Chapter 4
I thought six months was going to be the worst thing in the file.
I was wrong.
The first page was a couples' watch campaign.
Then a Valentine's short film.
A joint magazine cover.
European brand appearances.
Social interviews.
Daniel and Claire's names sat beside every project.
I kept scrolling.
Then I reached the last one.
[AT HOME WITH DANIEL & CLAIRE]
The description read:
[An intimate look at Daniel Reed's private life.]
Locations:
[Kitchen.]
[Garden.]
[Primary bedroom.]
My hand stopped on the mouse.
That wasn't Daniel's house.
It was ours.
The cut on the kitchen island came from the first birthday dinner I ever cooked for him.
We planted the olive tree in the garden during our third year of marriage.
My father's old camera still sat on the top shelf of our bedroom closet.
At the bottom of the page:
[Remove non-camera personal effects before production.]
I closed the laptop and drove home.
The front door was unlocked.
There were unfamiliar voices inside.
A man was measuring the living-room windows when I entered. Another woman was photographing the kitchen on her phone.
Floor plans covered the dining table.
A young coordinator noticed me.
"Ms. Hart?"
She checked her sheet.
"We thought the property would be empty today."
"What are you doing?"
"Pre-production scout."
She smiled, clearly unaware of where she was standing.
"Daniel's team approved the house for next month's shoot."
I didn't answer.
I went upstairs.
A yellow note had been taped to the bedroom door.
[REMOVE PERSONAL ITEMS BEFORE SHOOT]
I stood there.
My book was still on the nightstand.
My skin care was still in the bathroom.
Half the closet held Daniel's suits.
The other half held my clothes.
Someone had already decided which half counted as personal clutter.
I called Daniel.
He answered on the third ring.
"I'm working."
"You approved filming here?"
A pause.
"You saw the plan."
"You approved it?"
"Yes."
I looked at the note.
"Even the bedroom?"
Daniel sighed.
"It's one shoot."
"And the next six months?"
"Evelyn."
"Six months, Daniel."
His patience finally broke.
"Because it works."
Downstairs, a tape measure snapped back into its case.
A small sound.
Sharp.
Suddenly, I had no more questions.
"Okay."
Daniel went quiet.
Maybe he thought I had finally understood.
"We'll talk when I get home."
"No need."
I ended the call.
An hour later, I sat in a conference room at our management company.
My lawyer hadn't arrived yet, so I went through the existing contracts with the management director.
I terminated Daniel's future personal styling.
Long-term image strategy.
Creative direction on campaigns that had not yet started.
Anything already completed and legally licensed could remain.
My private archives, unused concepts, original backstage material, and anything not covered by an executed agreement could no longer be used.
The director stared at me.
"Are you sure? Daniel has three major appearances next month."
"Then he needs a new stylist."
"Shouldn't you two talk first?"
I looked down at the contract.
"We've been talking for ten years."
By the time my lawyer arrived, I had signed the final termination document.
She placed another set of papers in front of me.
Divorce petition.
Evelyn Hart.
Daniel Reed.
Our names sat beside each other on the same page.
I removed my wedding ring.
It made a soft sound against the wooden table.
"File it."
The next evening, Daniel and Claire appeared together on a brand livestream.
I watched from the small sofa in my studio for less than three minutes.
The host smiled.
"So we're going to be seeing a lot of you two over the next six months?"
Claire laughed.
Daniel nodded.
"There's a lot coming."
The comments raced upward.
One appeared repeatedly:
[Should fans keep hoping there's something real here?]
The host read it aloud.
Claire turned toward Daniel.
Daniel smiled.
"People can enjoy the mystery."
The comment feed exploded with hearts.
Then Daniel's phone lit up beside him.
He looked down.
His smile stopped.
The camera was still live.
Claire kept talking.
Daniel didn't immediately look up.
I didn't wait to see what he did next.
I closed the laptop.
For ten years, I had always prepared Daniel's next move before he needed it.
Now I could finally see that he had planned my future too.
Stay useful.
Stay quiet.
Stay outside the frame.
Fine.
Let him see what his next move looked like without me.