The picture of Penny Wells, a young ingenue known for her ethereal beauty, sitting on my husband’s lap hit the headlines, and the entire internet was waiting for my reaction. For years, whenever Damon Cole—the celebrated, self-proclaimed genius director—had a scandal, I was the one who stepped out. I would smile for the cameras, post a perfectly staged photo, and dutifully perform the role of the stable, devoted wife, publicly vouching for our rock-solid marriage and deep emotional connection. Damon, naturally, expected me to maintain the illusion of marital bliss this time, too. When the media caught up with him, his tone was carelessly dismissive. “It was just a work meeting, part of securing a new project,” he’d explained. “She’s the leading lady for my next film.” He paused, adding the calculated line: “Seeing her reminds me of my wife when she was younger.” Online, clickbait sites were busy looping our wedding video. Damon kissing me, slipping the ring onto my finger, and declaring with theatrical sincerity: “I love you, more than life itself.” A popular gossip account bluntly captioned the clip: “Guess Director Cole’s life isn’t that important after all.” My agent, Yvette Miller, called. “Joss, are we going to pay to bury this one?” “No,” I said. “Not this time. Not ever again.” I looked down at the external hard drive clutched in my hand. The confusion and loss that had once dominated me were gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I had reached my goal. The marriage I had endured for years was finally coming to an end. 1 “Joss, have you read Damon’s new script?” “No, I haven’t. Why?” Yvette hesitated. “The heroine of the film is a debut actress whose face was disfigured in a car accident.” A cold dread sank deep in my chest, and a chilling wind seemed to sweep through my core. I was the one whose face had been half-ruined by a car accident. It happened years ago. Damon had shot a searing, realist film exposing the corruption of a powerful syndicate. While he was shielded by high-level protection, I, his unsuspecting girlfriend, became the syndicate’s target—the proxy for their fury. My parents died in that crash. My younger brother was left in a persistent vegetative state. I survived, but half my face was scarred, and my nascent acting career was instantly annihilated. Partners canceled contracts. A major film role I had fought for was recast. Damon, meanwhile, became an overnight success. The film was his breakthrough, bringing him fame, wealth, and entry into the elite circle of Hollywood power brokers. I plummeted into an abyss. He stepped in, covering the astronomical contract penalties, overseeing my physical therapy, and painstakingly helping me walk through the wreckage of my life. He even personally penned a screenplay, tailoring the lead role for me, orchestrating my return to the screen. He proposed the night I won my first major award. The entire industry lauded his deep devotion. His profile soared higher, and his company’s stock valuation climbed steadily. The façade held until three years ago when he was photographed leaving a hotel with a film student. That was Damon’s first time cheating. He brushed off the criticism and installed the student as the lead actress in his next film. Everyone advised me to be pragmatic. This is how the industry works, they said. Damon’s been better to you than most men would be. Yet, my heart had never felt so utterly calm. I printed a divorce agreement. When I presented the papers, he dropped to his knees, his eyes red with performative tears. “Joss, I was just rehearsing lines with her. Her image was perfect for the role. The internet is just rumor and conjecture.” I held firm. He tore the document to shreds and kicked over a chair. “After all these years, are you really questioning my commitment? I only love you. That woman was an accident, a momentary slip.” He pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice as emotionally resonant as ever. “If you’re unhappy about her being my lead, I’ll write a script just for you, a new one. I’ll make sure you get an Oscar nomination—they won’t dare deny me. Don’t be dramatic, Joss. How will you survive in this industry without me?” I insisted on moving into the guest room, separating our lives. I refused the tailored script he offered and signed on for a different project. Days before shooting began, the production company suddenly backed out. “I’m so sorry, Joss,” the producer, who was a friend, told me apologetically. “We found a better fit. We’ll pay the penalty, of course.” He then whispered that Damon had personally contacted the investors and had me replaced. Not only that, but every script, every commercial deal, every opportunity that came my way from then on was instantly withdrawn. To make sure I stayed obedient, Damon replaced my brother’s specialist. “Dr. Ellis is the foremost authority on neurorehabilitation, a fan of mine, and someone I paid a fortune to bring in. You know what to do, Joss.” I lowered my eyes. “I’ll move back to the master suite tonight.” He pulled me into his arms. “I’ve already dismissed that woman. I rewrote the script; the lead role is yours. Joss, I only love you. These things happen in Hollywood. I lost my way, but I promise there won’t be a next time.” When the film wrapped, he threw a spectacular anniversary party on set. While heading to the makeup trailer to grab something, I saw him passionately kissing the supporting actress. She met my eyes, a blatant smirk of triumph on her face. I closed the door quietly and stopped anyone else from walking in. 2 From that day on, Damon was repeatedly photographed with a stream of different women. He knew I wouldn't—couldn't—leave him. To protect his "devoted husband" brand and keep the company stock steady, he commanded me to participate in his performance. I had to maintain the illusion of a happy marriage and personally squash his scandals. Then, yesterday, I went to see my brother. I walked in just as he fell down the stairs, hitting his head. The sight of the blood was a searing pain that shattered my heart completely. He managed to utter one single word: “Go.” This marriage truly had to end. Though in a vegetative state, my brother had always been aware of the outside world. I constantly talked to him, sharing everything about my life and career. He knew how miserable I had been for years. Yesterday, he had woken up. He saw Damon cheating with a nurse in his hospital room. Unable to reach me, he crawled out of bed, tried to leave the room, and fell down the stairs. He woke up. And then he lost his life. “Joss, are you absolutely sure about