Rebirth of the Abandoned Star

Millions of trolls ripped me to shreds online for getting knocked up out of wedlock. They branded me a shameless homewrecker. None of them knew the truth.

I was actually the Alist movie star's hidden, lawful wife of five years.

While I bled out alone on a freezing operating table, my husband stood under blinding spotlights, kissing his first love as he handed her a trophy.

In that exact moment, the last pathetic illusion I held about this joke of a marriage shattered. Chapter 1 On my birthday, I had surgery.

Right before they wheeled me into the OR, the doctor looked around and asked if anyone from my family was coming.

Two young nurses walked past, giggling over some juicy gossip. "Did you see? Tristan and Serena got caught on a date!" "I heard they were each other's first loves.

Do you think they're getting back together?

Ugh, finding your way back to your first love—that's so romantic!" "They seriously need to get married!" Tristan… I hadn't seen him in a long time. A sharp ache pierced my chest.

I lowered my gaze and forced a tight smile at the doctor. "I can handle this on my own." He frowned. "Piper, your condition isn't a minor issue.

Even with your special clearance, it's always best to have a family member by your side." I just smiled and kept my mouth shut.

The love of my life was currently busy keeping another woman company. He didn't have time for me, and I refused to beg for his attention.

Five years into our hidden marriage, it seemed Tristan and I were finally reaching the end of the line. I didn't shed a single tear.

If he refused to treat me like a wife, then starting today, he was dead to me. The surgery lasted three hours and went relatively smoothly.

By the time I woke up, it was pitch black outside. I checked my phone. Surprisingly, the first missed call was from Tristan.

The second I answered, Serena's sickeningly sweet voice filled the line. "Piper! Tristan mentioned it's your birthday today. Happy birthday! He just bought me the most amazing cake.

It was so good! There's half of it left, so I told him to bring it back for you. I hope you don't mind leftovers.

It's just so late, and everywhere is closed, so I couldn't go out and buy you a real present…" Before she could finish her little performance, Tristan took the phone back. "Stop being annoying.

You talk too much." They said the exact same words in perfect unison. Serena scoffed, playfully complaining to him. "I knew you were going to scold me.

You always loved lecturing me back when we were dating. Newsflash, you aren't my boyfriend anymore." Tristan chuckled—a low, deep sound.

In the background, someone started teasing them. "Man, Tristan only acts like a human being when he's around Serena.

You two should just get back together already…" Listening to their sickening flirtation through the speaker, I coldly hit the end button and swiped his number straight to my blocked list.

Tears? He didn't deserve them. I spent three days rotting in that hospital bed before dragging myself up to go back to work.

I was a permanent cast member on the reality show Slow Life, and missing a shoot meant getting hit with massive breach of contract fees.

Word on the set was that we had two guest stars this week. Apparently, they were a highly talkedabout rumored couple. The male guest called the house ahead of time.

His voice was heavily disguised through a voice changer, making it impossible to identify him. "I'm here looking for someone," he said through the speaker. "There's someone I haven't seen in a very long time, and I miss her." Ten minutes later, the front gates of the villa swung open.

Tristan stood there, a devastatingly gentle smile on his face. I froze in my tracks, my arms full of firewood, covered in dust and looking like a complete mess.

He was the mystery guest? Why would he even be here? He despised reality TV. He said he was here looking for someone.

The person he was looking for, the person he missed… who was it? My pulse pounded in my ears, deafening and chaotic.

Then, someone popped their head out from behind his broad shoulders, grinning widely and waving at the cameras. It was Serena. So they were the rumored couple. Of course they were.

Tristan's gaze swept over me—icy, dismissive, and without a single second of hesitation. Chapter 2 Besides me, the show had two other permanent cast members.

Vincent, a highly respected industry veteran with connections everywhere, carried the conversations and hosted.

Cole, an Alist idol with a killer jawline and an eightpack, brought the viral topics and eye candy. As for me? Piper, the Dlist nobody. Unremarkable and painfully average.

I was just the background wallpaper meant to do chores. I still couldn't fathom why a hit reality show bothered casting me as a regular.

Did they just desperately need someone with a food handler's license?

Tristan strode straight toward Vincent, offering a warm handshake. "Vincent, it's been a while." Serena hovered right by his side, beaming as she shook the older man's hand. "It is such an honor to finally meet you, Vincent!

We're shooting our new movie nearby. When Tristan heard you were on set, he insisted on bringing me over to say hi." Serena shot a glance in my direction.

The corners of her lips curled upward in a deliberate, mocking smirk. Tristan was using his untouchable industry status to pave the way for her.

