Wish My Ex A Happy Wedding

When I was nominated for the Best Actress Award, Asher Gildon got engaged. A reporter asked me for my thoughts on the matter, and I faced the camera, saying, "I wish Mr. Gildon a long and happy marriage."

On the same day, Asher stormed into my residence, his eyes blazing with fury. "Who did you wish a long and happy marriage to?"

Asher was the benefactor who helped me rise in the industry. Every film and TV project I had was thanks to him. People in the circle were curious about what qualities I possessed to earn the favor of such a big shot.

Now, with news of Asher's impending marriage spreading, spectators, mockers, and provocateurs were coming from all directions.

I left in a van with my agent, Nina Gardner. Inside, Nina refused to give me my phone, but I knew what was happening. I looked at her quietly. "Nina, I'm not at the end of this path yet."

She handed me the phone.

The headline was glaring and fitting.

A couple that complements each other perfectly was captured opening a bottle of champagne, a perfect moment recorded.

I remembered that I had been with Asher for five years and didn't even have a single photo with him. The only picture was a paparazzi shot of me getting into Asher's car, as I ducked into the car with him reaching out to help me in.

Only his hand was visible, but Asher made sure it didn't go public.

Unlike the current one, which could be seen everywhere.

I returned to my residence, a large villa shrouded in darkness. Asher was slumped on the sofa in the living room, looking exhausted, as if he had been waiting for me for a long time.

I turned on the light and saw his pale face. Asher opened his eyes and sat up straight. "Emily Woolery, don't you think you should explain?"

I wanted to laugh. He was the one getting engaged, yet he wanted me to explain.

Yet I said, "Mr. Gildon, you once said you don't like women who cause trouble for you. Wishing you a long and happy marriage seemed like the most appropriate way to handle things."

Asher seemed momentarily speechless, then gestured for me to come closer, as if I was his pet. "Emily, you're the best."

Then he added, "It's been a while since I heard you play the piano. Could you play for me?"

I looked at my long, manicured nails, said nothing, but obediently got up and walked to the piano.

The first time Asher saw me, I was playing the piano.

Back then, I was a junior in college, studying piano. The high tuition fees forced me to work part-time. That time, I was a temporary server at a high-end club. Although I was a server, the pay was decent. I worked until midnight, and the guests showed no signs of leaving, suddenly demanding a piano performance.

The manager remembered my resume and pushed me forward.

The piano was in the center of the hall. I started playing, thinking these people wouldn't understand art, so I played casually.

"Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp minor, if you play it with that attitude, you might as well leave."

I stopped, the music abruptly halted, and I looked towards the voice.

I saw a man sitting on the sofa inside, lazily leaning against the backrest, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke swirling above. His dark eyes looked in my direction, showing a polite yet distant expression.

My fingers froze on the keys, ready to apologize and leave, but then he spoke again. "This is the song my parents fell in love to. If you could play it again, I'd hope you perform it perfectly."

I took a deep breath and raised my hands again.

During the performance, I glanced at him a few times. He had his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying it, a slight smile on his lips. Amidst the piano notes, I heard my own heartbeat, fluttering with the irregular rhythm of the keys.

Asher left the villa late at night. This residence was the first gift he gave me, but he never spent the night here. To be precise, he never stayed overnight with me.

I once asked him about it, and I remembered his answer clearly. He told me, "Habits can be hard to break. If I stay here one night, there will be a second, a third, and eventually, I won't want to leave."

Back then, I adored him wholeheartedly, clinging to him, saying, "Then don't leave. Be my king."

He just smiled indulgently, ruffling my hair, "I won't be your king, but you're going to be my little mistress."

Asher loved when I clung to him, loved seeing me express affection. Perhaps from the first time we met, when I secretly glanced at him, I had already fallen into the abyss that belonged solely to him.

He easily found my school. Such a radiant figure, waiting outside the piano room for me all afternoon. Until I finished practicing and walked out, he turned and met my gaze.

The sheet music fluttered in my hand, and I heard my heartbeat.

"Emily," Asher broke the silence first, "I'm here to see you."

I wasn't surprised he knew my name, just unsure how to respond. But he quickly realized and added, "Asher, Asher Gildon."

"Miss Woolery, are you free tonight? I'd like to discuss a business deal with you."

I picked up the water glass and splashed it at the man in front of me. Thirty minutes ago, I was moved by him, but now, I just wanted to leave.

The business Asher mentioned was for me to become his mistress.

I wasn't so low as to sell myself for money, and Asher seemed to anticipate my reaction, elegantly eating the steak on his fork, then wiping his face with a napkin.

What an audacious scoundrel.

"Mr. Gildon, perhaps countless people in this world are lining up to do business with you, but I am certain I won't be among them."

Asher watched my fierce resistance and suddenly laughed, as if mocking my overestimation of myself.

But I couldn't blame him. At that moment, I was strong, but later, I was spineless and pathetic.