Part 3He Ruined the Girl Who Saved Him

"But you said you ended up hating him," the host said, her voice cracking slightly. "Was it because he left this world and abandoned you?"

I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. I hadn't expected my casual curse about his grave to be taken so literally.

"No," I replied. The wounds that had once torn me apart had long since healed into numb scars. I looked directly into the camera. "He cheated on me."

Christopher's luck had turned around during our sophomore year when a talent scout discovered him. From then on, his career skyrocketed.

By the time he graduated, his agency pressured him to break up with me before signing a long-term contract. He refused, fighting the executives until they finally agreed to let me join his team as his personal manager.

The first major award he won was for Best Single. The song was called Anna, named after me.

There were no flowers, no diamond rings, and no family members to witness it. In a dusty, empty dressing room backstage, he held up his trophy and asked me to marry him.

"Anna, wait for me," he had pleaded. "Once I secure my place in this industry, I'll give you the grandest wedding. I want to show my wife off to the entire world."

Christopher did keep that promise. It was just that the wife beside him wasn't me.

By our fifth year in the industry, Christopher was an A-list star. We had parted ways with our old agency and established his own independent studio.

During our first round of auditions for new talent, a young girl had stood before Christopher, her eyes shining with admiration.

"Christopher, I've looked up to you for so long," she stammered, tears spilling over her lashes. "Ever since I first saw you on TV when I was a teenager, you've been my inspiration. When my family turned their backs on me, when I was bullied at school, your music kept me alive. Today, I want to perform your award-winning song, Anna."

Hearing her shaky, unpolished voice, I frowned. It wasn't because of her obvious infatuation with Christopher, but because using a sob story during a professional audition felt incredibly manipulative.

There were dozens of candidates who were far more talented and beautiful than her. In the end, she was rejected.

Yet, a month later, Christopher brought her right into my office.

"Anna, Hailey might not be the most talented girl out there, but she's definitely going to work the hardest."

Hailey stood there, looking at me with wide, innocent, and completely sincere eyes.

Seeing my hesitation, Christopher stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His hand slid down to rest gently on my belly. "Looking at her just reminds me of how hard we had it when we were young. Let's help her out. Think of it as a good deed to bring blessings for our baby."

I was only a month pregnant at the time. My heart softened, and I agreed.

I took Hailey under my wing personally, giving her the best resources we had. With Christopher actively mentoring her, she quickly stood out among the rookies.

But then, I accidentally stumbled upon Hailey's private, burner account on social media.

The best birthday present ever!

He said this represents our very first meeting.

He actually gave it to me!

Attached was a photo of the trophy Christopher had used to propose to me.

My hands shook as I reached for the trophy that had sat on my office desk for years. When I picked it up, it felt incredibly light. It was a cheap, plastic replica.

That night, I threw the fake trophy and the screenshots of Hailey's posts onto the desk in front of Christopher.

He glanced at them and gave a dismissive laugh. "She's just a young girl who liked it. I gave it to her to keep her happy." He reached out to pat my shoulder. "You're pregnant, Anna. Don't be so dramatic. It's not good for the baby."

He tried to hug me, but I shoved him away with all my strength.

His face darkened, and he slammed the door as he walked out of the house.

Our cold war began that night. He didn't come home again.

My pregnancy symptoms hit me with brutal force. Morning sickness, severe swelling, and bone-deep exhaustion plagued me daily. Every single time I needed someone to hold my hand, he was gone. My monthly prenatal checkups became lonely solo trips.