When we first got married, Tristan explicitly told me we had to keep our distance to avoid scandals. For five whole years, he hadn't spoken a single word to me in public.

On the rare occasions we crossed paths at red carpet events, he would just walk past me with his chin held high, treating me like invisible air.

Asking him to pull strings or call in favors for my career? Out of the question. I let out a dry, hollow laugh, my nails digging into my palms. I was delusional.

Why did I ever entertain the thought that the person he missed was me?

As Tristan and Serena settled into the patio chairs, chatting effortlessly with Vincent, a sudden, crystalclear thought materialized in my mind. I want a divorce.

I chased Tristan for three years before finally securing that marriage license five years ago. Back then, I was so ecstatic I practically slept with the paper under my pillow.

I used to wake up in the middle of the night, rubbing my eyes just to make sure the man sleeping next to me was actually him.

Back then, I never dared to imagine that one day, I would be the one walking away. After all, Tristan always held all the cards in our relationship.

As the cameras rolled, Vincent chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "So, those rumors about you two… they're true, right?

Young love is always so sweet." Tristan leaned against the table, his voice perfectly casual. "Fake news." Serena's expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before she burst into a loud, carefree laugh. "Don't misunderstand, Vincent!

Tristan and I are strictly bros. When we used to date, he babied me way too much. If I stayed with him any longer, I would have become useless.

I told myself, no way, I have to be an independent woman." The crew chuckled at her exaggerated tone.

Vincent played along. "Then what kind of guy are you looking for now?" Serena tapped her chin, counting on her fingers. "Tall, handsome, mature.

Someone who loves to read, looks incredibly hot in glasses, and is currently wearing a black shirt and gray slacks…" Tristan let out a low laugh.

He was, coincidentally, wearing glasses, a black buttondown, and gray slacks today.

Vincent laughed too. "You're an interesting girl, Serena." He suddenly turned his attention to me. "Piper, didn't you have Tristan as your phone lock screen?

How come you're so quiet now that your idol is actually sitting right in front of you? Getting shy?" My fingers gripped the edge of the table.

I lifted my chin, catching Tristan staring right at me. His lips curved into a faint, unreadable smirk.

Chapter 3 Serena suddenly spoke up, flashing her phone screen for the table to see. "Do you use Tristan as your lock screen too, Piper? I do! I snuck this picture on set.

I can send it to you if you want…" The photo showed Tristan fast asleep in a chair, with Serena leaning in so close their lips were practically brushing.

It looked exactly like a secret kiss. I offered a polite, empty smile. "What a perfect match." I looked back down and took another bite of my food. Tristan's jaw tightened.

His gaze swept over us before he grabbed his bowl and took a sharp swig of rice wine, looking visibly irritated. After lunch, the director cut the cameras and called for a break.

Working all morning had taken a toll on me. My surgical wound pulled with a sharp, burning sting. I slipped into my room and dug out my painkillers.

Before I could even unscrew the cap, Serena's manager barged in. She crossed her arms, staring down her nose at me. "Serena barely touched her lunch.

Go make her a salad and bring it to her room." Serena had spent the entire meal running her mouth to steal the spotlight. Of course she didn't eat.

The manager lowered her voice, dripping with arrogance. "What kind of attitude is that? Cooking for Serena is a privilege. Do you know who she is?

Once she marries Tristan, people will be begging to wash her dishes. Keep acting like this, and you'll find yourself blacklisted out of the industry!" I let out a cold laugh.

Without a second thought, I chucked my halffull glass of warm water directly into the manager's smug face. "Are her hands broken, or did she lose her mouth?

I'm a regular cast member, not a maid you paid to boss around." Serena heard the commotion and rushed in, frantically dabbing her manager's dripping face with a tissue. "Piper, did we offend you somehow?

We can talk this out. We're all educated professionals here, there's no need to get physical." Tristan strolled in slowly behind her.

He reached back and pushed the door shut with a click, blocking the nosy crew members outside. I let out a sharp laugh, staring dead at Serena. "So you didn't eat well?

And now you want me to make you a custom salad? I just finished cooking a massive meal for five people. Am I supposed to be your personal chef now? Do I look like your mother?

Oh, and I just heard you're marrying the great movie star and getting me blacklisted.

Tell me, how exactly are we supposed to 'talk this out'?" I honestly never wanted to engage with Serena. Fighting over a man was pathetic.

But she kept pushing my buttons, and if I didn't snap back, I'd just be a doormat. Serena clearly didn't expect me to fire back so quickly.

She froze, shooting a quick, helpless glance at Tristan. She took a step toward me, pasting on a kickedpuppy look. "Piper, this is obviously a huge misunderstanding.

