Jean Bell’s expression faltered for a moment. Then, she turned to Yvonne Sutton, her eyes deep and cold. A moment later, she chuckled and pulled the book from Yvonne’s hand.

"You can just think of it as a story."

"Clearly, it’s not," Yvonne Sutton said.

"I’m not the madwoman in the book."

"But I *am* the woman who showed up in Wyatt Shaw’s life."

Jean Bell fell silent. Her smile vanished as she said earnestly, "If you want to know about his past, I can tell you."

Yvonne Sutton shook her head. "If I want to know, I can ask him myself. I don’t need to pry into it through someone else."

"What if he’s forgotten?"

Yvonne Sutton frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Flipping through the book, Jean Bell said with a helpless sigh, "The male protagonist in this book lost his fiancée in a car accident. He suffered both physical and psychological trauma, leading to mental health issues. He forgot everything about his fiancée, forgot who he used to be. But it wasn’t a complete memory loss. Those dead memories can suddenly resurface to torture him—and the people around him."

"Are you saying Wyatt Shaw..."

"I’m talking about the book’s protagonist." Jean Bell shrugged with a smile. "You may not know this, but even novels based on real people and events add a certain amount of artistic license."

Yvonne Sutton turned away, her gaze falling. Her expression remained calm, but inside, her thoughts were a tangled mess.

’So Wyatt Shaw has psychological problems. He didn’t deliberately hide his fiancée from me; he forgot. No wonder... No wonder he acted so strangely those few times. No wonder David Sutton resents him for being so heartless.’

"Last night, what was that piece of paper you gave Wyatt Shaw?" Yvonne Sutton asked.

Jean Bell raised an eyebrow. "I thought you’d ask about him and his fiancée."

"I told you, if I want to know about his past, I’ll ask him myself."

"Fine. I didn’t really want to talk about it anyway. After all, it’s one of my scars too." Jean Bell paused, then said, "It was a psychological evaluation from his doctors in Country M. They recommended that he get regular follow-up assessments."

"Why does he need follow-up assessments?"

"You don’t actually think he’s a normal person, do you?"

"Of course he is."

"Fine. That’s just because you haven’t seen what he’s like when he has an episode."

’What he’s like when he has an episode?’

Yvonne Sutton looked at Jean Bell, finding it hard to imagine such a scene.

Jean Bell let out a soft breath. "It’s terrifying. So terrifying that, despite how much I loved him, I had to give up on him."

Just then, Claire Lawrence came down the stairs. She was so excited that she didn’t even notice Jean Bell.

"Yvonne, I passed the audition! They want me!"

Yvonne Sutton reined in her chaotic thoughts, stood up, and took Claire Lawrence’s arm to introduce her to Jean Bell.

When Claire Lawrence heard Jean was the show’s screenwriter and executive producer, she immediately grew flustered, half-bowing as she shook Jean Bell’s hand.

Jean Bell smiled at her. "Miss Lawrence, I look forward to having you on board. We’ll talk again soon."

Jean Bell shook Claire Lawrence’s hand, then turned her gaze back to Yvonne Sutton.

"Mrs. Shaw, we’ll be seeing each other again."

With that, she headed upstairs.

Yvonne Sutton saw the book was still lying on the chair. She bent down and picked it up.

"Oh, that’s right. The book is a gift for you, Mrs. Shaw," Jean Bell said from the stairs, her expression full of insinuation.

Yvonne Sutton, however, slid the book back onto the shelf and offered a slight smile. "Thank you for the kind thought, Miss Bell, but I’m not in the mood to read this book at the moment."

"As you wish. The truth is seldom pleasant, after all."

Claire Lawrence was still buzzing with excitement as they left Jean Bell’s studio.

"You have no idea how nervous I was. I even forgot my lines halfway through! But the assistant director was so nice; he gave me a chance to calm my nerves and start over." Claire Lawrence patted her chest. "I don’t think I performed at my best, but thank goodness I passed the audition."

Yvonne Sutton hummed in response, but Jean Bell’s words were replaying in her mind, and she hadn’t really heard anything Claire was saying.

"Did you pull some strings for me?"

"Huh?"

Yvonne Sutton snapped out of it and patted Claire Lawrence’s arm. "You need to have faith in your own acting."

Claire Lawrence hugged Yvonne Sutton’s arm. "Oh, I’m confident in my acting, don’t worry. But in this business, talent isn’t enough to make it. You need backing. Yvonne, thank you for being my backer."

Yvonne Sutton smiled. "It’s my honor."

Joshua Hale invited them both for a drink at his tavern, but Yvonne Sutton really wasn’t in the mood. She told Claire to go on without her and headed back to the villa.

Emerging from the subway station, Yvonne Sutton walked on, bracing herself against the biting late-winter wind.

’She didn’t know how to face Wyatt Shaw. Should she pretend she knew nothing, or confront him and get all the answers? If she pretended, would she just be lying to herself? But if she demanded the truth, would it shatter the life they had now?’

’What was she supposed to do?’

As she reached a fork in the road, the old woman from before came running frantically toward her.

"Miss Sutton! Miss Sutton! C-can you help me?"

Her hair was a mess, and the front of her clothes was soaked. Her lower lip looked like it had been bitten, and blood was trickling from it. She ran right up to Yvonne, clasping her hands together in a plea.

"I was just giving my son a bath, and he... he suddenly slipped under the water in the tub! I... I can’t pull him up!"

Hearing this, Yvonne Sutton immediately told the old woman to lead the way.

It was not a short walk. By the time the old woman led her to a dilapidated rental house, five or six minutes had passed.

’That meant her son had been underwater for at least ten minutes.’ 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

’But...’

"Why didn’t you ask someone else for help?"

’Literally anyone would have been closer than running all this way to find me, right?’

"No one will help me," the old woman said, her voice hoarse. "They all say we’re filthy. They won’t set foot in my home."

The old woman entered the rental unit first, and Yvonne Sutton followed close behind.

The moment she stepped inside, however, the stench of urine assaulted her. The small rental unit was piled high with junk, looking more like a landfill. Now she understood what the old woman had said. No wonder the neighbors considered the mother and son to be filthy.

Yvonne Sutton took it in with a single glance before hurrying after the old woman into the bathroom.

"Son! Son, don’t you scare your mother!"

The bathroom floor was covered in water. Yvonne Sutton stepped inside, and when she saw the bathtub, she gasped.

The old woman’s disabled son was fully submerged in the water, utterly still and silent.

After the initial shock, Yvonne Sutton told the old woman to take her son’s legs while she took his torso. Together, they managed to haul him out of the water and lay him on the floor outside the bathroom.

She immediately started CPR, pressing on his chest again and again, praying for a miracle.

"Is he dead?" the old woman suddenly asked.

Yvonne Sutton didn’t answer, continuing her efforts.

"It’s better if he’s dead. At least he won’t have to suffer anymore."

Hearing this, Yvonne Sutton looked up at the old woman. The panic and fear were gone from her face, replaced by a calm as still as stagnant water.

Yvonne Sutton’s mind raced. She said, "Given his condition, you should have taken precautions when you were bathing him."

"I did it on purpose."

Yvonne Sutton froze, staring at the old woman in disbelief.