Airport Fans, Broken Engagement

After successfully cracking the perpetual motion technology, I turned down a multi-million-dollar offer in the United States and rushed back to America overnight with the related research files.

As soon as I got off the plane at JFK International Airport, a tall man in black suddenly shoved me hard from behind.

“Move it, you slowpoke! Get the hell out of the way, don’t block the path!”

I turned around, my eyes flashing with anger.

“Sir, is this airport owned by your family? What’s wrong with me walking a bit slower?”

The man sneered at my protest.

“Kid, do you even know who’s about to come through here? That’s none other than the triple Academy Award-winning actress, Emily Young!”

“If you don’t want to get mobbed by her obsessed fans, you’d better get lost now.”

I froze for a few seconds, then pulled out my phone and dialed my fiancée.

“Miss Emily, I hear you’ve been doing quite well in Hollywood.”

Emily and I had met through a blind date.

Back then, she was still an unknown extra, getting the occasional chance to play background roles in film sets.

The blind date had gone fairly smoothly, and her only condition was that our relationship must remain secret.

I wasn’t much of a celebrity chaser, but I understood how the entertainment industry worked. After thinking it over, I agreed.

Because my work unit was of the highest security clearance, we rarely met in person. Sometimes we chatted briefly online, but never about each other’s jobs.

One of the biggest reasons I was so eager to return was to fulfill my mother’s wish—settling my marriage as soon as possible.

When I learned that Emily had suddenly won three Academy Awards, I genuinely felt happy for her.

But before I could offer congratulations, she answered with an icy tone.

“I’m busy. Say what you need to say, quickly.”

Her dismissive attitude gave me a faint sense that something was wrong.

“Emily, it’s been five years since we last saw each other. Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?”

On the other end of the line, her voice was dripping with impatience.

“Daniel Stone, who told you that you could call me?”

“Didn’t I tell you never to mention our relationship in public?”

I froze for a moment, speaking evenly.

“So, Miss Emily, do you think I’m an embarrassment to you?”

No sooner had I spoken than an angry roar came from the phone.

“Yes! I do think you’re beneath me!”

“I’m now one of the hottest stars in the entertainment industry, brand deals coming in nonstop. And you… what do you even have to show for yourself?”

I clenched my fists, holding back my fury, and said word by word:

“You’re this eager to cut ties with me?”

“Emily, have you forgotten what you once promised me? You said that no matter whether you became famous or not, you would never—”

Before I could finish, she cut me off with a single contemptuous word: “Childish.”

The line went dead, replaced by the busy signal.

“You’d better watch your mouth, punk. You know what you should and shouldn’t say, don’t you?”

The same man who had shoved me glared at me viciously.

I slowly lifted my head and met his gaze.

“From that tone, are you threatening me?”

He looked at me with disgust and snorted.

“Is there anyone else here besides you?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If those fans find out you’re pestering Miss Emily, you might not even know how you’ll end up dead.”

I stood frozen on the spot.

Not long ago, I had just cracked the perpetual motion project—a feat not quite equal to Einstein or Oppenheimer, but still unprecedented in human history.