As soon as Tilda stepped out of the restroom, she saw Andy waiting by the door. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his blue eyes deep as the ocean, with a playful glint in them. When he noticed Tilda, he ran a hand through his blond hair, lips curving into a teasing smile. "So, how did it go?" he asked. "Easier than I thought," Tilda replied. Andy chuckled. "The fish has already taken the bait. Now we just wait for the right time to reel it in." Tilda's mind was already racing. How could she use Megan to corner Kyla? With Megan's family in financial trouble, this was the perfect chance. "Sometimes I almost feel sorry for the Jensons," Andy said, grinning. "They picked a fight with the Queen. When they finally learn the truth, it'll be hilarious." "They don't deserve pity," Tilda answered coldly. "They brought this on themselves. If they treasure Kyla so much, they should have known this day would come. I'm just pushing it forward a little faster." There was no hesitation in her voice. When it came to this plan, Tilda didn't have the slightest doubt. This was the debt the Jensons owed her. Andy waved a hand. "Relax, don't take my words so seriously. Come on, Tilda. Dinner's already being served. Let's eat before it gets cold." "Sure, payback feels great. But you and Una just got off a long flight. You must be starving. Eat and drink first—full stomachs make everything easier. "We still need to keep up our strength if we're going to enjoy ourselves in Jeselton," he added with a grin. Tilda stepped forward, tapped Andy's cheek lightly with her toe, and smiled brightly. "You win, Andy. I'll listen to you." Yes—getting revenge was important. But it could never come before the people she had finally found again, the friends who truly mattered to her.They were her true family. Compared to them, the Jensons would always come second. ... At the same time, not far from the restaurant, a luxury hotel rose above Jeselton's movie town. On the 40th floor, a man lay in bed, drenched in sweat, his face twisted in pain. It was Darell, the nation's beloved best actor, known for his cold and untouchable personality. He had been living in Jeselton's movie town for months, locked away with the crew. He rejected every endorsement deal and reality show, focusing only on his new movie. His only goal was to finish this new film and win the Best Actor award again, climbing to a peak no one had ever reached before. He was not even thirty, yet he already held two Best Actor trophies. Darell wanted to silence the rumors—that he had coasted on his looks, relied on dumb luck, or used his family power to take the prize. He wanted his fans to feel proud deep in their hearts, proud of the idol they had chosen. To do this, Darell had disappeared from the media for more than half a year, seeing his family and friends only through video calls. Tomorrow would be the final day of filming. The closing scene. At last, it would be over. But in his dream, Darell stood in the middle of a burning building. "Damn it! Not this dream again." He groaned with frustration. For the past two weeks, he had been trapped in this same nightmare. No—it had all started after that strange psychic showed up. The dream was creepy, but it hadn't hurt him or shaken his mind too badly. Still, having the same nightmare for two weeks straight was unsettling. It was downright strange. He sat down on the ground, strangely clear-headed for someone dreaming. Darell knew he was dreaming; the fire didn't harm him, yet everything felt vivid. I've been stuck in this fire for two weeks now. I searched everywhere—there's no way out. It feels like an abandoned warehouse. If I could just lie down and wait until morning like usual, I'd wake up fine. Tomorrow's the last day for the filming; I can't let myself slip or wake up tired. Darell was about to lie down, ready to let the dream fade as usual. If he slept again inside the dream, he would wake up in the real world when morning came. But then— A desperate cry broke through the crackle of fire. "I didn't ... I swear I didn't ... Dad, Mom, brothers ... it wasn't me ... "Please, you have to trust me. I didn't do this." "What was that?" Darell's eyes flew open. The voice seemed to come from somewhere deeper in the blaze.For the first time in two weeks of repeating this nightmare, he was hearing something new. And the voice, it sounded familiar. He just couldn't place where he had heard it before. Curiosity gnawed at him. After all, this was only a dream—what could really happen? Darell had always been a man of strict science, never one for superstitions or ghost stories. So, instead of waiting for the alarm clock to wake him in the morning, he decided to push on and find out what trick his mind was playing. Step by step, he followed the pleading voice. The fire roared all around him, swallowing his body in flames that looked frighteningly real.