No More Starlight for Him

"Sir! The patient just had a miscarriage. Who is her medical proxy?!" The nurse handed the surgical consent form to Julian Sterling, but his expression changed drastically the moment he answered a call. "Chloe took a fall! Nothing can happen to her baby!" He abandoned me, severely injured and unconscious, rushing out of the hospital without looking back. It wasn't until I woke up that Harrison Croft told me I hadn't just lost a child. "You were carrying twins." "The long-term medication and that fall from the building ruined your uterus. Charlotte, you will never be able to conceive again." I stared at the ultrasound photo Chloe Somerset sent to my phone, and suddenly laughed. "Julian came to accompany me and the baby. You won't blame him, will you?" Of course not. After all, how could a liar and a mistress ever deserve my tears? I wiped away the tears on my face and dialed Harrison Croft's number. "Within seven days, I want them utterly ruined." "And reclaim all of the hundred-billion-dollar inheritance I inherited." "What they owe me, I want them to pay back with their lives." Charlotte Vance's POV Midtown Manhattan, New York. Inside a penthouse conference room of a top Wall Street law firm. Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, dark clouds loomed over the city, and a violent rainstorm was brewing. The indoor AC was running high. Clad in a black trench coat, I sat on a wide leather sofa, quickly flipping through the hundred-page Asset Inheritance Confirmation Document in my hands. Across from me, Zachary Ward took off his gold-rimmed glasses. He was the most senior estate inheritance partner at this law firm. "Ms. Vance, you are the beneficiary of this will. The testator is Arthur Vance." He paused, lightly tapping the tabletop with the temple arm of his glasses. "He passed away two weeks ago. He had been looking for you for twenty years. You two never got to meet." I sat there in silence. Putting his glasses back on, Mr. Ward flipped to the first page of the document, his voice returning to a professional, level tone. "According to the will, his assets include sixty-seven percent of the shares of the Vance Group, seven real estate properties domestically and abroad, and three offshore trust funds. A conservative estimate puts their value at over a hundred billion." "All of this is to be inherited by you. You are the sole legal primary heir." With that, he closed the document and looked at me. I lowered my eyes, hiding the bitterness swirling deep within them. I was an orphan. Growing up in an orphanage, I endured countless hardships before finally carving out a path for myself in the entertainment industry. At twenty-two, I became a Grand Slam Best Actress. Yet, at the peak of my glory, I met Julian Sterling. Back then, Julian was nothing more than a rising idol actor with only a pretty face to show for it, suppressed by the industry and deeply frustrated. He used to kneel outside my door in a torrential downpour, begging for an opportunity. When I was sick, he would stay awake all night to watch over me, swearing with bloodshot eyes, "Charlotte, as long as you help me, my life belongs to you. I will treat you well for the rest of my life." And I believed him. Thus, I resolutely retired from showbiz to become his housewife, laying all the connections, resources, and scripts I had painstakingly accumulated over the years right at Julian's feet. For seven years, I gave him my all without reservation, finally turning Julian into the youngest Grand Slam Best Actor in the showbiz circle. "Mr. Ward, about the assets under my name, according to our postnuptial agreement..." Pulling back my thoughts, I handed over the marriage certificate I had brought with me. "Does my husband, Julian, need to go through any notarization procedures?" Mr. Ward took the marriage certificate, glanced at it, and his brow suddenly furrowed deeply. He gestured for his assistant to come over and whispered a few instructions. Ten minutes later, the assistant hurried in holding an investigation report, his face pale. "Ms. Vance..." Zachary Ward took a deep breath, pushing both the marriage certificate and the report toward me. His voice carried an undeniable heaviness. "This hundred-billion-dollar inheritance belongs entirely to you as an individual. Because in the eyes of the law, your current marital status is—unmarried."Charlotte Vance's POV A buzzing sound exploded in my head. I stared at him in disbelief, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me. I snapped my head up, my voice hoarse. "What did you say?! Please say that again." "Ms. Vance, what I mean is... this marriage certificate is a fake. There is absolutely no record of a registration for you and Mr. Julian Sterling in the City Hall database." Zachary Ward looked at my face, which had turned instantly pale, and reluctantly continued, "Furthermore, we found during our background check that Mr. Julian Sterling is already legally married. And his lawful wife is the popular starlet, Chloe Somerset." I stared intently at the investigation report stamped by the City Hall. The names "Julian Sterling" and "Chloe Somerset" printed side-by-side pierced my eyes. On Valentine's Day seven years ago, Julian took me to a remote notary public office. He said that to avoid paparazzi, celebrities registered through a special channel rather than going through the public City Hall process. That day, someone took our photo, someone stamped a document, and they even solemnly recited what sounded like vows. ...As it turned out, it was all a lie! It was a seven-year-long scam, a meticulously planned conspiracy! "Ms. Vance?" Mr. Ward called out with concern. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the vulnerability in them had been replaced by a chilling, dead silence. I grabbed the pen from the desk and signed my name on the inheritance confirmation document, my pen tip nearly ripping through the paper. "I understand. Keep today's matters strictly confidential." Half an hour later, at the VIP corridor of New York International Airport. Wearing a black cap and a mask, I hid in the shadows at the end of the corridor. Today was the day Julian Sterling was returning to the country after wrapping up his shoot with an overseas crew. For seven years, whenever he returned, I would pick him up in person, rain or shine. A commotion arose near the exit. Julian Sterling, wearing a haute couture trench coat and sunglasses, walked out flanked by a crowd of bodyguards. He was as handsome as ever—after all, he was a perfect masterpiece sculpted by seven years of my blood, sweat, and tears. Right then, a petite figure dashed out from the corridor on the other side, like a graceful butterfly, throwing herself straight into Julian's arms. It was Chloe Somerset, "the Nation's Sweetheart," who had skyrocketed to fame with her pure, sensible, and frugal persona. Instead of pushing her away, Julian expertly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He lowered his head, pulled down his mask, and kissed Chloe passionately in a blind spot of the bustling VIP corridor. Chloe stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling like a cat that had successfully stolen a treat. Standing behind a pillar ten meters away, my blood ran ice-cold. My stomach churned violently, a wave of physical revulsion surging up my throat. *Bzzz—* The phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated. I pulled it out mechanically. The screen flashed with "Hubby". Tapping it open, it was a ten-second voice message. Julian's deep, affectionate, and slightly weary voice rang in my ear. "Charlotte, I just landed. I miss you so much. The crew has absolutely exhausted me these past few months. I pushed back tonight's celebratory banquet and I'm heading straight home now. I just want to hold my only baby. Wait for me." Up ahead, Julian tucked his phone back into his pocket with a smile right after sending the message. He leaned in to whisper intimately into Chloe's ear, making her coyly punch his chest. I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned a stark, terrifying white. A single tear fell onto the screen, shattering into countless droplets. I didn't rush out to confront them, nor did I break down and cry on the spot. I just stood there quietly, watching the backs of that wretched couple as they walked away in each other's arms, my eyes growing colder and sharper by the second, like blades dipped in poison.Charlotte Vance's POV Night fell over our luxurious villa in Manhattan's Upper East Side. This was the marital house I shared with Julian. Every piece of furniture, every painting in the house, and even every single rose in the garden had been handpicked and planted by me. I once thought of this place as a warm haven, but now, it felt like nothing more than a gorgeous tomb. At 8:00 PM, the sound of the digital lock echoed from the front door. Julian walked in, carrying a faint scent of crisp, cool cologne. Seeing me sitting on the sofa in the dark, he quickly walked over, wrapping me in a tight embrace, and expertly nuzzled his chin against my neck. "Wifey, where did you go today? Why didn't you come to the airport to pick me up? I thought you were mad at me." Julian's voice was sweet enough to drown in. If I hadn't witnessed that scene with my own eyes a few hours ago, I might have been fooled by him yet again. I sat there stiffly, suppressing the urge to shove him away. My voice was as flat and calm as still water. "I wasn't feeling very well, so I went to see a doctor." Julian's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, but he quickly recovered his composure. He touched my forehead with concern. "What's wrong? Have you been too tired lately?" At this point, he paused, his tone becoming earnest and serious. "Charlotte, what did the doctor say? Didn't we agree before to remain child-free? I don't want a child to ruin our life as a couple. Please don't secretly stop taking your pills behind my back. Pregnancy and childbirth are too hard on the body. I can't bear to see you suffer." "Can't bear to see me suffer..." I repeated those words in my head, suddenly finding them incredibly laughable. Looking at the deeply affectionate face before me, I asked softly, "Julian, will you ever lie to me in this lifetime?" A flicker of hesitation crossed Julian's eyes, but he immediately kissed my forehead without missing a beat. "Silly. How could I ever lie to you? Everything I have was given to me by you. If I ever betray you, may heaven strike me down." The moment he finished speaking, Julian's phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing slightly. "Wifey, there's an urgent PR crisis at the studio. I need to head over and handle it right away. Get some sleep early, don't wait up for me." As I watched Julian's hurried departure, the very last trace of warmth in