this?” Yvette asked, concern thick in her voice. “I’m sure.” “Damon will never agree. Without him, you’ll be blacklisted. He genuinely can destroy your career.” My voice was tranquil. “I don’t care. If I can’t hack it, I won’t.” I hung up just as Damon walked in. He reflexively opened his arms to hug me, and I sidestepped him. His face hardened instantly. “What’s with the attitude?” “You know perfectly well why I’m upset.” Damon sighed. “I know your brother’s passing has hit you hard. Honestly, it was so unnecessary. I was just in the bathroom in his room. Why didn’t he ring the bell? Why go out alone? It was an accident. No one wanted this.” I closed my eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me. My heart felt like a hollowed-out space where a vital organ had been crudely removed. Damon ignored my pain entirely, grabbing my hand to lead me out. “Don’t dwell on it. I’ve saved a role for you in the new script, you’ll love it. I set up a dinner; you need to meet people. Penny is the lead. She’s a newcomer, so look out for her.” His lips curved into a gentle smile. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Did you know? Penny is pregnant.” I froze completely. A thousand tiny arrows from every direction pierced me, pinning me to the floor. I stared at Damon, speechless, my voice a dry rasp, as if a large stone was lodged in my throat. “Pregnant?” “Yes.” Damon’s eyes were sparkling with a joyous pride, completely oblivious to my reaction. “I wanted to delay shooting, but Penny is committed; she doesn’t want to hold up the production. I need you to take good care of her on set. And the baby, of course. Right, Joss?” I clenched my fists so tightly my nails nearly broke the skin on my palms. I managed a faint, whispered acknowledgment. 3 The atmosphere in the private dining room quickly became strained until someone made a clumsy joke: “Only Director Cole can handle this—living the dream with two beautiful women.” Everyone forced a laugh. Damon, beaming, put his arm around my shoulder. “Of course. That’s what you get when you marry Joss.” Penny raised her glass of juice. “Let’s toast Joss. This film wouldn’t exist without her. My character, the heroine, is actually based on her life.” My face instantly drained of color. I looked up and met Penny’s eyes, which held a distinct spark of challenge. Yvette had hinted at the script's theme, but hearing the confirmation now filled me with utter, chilling despair. I turned to Damon, my voice shaking. “Is the film really based on the car crash?” Damon shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. Penny’s voice rang out, deliberately loud. “It is! And Joss is playing the mother—you know, to reflect the passage of time.” The mother... My mother. The parents who died in that accident. I slammed my hand down, knocking over Penny’s juice glass. My entire body was trembling. “Damon, how could you... How dare you?” Penny shrieked, clutching her hand, and retreated into Damon’s arms. “Joss, did I say something wrong? You hit me! My stomach hurts.” Damon looked at me with open displeasure, but paused when he saw the tears filling my eyes. “It happened years ago,” he said dismissively. “Using it as source material for a film is a great idea. It’s perfect PR, and it will boost your profile.” Before I could speak, he told Penny: “That’s enough, you. Show your sister-in-law some respect.” Penny pouted but settled down. For the rest of the dinner, I sat like a puppet, hearing them discuss investments, roles, and the screenplay. The words registered in my ears, but my soul felt as if it were floating high above my body. Mid-meal, I went to the ladies’ room. Penny followed me in. “Joss, you don’t know this, but I suggested this story to Damon,” she whispered, leaning close. “I told him I wanted to play the heroine, and he agreed without a second thought.” She lowered her voice further, into a poisonous hiss. “Not only that, but I suggested a more dramatic twist: that after the crash, the heroine’s parents don’t die right away. They watch, helpless, as she’s... assaulted.” Slap! I struck her hard across the face. Penny stumbled backward and sat down heavily on the tiled floor. “Ah! My belly! It hurts so bad!” Quick footsteps approached. Damon rushed around the corner and scooped Penny into his arms. “Penny! What happened?” Penny looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “Damon, I don’t know! Joss suddenly slapped me, and then she pushed me! I’m terrified... is our baby okay?” “I didn’t—” I only managed two words before Damon suddenly drew his hand back, ready to strike me. I flinched, closing my eyes, but his blow never landed. He glared at me, his rage simmering. “Jocelyn Yu, I didn’t want to go along with all of Penny’s darkest suggestions, but since you have no control over your temper, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” Damon carried Penny away without looking back. I yelled at his retreating figure. “I didn’t push her!” Damon’s steps paused for a fraction of a second, but he kept walking. I leaned against the sink, tears streaming down my face, splashing onto the polished countertop. Even though I had already decided to end this, the pain was excruciating. It hurts so much. He knew. He knew that incident was the unspeakable, agonizing pain of my life. My eternal nightmare. Yet, he was doing it anyway. Using it as a screenplay, turning it into a commercial film. I decided I had to go to him, beg him, and concede anything to stop him from grossly fictionalizing my trauma. I pushed the study door ajar, intending to walk in, but froze when I heard Penny’s voice. “Damon, can the heroine be disfigured and disabled? It’s not tragic enough otherwise. These kinds of movies are all about how much the audience can empathize with the suffering. The hero's devotion is only showcased by her painstaking recovery.” She paused. “Also, let’s make it that the mother could have lived, but she watched the assault and died of shock.” Damon didn't look up from his papers. “Fine. Whatever you want.” Penny’s voice was triumphant. “And since you and Joss never had kids anyway, why don’t we write that the car accident destroyed the heroine’s uterus and she had to have a hysterectomy...” “Wait...” Damon sounded a little hesitant. Penny coaxed him. “Damon, you promised you’d do whatever I wanted.” “All right,” he conceded. I slowly released the doorknob. Through the slight gap, my eyes locked with Penny’s. She knew I was there. Like a ghost, I retreated to my room. I found the external hard drive and sent a text to one person: Advance the plan.
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