I heard their excited chatter from inside the door.

Someone asked Roman Thorne, "Layla's family definitely got set up this time, Mr. Thorne. Aren't you going to do anything?"

Roman Thorne's cool voice replied, "I was the one who set it up. Clara said Layla publicly humiliated her when she first debuted, making her suffer for years. I had to get some revenge for her."

"Aren't you afraid she won't come back this time? She's an award-winning actress after all; she has her pride."

At this, Roman Thorne burst out laughing. "Don't be silly. I've known her for eight years, she's been with me for seven. When has Layla not come running at my every word? If she could truly leave me, I might even respect her more."

I leaned against the wall, biting down hard on the back of my hand, just to keep from making a sound. My family's bankruptcy, my complete blacklisting online C it was all Roman Thorne's doing. Simply because Clara had felt slighted years ago.

The wounds on my body and my damp clothes clung together, tearing at my skin with every movement. I remembered my mother, intubated, and the doctor's warning that if I didn't pay soon, they would turn off the respirator. I slapped myself hard several times. "You fool. It's because you fell in love with him that you've driven yourself and Mom to such desperation."

I had never imagined my love story would end like this. Thorne Media, Roman's family company, wielded absolute power in the entertainment industry. Roman Thorne's single word could decide the fate of any artist. If he was determined to get revenge for Clara, no one in the entire industry would dare help me.

I stood on an overpass, utterly broken, watching the ceaseless flow of car lights below, almost tempted to jump. But I couldn't. What would happen to my mother if I died?

"Yes, Clara." A sudden thought struck me.

At an awards ceremony long ago, I was the Best Actress, and she was an obscure newcomer. Backstage, an investor, fueled by alcohol, wouldn't let go of her hand. I happened to pass by and helped her out of the predicament. At that time, I was giving Roman Thorne the cold shoulder because of rumors linking him to another actress. He hadn't humored me, instead, he'd given a mocking chuckle, as if to spite me. "Is Layla the only one who does good deeds? That newcomer, Thorne Media is taking over her management contract."

Little did I know, that was the beginning of the tangled web between the three of us.

I don't know when Roman Thorne first took an interest in Clara. He showered her with top-tier resources, hired the best acting coaches, and put her on the hottest variety shows. To protect her from being bullied by industry veterans, he outright bought her an endorsement deal for an entire luxury brand. If Clara ever suffered even the slightest grievance, I didn't need to ask to know. Because Roman Thorne would preemptively break up with me, then use my resources to atone. He always said, "Clara is innocent; she can't handle the dirt of this industry." She couldn't suffer, so I was the one who had to.

I rushed to the club where Clara's celebration party was being held tonight. But the security guard blocked me at the door. "I'm sorry, Miss Hayes. Mr. Thorne has instructed that no one is to disturb Miss Reed's enjoyment." This club used to be a frequent haunt for Roman Thorne and me. Now that I was blacklisted, no one would give me any respect. The cold wind pierced through my body, and my wounds reopened, making my lips tremble with pain.

"Let her in." I looked up. Roman Thorne stood in the doorway, looking down at me. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by cold indifference. "Who are you trying to play pitiful for? Don't you know you'll get a fever if you get rained on?"

That was true; I had a weak constitution and would get a high fever if I got wet. During the best period of my relationship with Roman Thorne, he would always anxiously wrap me in his coat, terrified I would get sick. I lowered my head. "I want to talk to Miss Reed."

Roman Thorne frowned, a faint sneer playing on his lips. "You still haven't changed, Layla."

He was afraid I would cause trouble for Clara. After all, I had a history. When I first learned Clara often called Roman Thorne in the middle of the night, claiming she was afraid of the dark and couldn't sleep, I had stormed into her film set and, in front of everyone, thrown her phone into a bucket of water. As the entire crew laughed at Clara, Roman Thorne had walked over and slapped me across the face. All the crew members were stunned.

I stuck out my neck, asserting my claim. "You're my boyfriend, not just any stray cat or dog who can be bothered in the middle of the night." Roman Thorne just gave me a cold look, then, in front of everyone, shielded the weeping Clara behind him. "Look at you now, what's the difference between you and a madwoman?!" He left me standing there, being judged by everyone.

Clara, as a result, landed a film role I had been negotiating for six months with a major international director. And at that time, he locked me in the basement to "reflect." Clara cried for how many days, I was locked up for that many days. Not a drop of water. Roman Thorne had to coax her for an entire week before he came home. He was also worried she would be affected by public opinion, so he bought a film company and gave it to her as a gift.

I shook my head, forcing out a smile that was uglier than a cry. "I just want to explain to her that we've already broken up." His obvious disbelief still brought a bitter taste to my mouth. I admitted I still loved him. Knowing he was the heir to the Thorne family and had immense self-esteem, I had never defied him. I was always afraid that a single expression or word might hurt him. Yet, I never imagined he would be so merciless towards me. That he would conspire to bankrupt my family and have me blacklisted, all just to appease Clara. I don't not love him; I simply don't dare anymore.

Once the sense of injustice surfaced in my heart, it spread like a wild vine. Tears fell unbidden. Roman Thorne frowned. "Just talk, why are you crying..."

