(journalism) lede

The childhood sweetheart who had once vowed to make me a principal violinist proposed to Olivia Stirling—a counterfeit genius who could only lip-sync and fake her performances—right at my conservatory graduation ceremony.

Just as I thought I was about to become the laughingstock of high society, William Astor, the financial titan known for his cold ruthlessness and asceticism, stepped into the spotlight and proposed to me.

We married. For five years, he played the perfect husband: gentlemanly, considerate, showering me with enviable care.

Until that afternoon, when I unintentionally overheard his conversation with his private lawyer in the study.

"William, Olivia is now an internationally renowned soloist. Do you really intend to continue acting out this loving marriage with Charlotte?"

"It makes no difference; I cannot have Olivia anyway. Besides, as long as Charlotte stands in the front, the media spotlight won't disturb Olivia's private life, allowing her to focus on playing the violin in peace."

It turned out that the massive checks he anonymously donated to the cathedral every year all bore notes dedicated to Olivia.

"May Olivia stay far from turmoil, her soul at peace."

"May Olivia get all she desires and shine forever on the stage."

"Olivia, since we cannot walk side by side in this life, I am willing to trade a lifetime of loneliness for your era of glory."

In that moment, the five-year-long false fairy tale instantly collapsed.

I forged a brand-new identity and orchestrated a perfect disappearance.

From this day forward, in life or in death, let our paths never cross again.