?<strong>Chapter 451:</strong>


    Carrie’s smile lingered on her lips, but the warmth in her eyes had vanished, reced by a cold, detached look. Straightening her posture, she spoke softly but firmly. “Just get to the point.”


    Kristopher hesitated before continuing, his tone defensive. “Lise didn’t know it was you who wrote the script at first. But once she found out, she rified things for you on Twitter and even spoke up on your behalf.”


    Before Kristopher could say more, the phone vibrating in his hand fell silent, the message notification blinking away as the tension between them thickened.


    Carrie’s chest tightened. His inability—or unwillingness—to see through Lise’s maniptive behavior suffocated her. Their rtionship had seemed to thaw recently, moments of tenderness and intimacy bridging the gap. Yet those moments were deceptive, like ss: polished and beautiful on the surface, but ready to shatter with the slightest pressure.


    She had convinced herself that their reconciliation was the result of Kristopher’s genuine concessions. Sending Lise to Izrosa had felt like a turning point. But deep down, Carrie knew their reconciliation was actually the result of her emotions overpowering her reason.


    The resolve she once had to end their marriage had slowly eroded, worn down by fleeting warmth and a string of shared memories. But the unresolved tension over Lise was always lurking, waiting to tear through the thin veneer of their fragile peace.


    And as soon as the physical passion and hazy emotions faded, the cracks in their rtionship became ringly obvious. Now, as Kristopher sat across from her, his words bringing Lise into the center of their conversation once again, Carrie’s doubts were no longer whispers—they were deafening.


    Their gazes met, and for a split second, Carrie caught a flicker of panic in Kristopher’s eyes before he quickly looked away. Her lips curved into a faint, ambiguous smile. “Do you really think she was speaking up for me on Twitter?”


    Kristopher’s mouth opened, but Carrie didn’t give him a chance to respond. “If she truly wanted to defend me,” she continued coolly, “why post at such a critical moment? Those gossip ounts never directly named me. By posting then, wasn’t she just confirming whatizens were already specting? Was she stopping the cyberbullying, or was she fueling the fire and making sure the usations stuck?”


    Kristopher pressed his lips together, unable to respond. Carrie’s smile deepened, but it held no warmth. “You’re smart, Kristopher. Maybe you just don’t understand the games women y behind the scenes. But can’t you see through such a petty trick in the entertainment industry?”


    Kristopher’s gaze dropped to the strands of hair falling near her forehead. He reached out, brushing them aside as he muttered, “Lise didn’t grow up in a good environment. She has her ws, but she’s not a bad person. Her heart is good… She’s just a girl who wasn’t raised properly.”


    Carrie pulled away from his hand, her tone sharp. “She’s in her twenties. Sixteen is old enough to be legally responsible for one’s actions. How long are you going to excuse her behavior?”


    Kristopher rubbed his temples, frustration flickering in his eyes. “I’ll take care of this. Don’t hold it against her. She’s leaving for Izrosa soon.”


    Carrie let out a softugh tinged with bitterness. “I thought sending her to Izrosa was your way of choosing me. That it was a concession for our marriage. I thought I was finally more important.”


    “But now… I get it. It wasn’t for me. You just wanted to give her a free pass. No matter what she does, you expect me to forgive her because she’s ‘about to leave.''”


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