Don't get so worked up…" A faint gardenia scent drifted off her clothes. I knew that perfume. It was rare, outrageously expensive, and Tristan had bought a bottle recently.

I had secretly been thrilled for days, assuming it was a surprise gift for me. Once again, I was completely delusional. My stomach churned.

I put a hand up, physically blocking her from taking another step. "Do me a favor and back up. You smell nauseating, and I'm about to throw up." Serena's face stiffened.

She forced an awkward smile and took two steps back. Tristan stared at me, his face an unreadable mask of ice. "Piper," he said, his voice flat and commanding. "You crossed a line.

Apologize." Chapter 4 I stared dead at him, my eyes dry and overflowing with pure mockery.

I slapped away the hand he extended toward me, following it up with a resounding slap directly across his face. "Don't you ever fucking touch me," I snapped. "You make me sick." Serena and her manager froze.

Once the shock wore off, they watched me with gleeful anticipation, like they were enjoying a frontrow seat to my execution.

In or out of the industry, nobody dared lay a finger on Tristan. You had to have a death wish to cross a man with his kind of power. His head jerked to the side from the impact.

His jaw clenched tightly, a muscle ticking along his cheek. The sudden movement ripped at my surgical wound.

It felt like a jagged knife twisting directly into my chest, forcing me to double over in agony. My hands trembled violently as I fumbled for my painkillers, dryswallowing a pill.

Tristan abruptly snatched the pill bottle from my shaking fingers. His face darkened as he read the label. He ignored the fact that I had just slapped him. "Painkillers?

Where does it hurt?" My face drained of all color. I gripped the edge of the table, dragging myself upright and stumbling toward the bed. "None of your damn business.

Take Serena and get the hell out." He gripped my arm, his eyes practically feral. "Who gave you permission to work like this? Do I not make enough fucking money to keep you at home?

You have two choices. Either you walk out to the car with me, or I throw you over my shoulder and carry you." Carry me? Here? Yeah, right.

He had spent the last five years dodging me like the plague in public just to maintain his pristine image. There was zero chance he'd risk a scandal for me now.

I ripped my arm out of his grasp, spitting out every word with venom. "I said, get out." Before the last syllable even left my mouth, the floor vanished from beneath my feet.

Tristan actually hoisted me over his broad shoulder like a goddamn barbarian claiming his prize.

The second he stepped out of the room, every single camera and crew member turned to stare. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.

Without hesitating, I brought my heavy boot down hard against his shin.

He let out a muffled grunt of pain. "Get your filthy hands off me," I warned, my voice dripping with ice. "Touch me again, and see what happens." Tristan ignored the threat and shoved me into the passenger seat of his SUV.

The violent manhandling tore my surgical wound wide open. Fresh blood soaked through my shirt. His expression instantly turned to ice.

Before I could stop him, his hand shot out, tearing the fabric of my collar aside to expose the raw, bruised twoinch incision on my chest. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!" I swung at him, but he easily caught both my wrists in one hand, pinning them down.

He glared at me, but the sheer aggression in his voice suddenly cracked. "Can you… can you just take care of yourself for once? You ignored my calls.

You pull this disappearing act." His grip tightened slightly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were having surgery?

Am I dead to you, Piper?" He ground his teeth together, doing a phenomenal job of faking genuine heartache. What a performance. I let out a bitter laugh, yanking my shirt back up.

I curled into the leather seat and shut my eyes, shutting him out. Two weeks ago, my doctor found a lump in my breast.

It was large enough that they needed to cut it out immediately for a biopsy to check for cancer.

After scheduling the surgery, I sat in my car for an hour before finally dialing Tristan's number. Right before it went to voicemail, he picked up. "Yeah.

What is it?" His deep voice was clipped and impatient. That single, dismissive "yeah" perfectly summarized our entire fiveyear marriage.

A massive lump formed in my throat, choking off my air as hot tears spilled over my lashes. My brain was a chaotic mess.

I didn't know how to form the words to tell him I might have breast cancer. I didn't know how to tell him I might be dying. "I'm sick…" I barely managed to whisper.

Before I could finish my sentence, Serena's whining voice echoed through the speaker. "Tristan, if you don't come over here right now, I'm actually going to be mad." I heard Tristan chuckle softly. "Hold on," he told me through the phone. "I'll call you back later." The line went dead.

I stared at the black screen of my phone, a suffocating, unprecedented wave of absolute disappointment swallowing me whole. Chapter 5 Midnight came and went.

The screen of my phone remained pitch black. Why was I always the one left waiting in the dark for him? No more. I was done waiting.

