Atypical billionaire’s true love

"I have nothing to do with her! I've explained it sooo many times, just regular social interaction, you never trust me!" "But..." "No but. Listen, one last time, nothing happened. I don't care how you interpret it, do you understand? I DON’T CARE!” The gaze from Michael's gray eyes shot out like a silver sword, piercing directly towards Helena's body, until it went through. She looked at the man in front of her, familiar, but more and more strange. She cannot forget he stood at the door of the set every day, holding a bouquet of roses, no matter how late she was, waiting for her to come out, open his coat in the cold wind at once, hold her tightly, and warm her with his body, praised her looks as a piece of art. His appearance remained the same, still that person, but now, he was the man who held flowers in his right hand, wrapped his left arm around another woman's shoulder. The source of the explosion all started from this afternoon's audition-- As the camera slowly zoomed in from the mid-shot to the close-up, the woman in the frame lowered her eyes to the letter in her hand, her eyelashes trembling slightly, and read slowly, "I love your happy smile, I love your gentle eyes and hands, I love every bit of you." She slowly raised her head, allowing the light to cast a half-light and half-shadow on her distinctly contoured face from the left side. Her lips, which seemed to be smiling, could not bring any trace of joy to the dark circles under her eyes. In her deep, rich chocolate-colored eyes, a crystal tear rolled down. "My dear, you have my whole heart and soul. Kiss you a thousand times. Yours, beloved." "Cut!" As the tear fell, the person behind the camera shouted loudly. "E-len-na?" "He-len-na, with a pronounced 'h'." "Whatever, here, pay more attention, you got a love letter, not a farewell one!" The sound of fingers tapping heavily on the table made Helena's heart chill. She hastily said, "I... I'll try again." "No need." The man's swollen five fingers lifted up and waved outward, "Go back and wait for the message." With that, the man finally half-lifted his eyelids to size up the woman in front of him, "You should dress up before audition, don't be as old as your name. Next!” Helena had been an actress for almost two years, but even a completely inexperienced novice could easily tell in this situation— The audition failed. Again. More accurately, it was the 16th time in nearly three months. After unlocking the car, Helena didn't get in immediately. Instead, she turned back and leaned against the car, admiring the showcase next to the car— This was the parking spot she deliberately chose. In front of the showcase, the display was the latest season's wedding dresses and gowns: with a halter design, cut from pure silk fabric creating freely flowing curves, like the fairy skirt every girl dreams of owning. Maybe she should lose another ten pounds, or... or If only she could wear it, on her wedding day, stand by Michael…yes, that would be ENOUGH. Helena sighed lightly, sat in the car, opened the storage box on the front of the passenger seat, and felt the thick milky white notebook inside, like a recharge, that's her secret wedding plan. After a while, when she felt she had recovered from the frustration of the failed audition, she took a deep breath, pressed the car start button. There is never a shortage of news where there are people, and there is always something new on the car radio. But come to think of it, Michael, her boyfriend, could really be considered a never fade tree among all the varieties. "Next news, hey, it’s our famous Michael! Let’s see, which pretty girl he shopping with this time…maybe child star Valerie...wait, is the girl plays little princess in pink dress, every time she shows up sing a song or something? hahaha…obviously a easy way to becoming Prince Charming!” Hearing the familiar Michael name, Helena looked up at herself in the rearview mirror, and the disjointed notes were difficult to form melodic tunes as they intermittently hummed from her mouth. About accompanying these "companions" for a stroll, including practices that do not publicize their relationship, Michi, who is quite handsome, explains all of it as necessary to maintain the essential friendship and protect her. If she were to ask any further, it would be a betrayal of his heartfelt efforts and the greatest distrust towards him. How could she not believe him? They have been together for two years, of course she should trust him. Helena looks at the familiar coffee shop with the blue wooden door at the intersection ahead. If she turns right here, she'll reach her agent Monica's office. To be honest, Helena has been avoiding her lately. The more she goes out of her way to arrange auditions, the more difficult it is for Helena to face her. But, by the time Helena reacts, she's already in the right turn lane and can only choose to turn right at this moment. It's this right turn that plunges her already not-so-bright mood to the bottom of the valley. Because just as the car turns, she sees through the window the familiar figure, the man she couldn't possibly mistake even if she closed her eyes and felt his back with her hand. At this moment, his left arm is tightly wrapped around a golden-haired, shapely girl. The girl is laughing so genuinely, even the dimples on her cheeks are deeply indented, filled with the smiles of the men next to her. That kind of expression has also appeared repeatedly before her, she is simply too familiar with it. But, two years later, it was almost completely forgotten by her, until today it reminded her again. Helena feels a surge of sourness in her chest, accompanied by a strange, settled sense of relief. What should she do now? Confront him? Or Her? She lifts her head and looks into the rearview mirror once again. The woman in the mirror, with her hair and eyes as gray as a returning tide, is covered with a thick layer of dust. She shifts her gaze, and in the corner of her eye, the woman with the brilliant, even somewhat exaggerated smile, her upper body leaning back, hair spread out in the sunlight, every strand shining with a soft golden light. Helena's fingertips are tingling. She feels like a lost snail, retracting into her shell at 60km/h speed. Unfortunately, that shell is the one she and Michael decorated together. Every detail, just as beautiful as when they decided to be together. Helena looks at the photo in the wooden frame: she is on the back of the man, smiling brightly, her hands around his neck, her deep chocolate-colored wavy hair spilling over his shoulder, gleaming with the afternoon sunlight. Maybe... they were really just strolling. Seeing isn’t always believing... she should trust him. But in the end, when she risked being accused by Michael of "not trusting him" and asked, "What’s the deal with you and that blonde girl?”- "I have nothing to do with her!” “I've explained it so many times, just regular social interaction.” “I don't care how you interpret it, I DON’T CARE.” It can be said that, not even a single word was beyond Helena’s expectations. Everything happened, just like that.