Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

[Iceland Cafe, let's talk.] It was from Faye.

I had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to discuss. And I wasn't about to back down.

The Iceland Cafe she mentioned was right across from the beauty center.

I walked in and scanned the place.

Faye, sitting in the corner, waved me over.

The cafe had a cozy vibe, but she was wearing these huge sunglasses, probably to avoid getting recognized.

I walked over, pulled out the chair across from her, and sat down.

When the waiter came by, I ordered an orange juice. Coffee's not my thing.

Faye was stirring her coffee with a small spoon, her fingers pale and slender, nails painted black. It was kind of sexy, honestly.

I was actually relieved she had those big sunglasses on; facing that Fiona-like face would've been tough.

My orange juice arrived, but I didn't touch it. I just looked at her and asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

Faye's light pink lips parted slightly, showing her neat white teeth. She put down the spoon, took a sip of her coffee, added two more sugar cubes, and kept stirring. "Let's talk about Ethan," she said slowly.

I kinda knew this was coming when I got her text.

Since she had gone through all that surgery to look like Fiona, her intentions were pretty clear.

I couldn't see her eyes through the sunglasses, but her tone and the smirk on her lips screamed arrogance.

I glanced at her. "Talk about my husband? I know he's helped you a lot. No need to thank him; he's just a helpful guy."

"Helpful?" Faye chuckled softly, grabbed a napkin, and dabbed at the corner of her mouth. "Emily, stop fooling yourself."

She used to act all sweet in front of Ethan. Now that it was just us, Faye didn't bother pretending.

Every time she called me Emily, it gave me goosebumps. I'd rather she just called me Bitch; it felt more natural.

"Do you think Ethan loves you or Fiona?"

That question hit me hard. The sad truth was I didn't know the answer.

But I couldn't let her see that, so I forced a smile.

"Ethan did love Fiona once, but that's in the past. And he loved Fiona, not you. Do you think just because you have Fiona's face, he can transfer his love to you?" Faye's lips curled up, and she gently caressed her perfectly manicured nails.

"You don't get it. Ethan has a deep and enduring love. I'm not Fiona, but at least I have her face. You have no idea how much he suffered after my sister died, how much he wished Fiona were still alive." My heart was breaking, but I kept up the sneer.

"But Fiona is dead. I admit he's loyal to love, which is a mark of a good man. But he's wise and calm; he's not someone who deceives himself, and he certainly wouldn't look at your face to fool himself." Faye's smile faltered as she slammed her hands on the table, drawing curious glances.

I crossed my arms and calmly stared, thinking she, as a third party, had no right to be more indignant than I was.

Realizing her outburst, Faye, afraid of losing her image in public, adjusted her sunglasses and lowered her voice.

"Do you really want to fight me to the end? If you step aside, it might look better for you. If you're kicked out, it won't be pretty."

Faye was so arrogant and confident. I didn't understand where it came from.

Was it because of Ethan's love for her?

Or was it because of her face?

My trembling hands had nowhere to go, so I clutched my handbag tightly, trying to stay calm.

"Whether I get kicked out or not is none of your business."

Faye's smile widened, warm and gentle like a spring day. She said lightly, "I heard you are infertile? Do you think someone like Ethan, from a family like his, doesn't need children?"

I didn't know where she had heard that, but Faye had hit a sore spot, like a heavy stone pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Seeing my distress, Faye looked pleased with herself. She took out her purse, pulled out a few bills, and placed them on the table.

"My treat."

Faye adjusted her clothes, picked up her bag, pushed up her sunglasses, and walked away with long, proud strides.

I sat there stiffly, unable to snap out of it for a long time.

"Emily, is that really you?"

A voice suddenly sounded in my ear, and then someone sat down in the seat Faye had just vacated.

It was my middle school classmate, Nora Jones, who now worked as a receptionist at the beauty center in Aurora.

Although we weren't close in school, we saw each other often now, so we had become quite friendly.

She blinked at me, full of curiosity.

"Emily, who was that woman sitting with you just now? She looked so familiar!"

