Chapter 4

But getting back to doing what I love really lifted my spirits.

I spent every free moment tweaking my songs and lyrics, and made regular trips to the rehab center for voice therapy.

Slowly but surely, I could string together short sentences without stumbling.

Hope started to sprout from these small victories.

I thought I could finally break free from the nightmare of that fire and start fresh.

But fate wasn't done with me yet.

The day after I submitted the final version of my song, Lara took me out to help me unwind.

While we were getting ice cream, her phone buzzed out of nowhere.

Lara picked up, and after just a couple sentences, her face went ghostly pale. She kept apologizing nonstop.

"We'll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. There's absolutely no way this is plagiarism," she said.

Plagiarism?

I was momentarily dazed, not sure how to react.

Lara hung up, her face grim.

"Zachary just listened to your song. He says the arrangement is strikingly similar to an old track by Eleanor, and suspects it might be plagiarism," she said.

My head was buzzing, and my hand trembled. Before I knew it, the scoop of ice cream slipped from my cone and hit the ground. The white cream was instantly smeared with dirt.

This was my own original work from three years ago. How could it possibly overlap with Eleanor's song?

There was no time to think. Lara quickly called a cab and dragged me off to the set.

The director said Zachary was waiting for me in the makeup room and wanted to see me alone.

Lara shot me a worried look, but I just smiled and shook my head. 'It's just the crew. Nothing's going to happen here,' I reassured myself.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the makeup room door.

"Come in," Zachary called out, his voice low and unreadable.

I clenched my fists and pushed the door open.

Zachary had just wrapped up his scene. He hadn't even taken off his makeup yet. He was sitting in front of the mirror, eyes glued to his phone.

My breath hitched. In costume, he was the spitting image of the hero I'd always dreamed up.

Back when I was binge-reading the novel, I used to daydream about meeting him like this. Now that it was actually happening, it was so surreal, I could hardly believe it.

"Have a seat," he said, nodding toward the chair right next to him.

I looked at the spot, then picked a seat with one empty between us, making sure to keep some distance.

Zachary gave a dry, mocking chuckle, his eyes dripping with disdain as he looked at me.

My heart clenched. 'It's just not the same anymore,' I thought.

The Zachary from my daydreams would never give me that look, like I was something he'd just scraped off his shoe.

Zachary fiddled with his phone for a moment, then let a melody play out.

"Recognize this, Miss Singleton?" he asked.

My face went ghostly pale. This wasn't just similar. It was exactly the version I'd written from the start.

How did Eleanor end up with this?

"Eleanor was in tears when she told me this song was her whole story, every feeling she had chasing after me all these years. And now, she says you stole it right out from under her," Zachary said, his voice icy.

I frowned, my chest tightening. This was my song, my emotions. How did I end up being the thief here?

"I didn't," I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You didn't? Eleanor's files show she wrote it three years ago. When did you compose yours?" Zachary pressed, his tone sharp.

Three years ago? My mind went blank. How could this be such a wild coincidence?

Zachary got up and came right over, planting his hands on the arms of my chair and leaning down until his shadow loomed over me, blocking out everything else.

"Macie, look at you now. Can't say a single true word, can you?" he sneered.

I clutched my pants, my hands shaking.

"The song... it's mine," I barely got the words out, my voice breaking. "I wrote it three years ago."

"And those feelings, they're mine, too," I whispered. "I'm not a thief."

Zachary stared at me for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.

"Do you really think I'm still the idiot you fooled so easily three years ago?" he sneered.

He said, "You were the one who ditched me, saying you couldn't handle being with someone whose face was ruined.

"You told me my acting career was finished, that I'd never be able to give you the kind of life you dreamed of.

"And now you're claiming those feelings were yours? Macie, do you even have a heart?"

His eyes burned with hatred, stabbing right through me like a knife. For a moment, it hurt so much that I could barely catch my breath.

Zachary looked almost pleased by how much I was hurting. He cooled off a bit, straightening up and acting all calm, like he had all the time in the world.

"It's fine. Since we've got history, let's settle this privately," Zachary said, his voice cold and dismissive.

He kept his eyes fixed on me, looking down with that icy stare.

"You're going to apologize to Eleanor and own up to stealing her song. And you're not stopping until she says you're forgiven," he ordered, leaving no room for argument.

I looked at him, and in that moment, life just felt utterly absurd.

This was the man I'd once loved enough to risk everything for, and now he was forcing me, the one who'd been wronged, to apologize to the real culprit.

"Zachary," I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't."

He didn't look at me.

I was racking my brain for the shortest way to tell the truth, but Zachary spoke up before I could get a word out.

"You've got three days," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

"The evidence is in my hands. If I let it out, you can kiss your music career goodbye, forever."