After getting my stitches redressed, Tristan drove me straight home. His phone buzzed relentlessly in the console until he finally ripped it out and powered it off.

I lay in bed, rolling over to face the empty wall. "Go deal with your mess," I told him, my voice dead.

The companionship I had starved for all these years didn't even matter anymore. "Go to sleep." A heavy beat of silence passed. "I won't hang up on you again." He pulled the duvet up to my shoulders, turned, and walked out.

I was exhausted. I slept like a corpse until nine that night. When I dragged myself out of the bedroom, Tristan was still there.

He leaned against the floortoceiling windows in the dark living room, one hand shoved in his pocket, a cigarette clamped between his lips.

It was a raw, dangerous look only I ever got to see. The glowing orange cherry of his cigarette was the only light in the pitchblack room. "Hungry?

I made food." He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and started toward me. My nails bit into my palms.

I locked my eyes on his and dropped the bomb. "I want a divorce." Tristan stopped dead in his tracks.

A dark, dismissive chuckle rumbled in his chest, like I had just told a hilarious joke. "Reason?" he asked smoothly.

I stared him down, not giving a single inch. "Because you make me sick to my stomach. Is that reason enough?" He closed the distance between us in three long strides.

His large hand reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear before his rough palm settled firmly against my jaw.

His thumb brushed over my cheek. "Piper," his voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. "When we got married, we vowed for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

Until death do us part. If we aren't even afraid of death, what the hell does disgust matter?" He leaned in closer, his dark eyes stripping me bare. "So, my sweet wife.

Your reason is denied." We had a massive blowout that night. Or rather, I tore the house apart screaming at him, and he just stood there and took it.

I couldn't figure out his twisted logic. He clearly didn't love me anymore, so why the hell was he clinging to this toxic marriage just to torture us both?

The next morning, I texted the director of Slow Life to apologize for the scene I caused.

He replied almost immediately, his tone dripping with sickening politeness as he fired me. [Piper, I had no idea about your relationship with Mr. Tristan!

Please forgive us if we slighted you in any way. Mr. Tristan informed us that you haven't been feeling well lately.

He insisted you need plenty of rest…] Blind with rage, I dialed Tristan's number.

He picked up on the first ring, like a predator sitting by the phone waiting for his trap to snap shut.

I demanded to know what gave him the right to sabotage my career. "Is it really that bad having me pay for your entire life?" he shot back casually. "I'm divorcing you, Tristan.

Stop acting like a possessive psycho, because it's not going to work," I snapped. "If you won't sign the papers, I'll see you in court." A chilling laugh echoed through the receiver. "You're welcome to try." Over the next two weeks, every single one of my gigs vanished into thin air.

I was blacklisted. Tristan was punishing me, putting me in timeout like a disobedient pet. I refused to roll over.

I hustled, hitting up every contact I had, only to be met with the exact same pathetic excuse: "I'm so sorry, Piper." Filing for divorce was just as impossible.

Every highpowered attorney I consulted miraculously dropped my case within fortyeight hours of taking it. He was probably sitting in his penthouse, laughing his head off.

Watching me thrash around like a clown trapped in a cage must have been the highlight of his week. He didn't love me.

He was just a control freak who couldn't stomach the thought of anyone daring to walk away from his absolute control. Chapter 6 Day ten of my cold war with Tristan.

I got a callback for the final audition of the movie Painted Illusions. I literally rolled around on my bed in excitement.

The production was a massive blockbuster—Alist director, toptier cast, and backed by heavy foreign investment.

That was probably the only reason Tristan's dirty hands couldn't reach it to sabotage me. A thrill of triumph surged through my veins.

In this twisted war against him, I had finally scored a point. I ran into Serena at the audition studio. She waltzed right up to me, putting on her best fakefriendly smile. "Piper!

Are you auditioning for the female lead too?" She batted her eyelashes. "You're such an amazing actress.

Promise you'll go easy on me later!" Her manager let out a snide, mocking laugh. "Piper obviously isn't here for the lead.

The lead doesn't require acting skills; it requires star power." She patted Serena's arm. "Besides, Serena, didn't Mr. Tristan tell you to just have fun with it?

The lead is already yours. Stop stressing." I snapped my script shut.

I decided to spare exactly sixty seconds of my time to drag her back to reality. "I'm filing for divorce from Tristan," I stated flatly. "Did you know that?" Her eyes instantly lit up with greedy anticipation.

I let out a sharp laugh. "But, he refuses to sign." The disappointment crashing over her face was painfully obvious. I stood up, towering over her by a solid halfhead.