He was about to raise his hand when a figure rushed out from inside the club. Clara, wearing a haute couture gown, with exquisite makeup and a body adorned with jewelry, exuded an air of wealth. She was completely different from the timid newcomer she used to be. More like a queen held in Roman Thorne's palm than I ever was.

"Why did you come out?" Roman Thorne took off his jacket, intimately draping it over her bare shoulders, asking tenderly. She looked up, and the moment her eyes reddened, Roman Thorne was thrown into disarray, bending down to gently console her. "What's wrong? Who upset our Clara?" Only then did Clara's tears turn to a smile. She gently punched Roman Thorne, whispering, "I heard Layla was here, so I came out to see."

"Now you've seen her, are you satisfied?" He asked Clara, but his gaze was fixed on me. I guessed the answer was yes, she was satisfied. The award-winning actress who had once helped her out at an awards ceremony was now in tattered clothes, her hair disheveled and plastered to her face. She was as pathetic as one could be. How could she possibly be dissatisfied? I actually wanted to confront her, but I didn't dare. After all, if I angered Clara, Mom wouldn't even have her respirator for a few more days. I forced myself to put on an ingratiating smile. "Clara, long time no see."

She, however, was much more familiar than I was. "Layla, you didn't really have to come in person. I've already forgiven you."

I looked up at her. Forgiven me? Forgiven me for throwing away her phone when she was trying to seduce someone else's boyfriend, or forgiven me for blocking her path in the entertainment industry? For a moment, I couldn't tell, just stared at her blankly.

Roman Thorne, however, suddenly flared up. "Clara is a generous person. Shouldn't you say thank you?"

Heart-wrenching pain. That was it. I fiercely held back my tears. Three words swirled on my tongue. I bit my tongue until it bled, the metallic taste spreading in my mouth before I could stutter them out. "Tha... thank you..."

Roman Thorne's gaze shifted from me. He pulled out a black card and handed it to Clara. "Here's fifty million. You decide if you want to give it to her."

My eyes immediately lit up. If I could just get this money, my mom would be saved. I looked at Clara with hopeful eyes, but watched as she slowly tightened her grip on the card. Clara pouted delicately. "Layla caused me to be ridiculed by the whole crew back then, and almost caused a misunderstanding with Roman. I don't want to just give it to her like that."

Roman Thorne chuckled, gently flicking her nose with his finger. "Whatever you wish."

I instantly panicked. Mom was waiting for this money to save her life, and all my savings had gone to filling the holes in our family's finances. Now I was penniless, constantly surrounded by paparazzi and creditors. Mom's heart wasn't strong; she had ended up in the ICU after a scare. The last shred of hope was right in front of me. I pleaded, "Clara, I'm sorry. I'll accept any punishment. Please, help me."

Clara thought for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger, then suddenly said playfully, "How about this, Layla? You dance that 'dog crawl' dance you did on set for me right here, and I'll give you the card, okay?" She smiled sweetly, but her words were more venomous than a snake. "The one where you crawl on the ground like a little dog. Lots of people said you danced it especially well."

Roman Thorne still said nothing. He stood with his hands behind his back beside Clara, as if endorsing all her actions. "Not willing, huh..." she sighed regretfully, about to put the card back in her bag.

I immediately panicked. "I'm willing!"

As soon as those words left my mouth, she smiled radiantly. Her eyes curved into crescents, her chin slightly raised as if waiting for me to act. I glanced at the indifferent Roman Thorne, and slowly bent my body. It was just a simple movement, yet I felt as if I had been killed a thousand times.

Thump. My knees and palms hit the cold floor. I collapsed onto it, my fingernails digging hard into my palms, my hands trembling. "Woof... woof..." I barked like a dog, crawling in front of them. Humiliation made my vision blacken. Clara smiled with satisfaction, then stamped her foot. "Oh, Layla, I was just joking with you, you actually did it."

I didn't move, still prostrate before them. "Ugh..." Clara sighed, then threw the card in front of me. I reached out and picked it up, tears falling one by one onto the embossed card.

Mom could be saved. Roman Thorne, I don't dare to love anymore.

I stood up, softly saying, "Thank you." Roman Thorne's face seemed to darken. He brushed off Clara's clinging hand and walked inside. "Roman..." she called out, but Roman Thorne didn't look back. Clara glared at me, annoyed. "Aren't you leaving?"

I got up and left the club. Behind me, Clara vexed for a while. Then her friends who had returned from abroad emerged, exclaiming in surprise, "Clara, so you really are Roman Thorne's girlfriend! His family is top-tier elite in the city!" The earlier unpleasantness vanished. Clara proudly lifted her chin. "I told you, but you didn't believe me." The girls grew excited, but then one asked, "That Layla just now, she seemed to have quite a relationship with Roman. You just gave her fifty million? Isn't that too cheap for her?"

Clara's eyes darkened, and a smile played on her lips. "Who said that money was given for free? I've already had someone anonymously send the video to all the major media outlets."

"What video?"

Clara smiled. "Nothing, just a little video of the award-winning actress Layla... crawling like a dog at the club entrance. That's all."

I left the club, racing to the hospital. Once Mom had her surgery, I would take her to another city, to start a new life. As for Roman Thorne, this was the end for us.