In Capital City, where every inch of land cost a fortune, he built me an estate spanning several acres.
Everyone said I was lucky, landing a golden benefactor like Curtis.
He'd lifted me from a nobody actress to an A-list star.
Back then, I was at that age when girls fall in love easily.
I didn't understand how quickly things could change, or how cruel people could be.
So I let myself fall for his warmth and generosity.
Then, on our wedding day, Curtis said to me:
"Emma, I've been burned before. The thing I hate most in this world is a gold digger."
"I want our love to be pure—no money, no ulterior motives."
For that, he'd prepared a special divorce agreement.
The terms were crystal clear.
Curtis would take only one dollar a year in salary.
If we divorced, my share of the assets would be exactly that—one dollar.
To put his mind at ease, to prove my love was real—
I signed my name on that agreement without a second thought.
But after the wedding, I discovered the truth.
Curtis's scheming went far deeper than I'd imagined.
Every investment he'd made in my family had been structured as a loan.
Every single dollar, I had to repay—with interest.