Chapter 2

Everyone in the industry was aware that I betrayed Andrew five years ago. They knew he hated me.

As the crowd drifted away, I left with Emily.

The back gate I'd come in through was already locked.

The set was huge. I searched for ages but couldn't find another way out.

I tried stopping a few people to ask for directions, only to be met with disgust and disregard.

Emily and I kept wandering under the scorching sun for a long time.

Suddenly, I regretted bringing her along to save myself 30 dollars on daycare.

By the time I finally found an exit, it was already evening.

It probably wasn't the main entrance, so there weren't many people coming and going.

As I led Emily out, out of nowhere, I caught sight of a man smoking around the corner.

The smoke rings he exhaled mingled with the golden sunset, blurring his face.

He kept his head slightly lowered, seemingly lost in thought, and hadn't noticed me.

Almost without thinking, I quickened my pace.

As I was about to pass him, I heard his cold, mocking voice. "What? Mr. Shaw stopped supporting you?"

Something felt stuck tight in my throat. It didn't hurt, but I could barely catch my breath.

I gripped Emily's hand tightly and fled like I was running for my life.

I still couldn't bring myself to glance back at Andrew even once.

*****

On my way home, my phone kept buzzing with calls.

It was different crews, but the same message every time. "Olivia, you're not needed here anymore."

To make ends meet, I'd been an extra for at least ten crews. On my busiest days, I'd bounce between five sets a day.

One minute I'd slather fake blood on and play a corpse, the next I'd cover myself in mud to act as cannon fodder.

But now, every crew was telling me the same thing. "Don't bother coming back."

I pressed for a reason. One director sent me a photo after hesitating for a long time.

It was a picture from the set. Emily was clinging to Andrew's arm, and I was standing nearby.

Based on the angle, it should've been taken by the female assistant next to Andrew. There was no doubt that he'd told her to do it.

I bit down hard on my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. "But we signed a contract."

The director sounded annoyed. "The contract says you can't harm the crew's reputation or mess with our interests while you're working with us.

"I'm not making you pay a breach fee. I'm already being generous."

I dug my nails into my palm, unable to say a word.

The director's voice dripped with contempt. "Look at you. After what you did five years ago, how can you still have the nerve to chase after Mr. Lane again? You brought all this on yourself."

Then he hung up.

No one believed I hadn't gone there on purpose to run into Andrew.

Emily curled up next to me on the sofa, fast asleep.

Night settled deeper outside the window, pure blackness stretching out without a glimmer of light anywhere.

I probably had at most three months left.

Before I was gone, I had to save up every dollar I could to make sure Emily would have something to live on.

The phone in my hand kept lighting up and going dark, over and over.

My palm was slick with cold sweat.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I'd blocked five years ago.

After a long pause, I unblocked it and dialed, my fingers trembling.

I told myself Andrew might've changed his number ages ago. Or if he hadn't, he'd have blocked me.

Even if he didn't, there was no way he'd pick up.

My heart was in my throat, and I could barely breathe.

I was the one calling, but I was terrified Andrew would actually answer.

As the call was about to time out after a long while, Andrew's flat voice suddenly came through. "Who is this?"

I froze for an instant and then realized what was going on.

He'd deleted my number ages ago, so he had no clue who I was.

My throat was dry and tight, but I forced myself to speak. "I'm sorry for what happened five years ago. Can you—"

I trailed off before I could finish what I wanted to ask.

Maybe Andrew hadn't ordered anyone to send those photos to the director.

Perhaps I was imagining things, thinking he'd bother wasting his time getting back at me.

Andrew's voice on the line sounded confused, edged with cruel teasing. "Five years ago? Ms. Lynn, what happened back then?"

I tightened my grip on the edge of the sofa with the hand hanging at my side.