Ch. He Put My Ring On Her Finger At 3 AM 3 He Put My Ring On Her Finger At 3 AM 3

Chapter 3

“What are you doing with that?”

It was my mother’s costume chest. Inside was the shawl she’d worn during her very last performance, and the earrings—the only things I hadn’t been able to bear selling, even after I’d sold off all my jewelry.

Julian pulled it away, out of my reach. “Iris needs to film a video tonight to comfort her fans. She’s emotionally fragile—she needs something with a sense of story as a backdrop.”

I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. “That’s my mother’s keepsake.”

“I’m just borrowing it.”

“Julian.” My voice trembled. “You gave her my ring. Now you’re going to take my mother’s things too, just to make her look pitiable?”

His face went cold as well. “Nora, do you have to make everything sound so ugly?”

“Did I make it sound ugly—or did you do something ugly?”

He was silent for two beats, then suddenly smiled. “I just won an Oscar tonight. Everyone is watching me. If Iris breaks down, the press will write that I’m heartless and ungrateful. You’ve been with me for eight years—you should know we can’t have any chaos right now.”

I looked at him. He looked at me.

Then he said, one word at a time, “Nora—help me. One last time. Please.”

So he still remembered how to beg me.

It was just that somewhere along the way, every time he bowed his head, it was to make me yield for someone else.

I let go.

Before leaving with the chest in his arms, Julian turned back and said, “Once I get through this stretch, I’ll celebrate your birthday with you.”

I smiled. “My birthday was already three months ago.”

His steps faltered—but he didn’t look back.

At 10 A.M., my agent called me to the studio.

The moment I walked into the dressing room, I saw Iris sitting in front of the mirror, that moonwhite shawl draped over her shoulders.

Her makeup was very light, but the outer corners of her eyes had been deliberately pressed red.

Seeing me, she lifted a hand and stroked the shawl, saying softly, “Nora, this fabric is so beautiful. Julian said it was an old thing—I thought it must not be worth much.”

I didn’t look at her. I looked only at Julian.

He was flipping through the interview flow.

To everyone outside, Julian Pierce was always poised, always gentle. Even when he did the cruelest things, it looked like he was tidying up everyone else’s mess.

“Give me back the shawl.”

Julian lifted his eyes. “You’ll get it after the taping.”

“Now.”

He closed the flow binder, walked over to me, and lowered his voice. “Nora. Don’t make a scene.”

I laughed. “My mother’s keepsake—I’m asking for it back, and that’s making a scene?”

Julian stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly lifted his hand and smoothed the collar of my shirt.

In that instant, I could almost see the boy from eight years ago—the one who’d wrap his own jacket around me.

But his tenderness stopped at his hand.

“You used to have the best sense of where the line was.”

I turned my face away.

His fingertips met empty air, and at last, a flicker of displeasure crossed his eyes. “I know what you’re angry about. The ring, Iris, the trending topic last night—all of it made you feel wronged.”

He paused, his tone softening. “But tonight can’t go sideways. Once the livestream ends, I’ll take you home and make it up to you, slowly.”

If I hadn’t heard those words in the green room.

If I hadn’t watched him slide the ring onto Iris’s finger.

Right now—I probably really would have believed him.

I pulled at my lips, and my smile looked worse than weeping. “Make it up how?”

Julian smiled faintly. “Whatever you want.”

I looked straight into his eyes. “I want you to tell the world, right now, that I’m your wife.”

That faint smile faded in an instant.

Beside him, Iris gave a soft, quiet cough.

Julian was silent for a moment, his voice still steady. “Nora. Don’t test me with words like that.”

“Test?”

“You just want to hear me say I can’t live without you, isn’t that it?”

He looked down at me, his gaze so deep it could almost drag a person back into the past. “I admit—no one has mattered more to me than you these eight years. But going public isn’t some small thing. One move pulls the whole body. You’re an adult. Don’t act like some little girl who needs a title to prove she’s loved.”

Something stuck in my throat.

Eight years. Every time he said wait just a little longer, I hid myself back into the shadows.

I’d never once asked for anything.

Now, asking for the word “wife” made me the unreasonable one.

The dressing room door was pushed open. A staff member leaned in. “Mr. Pierce—ten minutes to the livestream.”

Julian hummed, then looked at me again. “Stay backstage and keep an eye on the flow later. Don’t let anything slip.”

I still didn’t move.

He frowned. “Nora.”

I said, very low, “I’m done.”

The moment those three words fell, every person in the room went silent.

Julian looked like he’d just heard a joke. “What did you say?”

“I won’t be your PR anymore. I won’t be your assistant. I won’t be the person behind your back anymore.”

A flash of triumph darted through Iris’s eyes—then, just as quickly, they reddened again. “Julian, forget it. Nora’s feeling hurt. I can explain things myself.”

Julian didn’t look at her. He just stared at me, motionless.

After a long time, he let out a soft laugh. “Nora. This pushandpull act of yours—you’re laying it on a little thick tonight.”

I froze.

So the final break I’d finally spoken aloud—in his eyes, it was nothing more than a ploy to coax comfort out of him.

But he had already turned away, shoving my old wooden chest into a staff member’s hands. “Prepare for the livestream.”

Then, turning his head, he instructed his agent, “Revoke Nora’s access badge. She’s emotionally unstable tonight—don’t let her anywhere near the control booth.”