my eyes died out completely. Half an hour later, my personal inbox received an anonymous, encrypted email. The sender was unknown, and the subject line simply read: "Unwrap your present." I opened the email. Inside was an audio file, over a dozen high-definition photos, and a twenty-page medical forensic report. I tapped on the audio file first. The recording sounded as though it had been taken inside a private club. Julian's voice, slurred with alcohol and dripping with disdain, came through clearly: "Charlotte Vance? She's just a faded housewife now, hovering around the kitchen stove all day. It's an absolute turn-off. If she didn't still hold some leftover connections in the elite showbiz circle, I would've dumped her a long time ago."Charlotte Vance's POV Another man's voice asked, "Then what about that marriage certificate with her..." "Pfft, fake." Julian sneered. "I had a prop master from the set make it. How could I ever actually marry her? My only lawful wife is Chloe. Charlotte is nothing more than a stepping stone for me—a marriage of convenience where we each get what we want. Once I've drained every last bit of value from her, I'll kick her to the curb." The recording cut off abruptly. My hands trembled violently as I opened the photos. They had been sent by Chloe Somerset. In the photos, Julian lay fast asleep shirtless on a hotel bed, while Chloe, wearing a sexy slip nightgown, snuggled into his chest, flashing a peace sign at the camera. The final photo came with a smug message from Chloe: "Charlotte, thanks for taking care of Julian and helping him secure resources for the past seven years. By the way, I heard your father is Arthur Vance? Such a shame he just passed away. My dad is working on a new energy project lately and is running a bit short on funds. Since you've inherited a hundred-billion-dollar fortune, Charlotte, why don't you invest a few billion to support your 'brother-in-law's' venture?" Every word was a dagger, oozing with sheer arrogance. But what truly shattered me was the final medical forensic report. Starting seven years ago, Julian would hand me a "vitamin pill to regulate my endocrine system" every single day. He said that because I worked late nights during my early acting days, my endocrine system was a mess, and I needed to nourish it properly, otherwise it would be hard to have children in the future. Every night before bed, he would personally shake the capsule out of the bottle, place it in my palm, and watch me swallow it. Yet, this report, issued by a world-class toxicology lab, clearly stated: *The chemical residue of this medication contains high levels of hidden hormonal drugs that destroy the female reproductive system.* *Long-term consumption (for more than three years) will lead to irreversible endometrial atrophy, premature ovarian failure, and complete loss of fertility.* Those vitamin pills he gave me since our "wedding night" were nothing but a cup of sterilizing poison from the very start! He didn't just swindle my affection and my wealth; he had personally stripped away my right to be a mother! "Urgh—" I rushed into the bathroom, clinging to the toilet as I threw up violently. I threw up everything I had eaten for dinner until there was only stomach acid, bile, and finally, a mouthful of fresh blood. Staring at my reflection in the mirror—pale, bloodshot-eyed, looking like a hollow ghost—my tears finally spilled over. "Julian Sterling... Chloe Somerset..." I gritted my teeth, a whimper like a dying beast escaping my throat, every single word accompanied by a soul-tearing agony. At three in the morning, a deathly silence filled the villa. I splashed cold water on my face, completely washing away all of my weakness and tears. I picked up my phone and searched for a number I had deliberately blocked for seven years. It belonged to Harrison Croft. The head of the top-tier Croft Group, and the mastermind behind the rival entertainment company that used to be my biggest competitor. And more importantly, he was the only younger close friend of my late father, Arthur Vance. I sent him a single sentence: "See you tomorrow." In less than ten seconds, the screen lit up with his reply: "Okay."Charlotte Vance's POV At ten o'clock the next morning, inside a signless, members-only club in Lower Manhattan. Harrison Croft sat behind a red sandalwood tea table, clad in a perfectly tailored dark suit. His deep, cold eyes exuded the formidable aura of someone accustomed to being at the very top. The moment I pushed the door open, I seemed to catch a fleeting glimpse of restrained sorrow in his eyes before it instantly vanished. "You've lost weight," Harrison said, his voice deep and slightly raspy. Bypassing any pleasantries, I walked straight over and sat opposite him, my pale face devoid of any emotion. "Mr. Croft, I need your help. I want to ruin Julian Sterling and Chloe Somerset in the shortest time possible, leaving them with absolutely nothing." Looking at my resolute gaze, Harrison didn't ask why. He simply pulled a thick black folder from the briefcase beside him and pushed it toward me. "I've been waiting for you to come to me. I've waited for so long that I thought you truly intended to spend the rest of your life in that trash heap." I opened the folder, my pupils shrinking instantly. Inside, there were not only the split contracts of Julian Sterling and Chloe Somerset's tax evasion over the years, but also Chloe's dirt