Chapter 2The Unfinished Script

Halfway through the dinner, I finally found a chance to escape to the restroom.

Cold water splashed on my burning face. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked pathetic. It was a complete reversal of our positions four years ago.

Four years. It felt like a lifetime.

Back then, his roommate called me, begging me to come see him.

I couldn't resist. I went.

Caleb was drinking at a street stall, surrounded by seven or eight empty bottles.

When he saw me, he instinctively smiled, then realized what was happening and grabbed my arm.

"Lana." He buried his face in my palm. His tears were hot, burning my skin.

His voice was hoarse, begging. "Please don't go. Don't break up with me, okay?"

I only hesitated for a second before pulling my hand away firmly.

"No."

I remember exactly what I said. "Caleb, I'm tired.

"I can't pretend to like you for even one more second."

I stared blankly at the mirror, suddenly hearing voices from the stalls.

"What's the deal with Mr. Thorne and that Lana girl? Is he really going to drop the investment because of her?"

"So annoying. She's just a small-time author. She sold the rights, got her money, why did she have to come to this dinner? Was she aiming for Mr. Thorne?"

"Maybe Mr. Thorne hates her because she tried to sleep her way to the top and failed. Hehe."

It was two production assistants. They seemed to be just touching up their makeup. Their voices faded as they left.

A second later, their laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by nervous stammering. "Mr... Mr. Thorne."

Silence.

Two seconds later, one of them gathered the courage to speak. "Mr. Thorne, we'll head back now."

Caleb's voice was low, laced with ice. "Don't bother.

"I'll have HR contact you later."

The implication was clear. The two girls, who had been laughing a moment ago, started begging quietly, like chickens with their necks wrung.

Caleb didn't say another word, true to his reputation in the business world.

The Midas touch. Cold and heartless.