After a moment of stillness, fresh tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes, unstoppable and raw. Perhaps it was time to release herself from the grip of false hope—to finally face the reality she had refused to acknowledge. The sheer volume of injuries from the fire was staggering, overwhelming the already burdened doctors and nurses. Elizabeth had only been slightly grazed by a falling clothes rack, sustaining a deep, jagged wound on her calf. Compared to the surrounding chaos, her injury seemed insignificant. She received basic care—a quick cleaning and bandage—at a local hospital before taking a cab home to Bayview Villa, Kristopher's opulent property, technically their marital home. Living alone had become her routine; Kristopher was rarely present. She'd dismissed the housekeeper, finding she could manage with takeout, deliveries, and occasional cleaning help.

Now, alone in the expansive living room, she sank into the couch, her gaze drifting across the vacant space. The stark, monochromatic décor offered no warmth. A chilling realization crept in: this vast, refined space felt more like an enormous tomb, a quiet memorial to her lost youth and a faded love. In this cold, empty house, would anyone even notice if she stopped breathing? Elizabeth sighed wearily, her body heavy as she leaned against the chilly wall for support, struggling to ascend the stairs to her bedroom. Each step was agony, sending sharp pains from her skin to her bones. The stark, hollow house amplified even the smallest sounds, intensifying her solitude. It was in this profound silence that Elizabeth truly understood the all-encompassing nature of her loneliness—it was palpable, a thick, sorrowful fog tightening around her heart, causing a dull, persistent ache.

Reaching her bedroom, she collapsed onto the bed, utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Just as weariness claimed her, the sharp ring of the phone pierced the quiet. "You reached out earlier. What is it?" Kristopher's voice cut through the line, cold and distant. Elizabeth was startled by his unexpected call. Words failed her, but before she could speak, a soft, feminine voice drifted from the other end: "Kristopher, will you join me to…" A wave of emotion gripped Elizabeth; her heart pounded. Overcome with panic, she demanded, "Who's with you?" Kristopher didn't reply, merely stating flatly, "If you need something, we'll talk when I'm back. I have urgent matters; I need to hang up." He ended the call abruptly.

As the harsh beep filled her ears, Elizabeth smiled ruefully. How foolish she felt! Deep down, she'd known his response, yet clung to the hope of hearing his confirmation. With a sense of self-inflicted irony, she opened her tablet and scrolled through trending topics. One headline caught her eye: "A female star shielded from harassment at a dinner by her formidable partner." A wry smile tugged at her lips. Elizabeth knew all too well what it was like to face harassment at such dinners. She vividly remembered her first major audition; her agent had taken her to dinner with the influential director and producer of "Serene Sighs." As a newcomer, she'd felt incredibly vulnerable. The producer leered at her, sneering, "Is this the new talent? She seems presentable, but let's see how she handles a drink. If you can down this bottle, I'll secure you an audition for the lead."

Elizabeth wanted to refuse, but under her agent's pressure, she finished the bottle. Later that night, she was rushed to the hospital with a severe stomach ailment. Her agent, anxious about the role, hastily paid the hospital bills and left her alone for several days. Even before her discharge, the news broke that Sandra had landed the lead role. Afterward, her agent reprimanded Elizabeth for her lack of ambition, saying, "You're more appealing than Sandra, so why didn't you show more initiative? She cozied up to Mr. James and barely had to try. She's surrounded by people eager to cater to her every need. I heard Mr. James himself orchestrated her getting the lead role!"