regarding her trading favors for capital backing and suppressing her peers. There was even a detailed bank history of the two of them secretly transferring assets under my name. Harrison had gathered information far more comprehensive and lethal than I could have ever imagined. "You knew all along?" I looked up at him. "I found out three years ago," Harrison met my gaze without evasion. "But I couldn't give it to you. Back then, your eyes were filled only with him. If I had laid this in front of you, you would have only thought I was trying to drive a wedge between you two." I let out a bitter laugh. Yes, how blind I had been—blind enough to go against Harrison Croft, the biggest capital tycoon in the industry, all for Julian's sake. "This is an equity transfer and asset management authorization document," Harrison handed over another document. "Sign it. Within seven days, I will complete the liquidation of all assets under your name related to Julian Sterling. Every single penny he took from you, I will make him spit back out with interest." I signed my name without the slightest hesitation. Pausing my pen, I said softly, "Thank you, Harrison." "Between you and me, you never need to say those words." Harrison gave me a deep look, then neatly put the documents away. As I was leaving the club, I ran into someone unexpected at the elevator doors in the underground garage—Chloe Somerset. Chloe wasn't wearing one of her usual figure-hugging haute couture gowns today. Instead, she was dressed in a loose cotton dress and flat shoes. Seeing me, she first covered her mouth in feigned surprise, then walked over with a beaming smile. "Ms. Vance, what a coincidence! The privacy here at this club is so good—I specifically arranged to meet a foreign specialist here for a prenatal checkup." As Chloe spoke, she deliberately caressed her still-flat abdomen, her eyes brimming with the smug defiance of a victor.Charlotte's POV My eyes fell on her stomach. My hands, hanging at my sides, instantly clenched into fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. "Oh, right." Chloe acted as if she couldn't see how pale I had turned, continuing to twist the knife in my heart. "Julian told me yesterday that once the baby is born, he wants you to name them. After all... to the public, you're still his nominal 'wife,' so you could count as the baby's 'adoptive mother.'" So much for not fighting for a status! So much for just coming to visit occasionally! I stared coldly at the pure, harmless-looking, yet utterly malicious face in front of me. That familiar wave of nausea welled up in my stomach once again. But I didn't lose my temper. I merely looked at her as if she were a corpse, turned around, and stepped into the elevator that had just arrived. Watching the elevator doors slowly slide shut, Chloe scoffed, "Who are you trying to impress with that high-and-mighty act? You barren hen." That night, Julian didn't return to the villa until late. The main lights in the living room were turned off. I lay curled up on the sofa, my face even paler than it had been during the day, my forehead covered in a fine layer of cold sweat. I felt a subtle, dragging pain in my lower abdomen, but I assumed it was just a side effect of the sterilization drugs. "Honey, I'm back." Julian walked over, but just as he was about to kiss me, his phone suddenly rang urgently in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID. His expression changed slightly, and he answered it immediately. Chloe's tearful voice came through the line. Although it wasn't on speaker, I could hear her loud and clear in the silent night: "Julian, my stomach feels bad, it hurts so much... Can you come and see me?" Julian's brow instantly furrowed into a tight knot. He glanced at me on the sofa, seeing my poor complexion, but stood up without hesitation. "Honey, something urgent came up at the studio. A few investors are causing trouble, and I have to go deal with it right away. Go to bed early." With that, he didn't even wait for my reply. He grabbed his car keys and hurried out the door. I didn't try to stop him. I just stood silently by the French windows, watching Julian's sports car shoot out of the garage like an arrow from a bow, vanishing into the night. For another woman's womb, he wouldn't even spare me a second glance. 2:00 AM. The pain in my lower abdomen suddenly intensified, as if a meat grinder were viciously churning inside my stomach. Spasming from the excruciating pain, I rolled off the bed onto the carpet. I struggled to drag myself up, wanting to go downstairs to get a glass of warm water and take some painkillers. The stairs of the villa were long and made of hard marble. Holding onto the banister, I nudged my way down step by step. Just then, a maid who had gotten up in the middle of the night walked out from around the corner holding a glass of water, her head lowered as she looked at her phone. "Ah!" Not looking where she was going at all, the maid crashed straight into me. Already weak and powerless from the pain, the violent impact made my foot slip. I tumbled down more than a dozen marble steps. Thud! Thud! Thud! The dull sounds of my body slamming against the marble echoed through the empty villa. I crashed heavily onto the first-floor floor, the intense agony instantly swallowing my consciousness. Before slipping into absolute darkness, I felt a warm stream of liquid gushing uncontrollably from between my legs.