Chapter 4

I looked at her. "I'm not a newcomer either. My career took years of hard work to get where it is."

"I have brands, fans, and a whole team too. Who gave you the right to say that?"

Vanessa circled around me. "Regardless, I believe this is the best solution."

I found it utterly absurd. "Of course you think it's best when it benefits you. Do you take me for an idiot?"

Vanessa's gaze turned sharp, her voice hardening.

"Because I know Adrian better than you do. I know what makes him succeed, and I know what holds him back."

My fingers curled tight.

Vanessa took a step closer.

"Scarlett, if you had just agreed to step aside earlier, none of this would have happened."

"I warned you plenty of times, but you wouldn't listen."

My breath hitched for a moment. "What do you mean? You planned this all along?"

She looked at me, keeping her voice low.

"I mean, some women are only meant to be there at the start of a man's journey."

"Not everyone is qualified to walk with him to the end."

"Without me, Adrian wouldn't be anywhere near this successful today. I'm the one he should thank most."

"Then you showed up, took him away, and created this huge mess for him."

"So yes, I'm far better suited to manage and share Adrian's life than you are."

I looked at Adrian, hoping he would say something to push back.

Even just a single word.

To tell Vanessa that she had no right to talk to me like that.

Instead, Adrian merely muttered, "Vanessa, that's enough."

A second later, he added, "Now isn't the time for this."

My last shred of hope vanished right there.

He was never the victim forced into a corner like I had believed; this was his own choice, and he had given up on me first.

As I walked out of the backstage area, my phone buzzed.

An email.

The sender was my agency.

I tapped the attachment.

The opening line hit me instantly.

We regret to inform you that we have decided to suspend Scarlett Monroe's global brand ambassadorship with Lumière.

My hand hovered in midair. This was my biggest project of the year.

A campaign I had spent six months preparing for, turning down countless other jobs in the process.

I looked up at Adrian, who caught my expression.

"What happened?"

I didn't waste my breath telling him what was in the email; he would find out the fallout soon enough.

"Adrian, I regret ever falling for your sweet words and marrying you. Turns out, I never really knew who you were."

Under the dazzling lights of Paris Fashion Week, my husband kept his name intact, while mine was being torn to shreds.