I didn't say anything, and she suddenly got all excited, pointing out the window. "That's her! Who is she? She has such a great figure. Even with sunglasses, you can tell she's beautiful. I think she's some celebrity, but I can't remember who." "Faye," I said.

Nora's eyes widened. "Is she really Faye?"

Could Nora possibly know her?

"Is she the Faye who was in that 'Youth Sings Loudly' competition?" Nora asked.

I nodded, and Nora lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Wow, it's really her! I liked her a lot during the competition. She was so pretty and sang so well. It's a bummer Aurora didn't pick her, and she got eliminated. But with her talent, she was bound to get noticed. She's doing great now-I even saw her on a show recently. She looks even more beautiful, though a bit different. She used to have a sweet, innocent look. But now she looks more mature. Some say she had plastic surgery, but I doubt it. She was already so pretty; did she really need it?"

Nora was on a roll, talking non-stop. I just sat there, not saying a word.

"I heard her new drama is coming to Starlight City for promotion soon. I want to take a day off to see her. Maybe I can get an autograph or a photo with her. Want to come with me?" Nora looked at me, eyes full of excitement. I still didn't respond, and she finally noticed my silence.

"By the way, she was having coffee with you. Do you know her? Are you friends?"

Nora's voice got louder with each question, and she suddenly grabbed my hand in excitement.

"Emily, can you get me an autograph?"

I was speechless. Nora was almost thirty, yet she chased celebrities like a teenager.

"We're not friends," I said.

"Then how could she be having coffee with you?" Nora pressed.

I figured many people admired Faye, but they only saw her outer beauty and media persona. They didn't know she was after someone else's husband. She wasn't as admirable as they thought.

Back at the beauty center, I couldn't focus because I missed Ethan so much. So, I decided to go to Skyline International to see him, even though I'd see him at home later.

I got on the bus, which was empty at first, but more people boarded as we entered the city.

A man helped a pregnant woman onto the bus, and she stood next to me. I gave her my seat, and she thanked me shyly. I smiled and said it was no problem, holding onto the handrail and glancing at her belly.

"If you're sleepy, lean on me," the man said gently, pulling the woman's head to rest on his shoulder.

The woman closed her eyes, one hand on her belly and the other holding the man's hand, looking blissfully happy.

Men cherish women who bear their children because their wombs carry their flesh and blood.

But would a man love an infertile woman? Would he love her for a lifetime?

When he saw other people's children bringing joy to their parents, wouldn't he feel a bit envious? When he grew old and had no children to keep him company, would he feel lonely and resentful? Thinking about all this made me feel overwhelmed.

I couldn't bear children for Ethan, yet I insisted on staying by his side, unwilling to leave. I felt like a sinner.

At the entrance of Skyline International Corporation, I unexpectedly ran into Richard.

He was wearing a suit and tie today, looking different from usual.

"Hey, what a coincidence!" Richard smiled.

I ignored him and kept walking inside, and he followed me in.

"Mr. Richard Windsor!" I heard everyone calling him that.

Finally, we both stood at the elevator.

The elevator arrived, and a woman stepped out, also calling, "Mr. Richard Windsor."

"Wait a minute," Richard called out to her.

I walked into the elevator, intending to leave first, but Richard stuck his foot in the door, preventing it from closing.

The woman stopped obediently, looking awkward and embarrassed.

Richard, as if suddenly understanding, said, "Oh, I get it. There's already a Mr. Ethan Windsor. Alright, I'll reluctantly accept this title then."

The woman nodded as if granted amnesty. "Yes, Mr. Richard Windsor. I'll be going now."

She turned and fled, her face red.

Richard stepped into the elevator. I pressed the button for the top floor, and he pressed for the 12th floor.

"Why do they call you that?"

Everyone's address and Richard's formal attire made me suspicious.

Richard, smugly shaking his head, said, "Because I'm now the general manager of Skyline International Corporation."

"Why?" I glared at him.

I knew Skyline International Corporation was built by Ethan's hard work. How could someone as idle as Richard take the position of general manager? "Why? Ask Ethan. He probably feels indebted to me. After all, I went to jail because of him. Didn't he tell you?"