I jammed my index finger hard against her forehead, forcing her to stumble backward step by step. "Serena," I sneered, staring down at her. "If you actually have any game, you'll make Tristan sign those divorce papers immediately so he can finally collect his trash.

Until then, don't you realize you're just another pathetic homewrecker desperately seeking validation?" I tilted my head, my tone pure ice. "You want to know why I never bother entertaining your little stunts?

Because you're cheap." Her face flushed a humiliated, violent crimson.

I pulled a sanitizing wipe from my bag, meticulously wiped the finger that touched her, and tossed the tissue into the nearest trash can without looking back.

Painted Illusions was a period piece set in the roaring twenties, revolving around the tragic romances of a playboy artist. The male lead was the young heir to a wealthy tycoon.

When he was eighteen, his father married a stunningly beautiful young concubine. Her seductive, languid gaze constantly drove the young heir out of his mind.

Trapped within the suffocating walls of the massive estate, the two of them embarked on a taboo, illicit affair. She was his sexual awakening.

She was the one who taught him how to love. The role I was auditioning for was that young concubine.

It wasn't a massive part, but the character was incredibly raw, vivid, and full of depth.

I was sitting in the waiting area, mentally prepping, when a sudden rush of heat brushed against the shell of my ear. "Piper," a low, dangerously magnetic voice whispered, the breath ghosting over my skin.

My pulse jumped. I whipped my head around to find Cole standing impossibly close. Rumor had it he was already locked in as the male lead. He was five years younger than me.

Back when we were shooting Slow Life, he used to follow me around like a lost puppy, constantly sticking to my side and calling my name.

Back then, I genuinely just saw him as a clingy younger brother. But today… today, his dark eyes were locked onto mine, completely stripped of that innocent boyish charm.

There was something undeniably predatory lurking in his gaze.

It was the exact same way the young heir looked at his father's concubine—waiting until they were hidden in the shadows to whisper to her.

Waiting until no one was watching to tease her, seduce her, and claim her with absolute, suffocating possession.

I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself to snap out of the trance. I pasted on a casual smile to greet him. His lips curved into a wicked, knowing smirk.

His eyes dropped to my lips. "Have you recovered from your illness?" he murmured. "Your face is so red." A shiver ran down my spine. Those were the exact lines from the script.

Chapter 7 The audition scene was exactly the part where the young concubine faked an illness to sneak out and play. Cole was reading opposite me for this scene.

The concubine loved the water, so she fled to Crescent Lake on the outskirts of the city for a swim.

Whether by deliberate design or sheer coincidence, the young heir happened to be there sketching.

The sheer fabric clung to the woman's soaking wet body, tracing every intoxicating curve, turning her into the most lethal poison of the summer.

Standing on the shore, the young heir watched her in absolute silence, the dark desire pooling in his eyes growing dangerously thick.

Once she had her fill of the water, she drifted back to the bank, scurrying like a thief into the hidden cave where she'd stashed her clothes.

The young heir followed her in, willingly stepping right into the fox's perfectly woven trap. At first, when she spotted him, she feigned frantic panic.

He sat down right next to her, and she blushed deeply, inching away to put some space between them. Suddenly, the young heir's hand shot out, his fingers gripping her jaw.

He leaned in, utterly mocking. He wasn't in any rush to kiss her. He just scolded her softly. "Hiding from me? Where exactly do you think you can hide?

Piper, you've been very bad lately." Cole used his broad shoulders to completely block my line of sight.

His knuckles brushed against my skin as his long, defined fingers tilted my chin up.

The sheer, aggressive wave of his pure alpha pheromones pinned me dead against the back of the chair. The heavy studio door suddenly swung open.

Tristan strolled in, casually taking the empty seat right next to the director. "My apologies. I'm late," he said with a smooth smile.

His icy gaze swept over Cole before finally landing dead on me. He curled his lips into a sinister smirk—like a sadistic cat playing with a hopelessly naive mouse.

That was the exact moment the realization hit me like a physical blow: Tristan was one of the executive producers of Painted Illusions. He did this on purpose.

He was waiting to watch me fight back with everything I had, just so he could crush me with a single flick of his finger. He was actively trying to break my spirit.

I froze in the chair, a gaping hole ripped open in my chest. A phantom, freezing draft howled through the cavity, chilling my blood to ice.

Cole's thumb suddenly pressed into the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. His gravelly voice floated directly into my ear. "Piper. Focus.

This is the part where you kiss me." Wait. The audition scene was supposed to end right there.

Before I could even process the deviation, his breath fanned across my lips. "Or, I could kiss you. That works too." That