Chapter 2

Evelyn pressed play.

In the video, Tessa wore a black dress from the screen test and sat before the mirror in my dressing room. My name was still printed across the back of the chair. Julian stood behind her, fastening the gold film-reel brooch to her neckline.

Tessa touched it and smiled at him in the mirror. “This is Mara’s. Won’t she be angry?”

“Hold still.” Julian smoothed her collar. “My good-luck charm belongs on my leading lady.”

Someone off camera called for them to begin. Only then did Tessa release his sleeve.

Evelyn paused the video. “This was a private screen test three months ago, while you were still on maternity leave. I thought he had your permission.”

I stared at my name on the chair. Julian had brought my brooch into my dressing room, seated another woman in my place, and called her his leading lady.

“Send the original file to Simone,” I said. “Only this clip. Don’t pull anything else.”

I did not ask how many other recordings existed or search through Tessa’s other screen tests.

The video could not tell me whether they had slept together. It did prove that Julian knew what Tessa wanted and was willing to take something from me to please her.

What happened on the carpet had not been spontaneous.

Two months ago, I had gone to my first dress fitting since giving birth. My fingers still went numb, and the zipper had caught below my shoulder blades. I asked Julian to help. He was answering a message from Tessa and never looked up.

“Ask the stylist, Mara. I have a call in ten minutes.”

He did not come home for dinner that night. Tessa was crying over the abuse she had received online, he texted. He needed to drive her home himself so she would not be alone.

I had replied okay with one numb hand while holding a sleeping Noah in the other. I told myself Julian was looking after the youngest actress at our company. He knew I was safe at home. He knew I would understand.

Now, on Evelyn’s screen, he was using the same hands that had been too busy to zip my dress to pin my brooch on Tessa.

By the time Simone returned from the carpet, the after-party had started.

She handed me her phone. Entertainment accounts had already clipped the moment I refused the group photo. Their captions ranged from “Marriage Trouble” to “Postpartum Meltdown.”

“If you skip the after-party too, they’ll make it worse,” she warned. “The distributors are all in there.”

Julian and I had been scheduled to give the opening toast. Many of the crew members had spent three years on this film. I knew my absence would embarrass them, and it would leave Julian with the microphone all night.

I handed back the phone. “They aren’t interested in the film tonight. Whether I go or not, the story will be the three of us.”

I asked her to save the screen-test clip, the raw carpet footage, and the receipt for the brooch. Then I canceled my appearance at the party and booked a room at the hotel.

Walking away would anger the team. Going inside and raising a glass would tell everyone Julian was right: I would always clean up whatever mess he made.

Once I reached the room, I sent him a single message.

Tomorrow. Ten a.m. My hotel suite. We’re discussing the brooch, Tessa, and my credit.

His reply arrived in less than a minute.

Fine. But before we talk, promise me you’ll tell the press tomorrow that tonight was a misunderstanding.