Chapter 49 The Superstar (11)

Bensham was lounging with the puppy in his lap, looking ridiculously smug as he grinned at me.

"So, how are you planning to thank me? After everything I’ve done for you, isn’t it fair for you to take care of the poop duty on Sunday?"

I curved my lips into a smile, "Sure thing. Then you can handle Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday."

Bensham’s expression froze.

"You… ungrateful woman!"

I laughed coldly, "And why aren’t you mentioning the part where I took the fall for you?"

"What?" His face was a mix of confusion and disbelief.

I recounted the incident with Anna confronting me and pointed to the faint scar on my face.

Bensham’s expression faltered, his smugness replaced by something more serious.

Slowly, he touched the scar on my face with surprising gentleness.

Goosebumps ran up my arms as I slapped his hand away quickly.

"All right, all right! Cut the act! You’re on poop duty, and that’s final!"

The fleeting sadness in Bensham’s eyes disappeared instantly.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his expression calm and casual, "I’m just working on my acting skills."

What I didn’t see were his hands trembling slightly inside his pockets.

The next day, Bensham tossed a small ointment tube onto the table before me, "Try it. It won’t leave a scar."

It looked expensive.

I casually asked, "How much? I’ll transfer the money to you."

"About a hundred grand or so. My dad bought it," Bensham said.

How much?!

The real Emily was only paid $100,000 for participating in this show.

What kind of ointment costs over a hundred thousand dollars? Is it made of gold?

I quietly took back my offer to transfer his money and instead asked, "Does your dad have any illegitimate daughters? I feel like we look alike."

Bensham reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

His tone turned sharp, "How exactly do we look alike? Is it the same biting personality?"

Me: …

Well, at least he’s honest about himself.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, a month had passed. The variety show was nearing its end.

During this time, Morton hadn’t approached me again—probably still recovering from his injury.

As for Anna, she’d stopped trying to make her presence known.

But something felt off.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were quietly cooking up some big scheme against me.

The day before we wrapped up filming, the director invited us to relax at the beach.

Bikinis filled my vision everywhere I looked, and I couldn’t help but feel dazzled.

Say what you will about the entertainment industry, but these people had incredible figures.

"You’re drooling," Bensham’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

I instinctively wiped at my chin.

A light, smug laugh followed, "Gotcha!"

That damn man!

I turned to him, ready to start an argument.

Bensham was shirtless, wearing only swim trunks. His light chestnut hair danced slightly in the breeze.

His defined abs and that perfectly carved V-line at his waist.