Chapter 7: The Press Conference

The hashtag #RyanCaldwellProposesToLillian trended for two whole days.

During those two days, everyone passionately discussed the carat size of Ryan’s proposal ring, the value of the estate he rented for the proposal, the three nights of fireworks he arranged—how thoughtful and romantic it all was…

While people online sent their blessings, most assumed this little drama would finally die down.

But then, another piece of news stirred the waters.

After “Ascendant,” director Jenkins had no new works for nearly a decade.

Five years ago, not long after his screenwriter wife Tanya went abroad, Director Jenkins also left the country, and there was no news of him for years.

For years, rumors swirled online that I was the third party who broke up their marriage, that Director Jenkins’s wife left in anger because of me.

Others speculated they’d divorced five years ago, and Director Jenkins had taken a pregnant lover abroad.

All kinds of rumors, but nothing ever confirmed.

Until today—Director Jenkins’s team suddenly announced a livestream press conference three days later.

After ten years, he would once again collaborate with his wife to produce the next top-tier fantasy series, “Divine Heights.”

The news caused a sensation.

Not because people expected much from the show, but because my name was listed prominently among the main production staff.

[Disgusting! The homewreckers aren’t even pretending anymore.]

[I really feel for Mrs. Jenkins—having to watch this 2+1 (meaning two spouses plus a mistress) flaunt themselves. How humiliating.]

[Heh, reporting this. Let’s all report the livestream—don’t let these shameless old scumbags get away with it.]

[My one-star review will haunt this show forever.]

No matter the online uproar, three days later the press conference went ahead as scheduled.

Director Jenkins, a respected veteran in the industry, invited many old friends—artists and crew he’d worked with before.

To avoid gossip, he also invited Ryan Caldwell and Lillian, who—as expected—declined for various reasons.

Before the livestream began, I went backstage with Director Jenkins and his wife to go over the schedule one last time.

“Natalie.”

Aunt Tanya touched my face, her eyes full of concern.

“Are you alright?”

I smiled, nodded, and squeezed her hand in return.

“I’m fine, Aunt Tanya. It’s been so many years—I’ve already let it go. We should thank that couple for bringing us so much attention. They’ve basically saved us the promo budget.”

She smiled too, though she couldn’t hide her worry.

“Alright, since the kid says she’s fine, us old folks shouldn’t worry.”

Director Jenkins stood up and patted my shoulder.

Aunt Tanya took his arm.

“It’s time. Let’s go, Natalie.”

The greenroom smelled like stale coffee and nervous sweat.

The livestream went smoothly.

Director Jenkins and his wife chatted with the host, discussing the new series and their years studying abroad.

Everything was normal, with most questions about the show, until the media Q&A began.

“Director Jenkins! Director Jenkins!”

All the reporters pounced like wolves.

Director Jenkins casually pointed to someone.

That reporter’s eyes lit up, and he quickly asked:

“Director Jenkins, have you and your wife been abroad all these years?”

“Yes. As they say, you should always keep learning. Us old folks have to catch up with the young, so we settled down to study, to inject some new blood—can’t get left behind by the times.”

“During your time abroad, was it just you and your wife? Was there anyone else?”

Director Jenkins smiled at him, but his eyes were cold.

“Anyone else? Who do you think there would be? Or what answer are you hoping for? Are you trying to ask if I took Natalie Cross abroad with me all these years?”

The room went silent, then the cameras started clicking like crazy.

Director Jenkins’s smile vanished, his tone solemn:

“Regarding these baseless rumors over the years, today I’ll give a full answer. Natalie is a kid my wife and I watched grow up—we love her like our own daughter.

And as for the question everyone’s cared about for years—why did Natalie and I enter and leave hotels together? Here’s my final answer. That year, I was meeting friends in Silver Hollow about ‘Ascendant,’ and Natalie found me to ask if I could give her boyfriend, Ryan Caldwell, a shot.”

The reporter was stunned.

“So you mean, Ryan Caldwell got the role in ‘Ascendant’ because…”

“That’s right.”

Director Jenkins nodded, looking straight at the camera, enunciating each word:

“Let’s set the record straight: the only reason Ryan Caldwell got that audition was because Natalie Cross begged me. I broke my own rules for her, and honestly? I regret it.

From today on, neither I nor my team will ever work with Mr. Caldwell or his new wife, Ms. Lillian, again. I will not cooperate with people who truly interfered in others’ relationships and let those I care about suffer years of baseless rumors—people who lack basic decency.”

The room erupted in chaos.

At the same time, the final episode of the documentary was quietly released.

I sat in the greenroom, the dull roar of the press echoing down the hall, and watched my name flash across a thousand screens. It felt, for the first time in years, like the world was seeing the real me—not the scandal, not the headline, just Natalie Cross. Maybe that was enough.

But as the documentary’s credits rolled, my phone buzzed again—this time, with a message I never expected.