Chapter 157 Work Out

Sebastian’s POV It’s not the first time that I have had this doubt.

Scar is a lot like the girl I saved...more than Ave. Not her look, her spirit. I guess I saw that even before she brought up the divorce. I dodged her exactly because I couldn’t accept myself looking for similarities between her and the girl I saved when she was Ava’s bully.

I stare into her eyes, and I can’t see a shred of guilt for lying.

Disappointment overwhelms me.

“She...she what?” I frown, blinking to reboot my brain. Ava showed a video of my proposal??? I didn’t even know I was going to propose that day, and Ava definitely didn’t take a video.

It’s ridiculous how everyone thinks I’m in love with Ava when of all women, I have never even dated her.

Scar’s script sets up so romantically and ideally, but the truth is, Ava and I have been in the same strings of schools, but never at the same time. Even Scar, the first impression I have of her that I can remember was when I visited Ava when they both entered high school when I was already graduating from college I had never even seen Ava as a woman before that. She was just a kid, a little sister that I sworn to protect. She said she wasn’t happy at home, and I tried to make her time a bit easier during my visits.

I don’t know how much of that I can trust now. But I do remember seeing Scar here and there, usually like the character in the scene just now, snooping around speakily – thinking that she did that sneakily. Now to think about it, those were the times when Ava would remind me how crafty and evil her adopted sister was.

From where I am now, I don’t see her peeking as evil anymore. I didn’t understand that as a stupid boy buf now...

“Since when did you like me?” I ask Scar, only to realize how little I know about her, “I never asked but... why were you into me?”

I barely to malked to her before she went into high school, nor did I spend much time with her after. It came as a surprise when she told me she liked me, right before she demanded my hand in marriage. I was so against that idea, taking that as a shameless blackmail so I never cared about why.

Scar looks back at me calmly, and now I hear how ridiculous I am.

“I’m sorry-”

“Whatever,” Scar shrugs it off, pulling her wrist out of my grip, “What are you doing here?”

Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for her. I just don’t know if that’s more of a bother to her, or a show of love.

“Mr. Knight is the biggest sponsor of the movie now,” James Deep comes up to my help. “He seems to have high demand on the quality, and I have forwarded him the script.“.

He then looks right into Scar’s eyes, warning her seriously: “If you want the audience to love our male lead, then you will need to love him first Me and Scar both flinch at his words, but he doesn’t seem to realize that he is talking about us as he continues: “Or the story won’t work. Work it out.”

He leaves like a storm. I didn’t like that blunt guy, but he suddenly looks so much nicer.

Scar darts her waterful eyes to me, her look turns from shock to confusion then to anger. None of what I was hoping for. “Since when?!” She hisses like a pissed kitten, “Does Adrian know about this?!”

That’s not “working it out“!

“If you really have learned from your mistake, then you wouldn’t trust him so completely so fast!” I try to suppress my anger lit up by that name, “Do you even know what he has been up to:

ly?!”

That jerk turned himself into the tail of Aurora Dawson right after Scar took an interest in him!

“Except selling my movies to my enemies?!” Scar snaps back like the fireball she has always bern, “I’m upset at him for keeping me in the dark, but you don’t get to trash him considering you won’t be here without his help!”

What a naive girl! “He didn’t ‘help‘ me. He let me in because I’m paying him-” I put a halt to myself, cutting off the unnecessary part, “The point is, he doesn’t love you, not whole–heartedly at least. You would keep a distance from him if you knew better.”

“I should stay away from him because he doesn’t love me wholeheartedly?” Scar sneers with her arms folded, her figure painting a luring curve in the sunlight casting on her, but her words are cold as ice, “So what are you doing exactly when you refuse to sign the divorce papers?”