Tracy blushed.
Noticing her reaction, Anita gently took Tracy's hand and said, "Tracy, you've always been the one I trusted the most since childhood—because you've never lied to me."
She stared directly into Tracy's eyes.
Watching them, Queenie began to panic.
Oh my God. I'm about to get exposed!
Anita was too sharp for her own good.
"I…" Tracy tried to look away, but just as she was about to speak, Kate suddenly interrupted.
"It's just a photo. I have one! I'll go grab it."
Kate dashed into her room. After rummaging around for a while, she reemerged holding a photo. She handed it to Anita with a triumphant grin.
"Here you go. It's John. Take your time and look closely."
Anita took the photo with great anticipation. But the very next second, her face fell flat.
It was John—just not the John she had expected.
In the photo, a baby John stood awkwardly in split pants, his chubby cheeks and innocent eyes locked in time. The photo was yellowed from age, and no one could tell where Kate had even found it.
"Kate, are you kidding me right now?" Anita's tone rose with annoyance.
But Kate simply stuck out her tongue. "Hey, come on, Anita. Don't be mad. I've got another one of him all grown up!"
She handed Anita another picture.
Anita, suppressing her frustration, took a deep breath and gave Kate one more chance.
But the moment she saw the new photo, all hell broke loose.
She smashed the picture on the floor and charged at Kate with small but furious fists.
"I asked for a photo of John grown up—not grown in the wrong damn direction! Ugh, my eyes! You're responsible for this, Kate!"
She cursed loudly as she chased Kate around the room.
Queenie and the others, now wildly curious, glanced at the photo lying on the floor. The moment they saw it, they all blushed furiously.
It was the same feeling they'd had the first time they'd stumbled upon Kate's study materials hidden deep in her computer.
Where in the world did Kate even find these things? Shameless!
Still…
Kate's antics had saved Tracy from Anita's scrutiny.
At least for today, Anita wouldn't be seeing John.
Something felt off about all these girls, Anita thought. But since none of them seemed willing to talk, she had no choice but to compromise.
"Fine," she sighed. "Keep your little secrets. I'll go along with it. I'm not leaving New York anytime soon. I'll just wait here until John gets back."
The Next Day
Among the serene mountains and flowing rivers…
Inside an antique teahouse…
Anita wore a white cheongsam embroidered with blue and white porcelain flowers. The fabric hugged her graceful figure. Her oval-shaped face was porcelain-smooth, her complexion fair and radiant. Under her arched brows, her eyes glistened like spring water—calm, deep, and mesmerizing.
Her nose was delicately sculpted, her lips a soft cherry pink. Jet-black hair was coiled elegantly behind her head, exuding grace and poise.
She poured tea slowly, her bare hands steady and elegant.
Her entire presence harmonized effortlessly with the tranquil beauty of the surroundings.
Though this was merely a scene for filming, nothing about it felt artificial. It was as if the world had been designed just to hold her in it.
She belonged here.
So perfect was the moment that even after the take had technically ended, the director didn't call cut—he didn't want to disturb the stillness, the living painting before him.
But filming had to move on.
According to the script, the next scene involved several villains attempting to kidnap Anita. This part of the shoot was mostly symbolic—no major action required.
They didn't need to film every detail of the abduction. Just a few quick camera switches: a shot of the villain threatening Anita, then a cut to her looking frightened. That would be enough to convey the plot.
The director captured Anita's reaction with one clean shot.
"Excellent! Absolutely perfect!" he shouted, clearly pleased.
They'd gotten the footage in just one take. Her performance left no doubt—Anita had real acting talent.
Unfortunately, she had a strict no-kissing policy, and no one on the crew dared challenge that. Otherwise, the director might've insisted on shooting a romantic scene with her himself, just to see how flawlessly she could perform it.
After the final cue…
Suddenly, a masked man leapt out from among the extras, his voice sharp with amusement.
"Ha! Girl, our boss said he's going to make you his wife!"
He lunged toward Anita.
Everyone on set froze.
None of this was scripted.
Only the villain leaders were supposed to speak or move. The rest were just masked extras who stood still with fake knives for dramatic effect.
So what the hell was this guy doing?
Had he lost his mind?
And worse—the filming had already ended! Why jump in now?
"Shit! Protect Anita!" the director yelled in a panic.
His heart dropped.
He'd heard of actors who became too immersed in their roles and developed personality disorders, unable to distinguish fiction from reality. But this guy? He wasn't even a major character. No lines. No close-ups. Nothing.
Had he lost it that quickly?
Was he mentally unstable?
Regardless of the reason, the director couldn't take chances—not with Anita's safety on the line. If anything happened to her…
The man in Houston would probably skin him alive.
The entire crew snapped out of their daze. But before they could move, it was already too late.
The masked man's speed was beyond anything they expected.
And what happened next made their eyes go wide with disbelief—