The night I won Best Actress, haters leaked a video of me, six years ago, heavily pregnant. The room erupted. Reporters swarmed, their questions a barrage of noise. "Cora! Who is the child's father?" I glanced over at Alistair Brain, his face a mask of pure shock. For the first time, the man of unshakable composure had lost it. I smiled at the reporters. "I don't have a child." The day Alistair left me for his childhood sweetheart, he sealed our fate. There would never be anything between us again. 1 "If you run into Charlotte Vance, pretend you don't see her. Do not, under any circumstances, start another fight." My agent’s words were a frantic hiss as I stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet. And why? Because Charlotte's backer was Alistair Brain. The Brain family owned half of Hollywood. There was an old, crude saying in the industry: Want to be a star? Sleep with a Brain. And while it was crass, it was true. Every woman who’d ever been linked to Alistair had seen her career skyrocket. I was the one exception. I was the only woman to have publicly dated Alistair Brain and ended up nearly blacklisted. My crime? I had offended his precious childhood sweetheart. For the next six years, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much critics praised my performances, I never won a single award. Year after year of being the runner-up had worn away all my sharp edges. I learned to keep my distance. I avoided any event where Charlotte might be present. If she expressed interest in a script, I would graciously decline, citing scheduling conflicts. Perhaps my silent surrender had finally paid off. Or perhaps, with her and Alistair's wedding on the horizon, she no longer saw me as a threat. Whatever the reason, this year, they had deigned to let an award slip through their fingers and into my hands. When my agent got the news, she nearly burst into tears. "Cora," she’d said, her voice thick with emotion, "the hard times are finally over." Alistair was finally willing to let me go. Even though our breakup hadn't been my fault, I stood no chance against him. I had surrendered long ago. 2 My agent had just finished warning me about Charlotte when, as if on cue, Charlotte herself sashayed over and invited me to walk the red carpet with her. The Brain heir's new flame and his old one, standing side-by-side. The photo op alone was a gossip columnist’s dream. I knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted to humiliate me, and not just by flaunting her status as Alistair's current girlfriend. We were both wearing gowns from the same designer. Hers, of course, was from the latest collection. Mine was last season's. I could already picture the headlines, the sneering comments from her fans and my haters, mocking me for being a has-been. But it didn't matter. I had no intention of competing with her over a dress, and I certainly had no illusions about Alistair coming back to me. If she wanted to be the star, I would be the quiet backdrop. But my compliance didn't seem to satisfy her. She leaned in, her voice a low hiss. "Cora, did you know Alistair is coming tonight?" I didn't. Alistair and I hadn't spoken a word since the day we broke up. We had severed all ties completely. Still, the sound of his name made my heart skip a beat. Charlotte noticed, and a smug, mocking smile spread across her face. "Don't get any ideas. He's here for me, not you." "I know." While the Brains had their hands in everything, Alistair himself never attended industry events. Not even for me, not even when we were at our happiest. "We're getting married soon," she added, a final twist of the knife. I nodded and turned to her, forcing a sincere smile. "I wish you both happiness." My meekness must have bored her, or maybe she was just anxious to find Alistair. The moment we were off the carpet, she vanished. I posed for the cameras and answered a few questions. The reporters were surprisingly tactful; no one mentioned Alistair. Our relationship had been a whirlwind romance, but the ending had been a spectacular, public crash. Alistair, the man himself, had found out he’d been dumped the same way the rest of the world did: by seeing it trending online. I was in an interview, and the reporters were fishing for details about our relationship. But all I gave them were five, quiet words. "We've broken up." No warning. No explanation. 3 Alistair called me once after that. There was no explanation, no apology, not even a question of why. Just a cold confirmation. "Are you sure about this?" I murmured a soft, "Yes." He was silent for a beat, and then he hung up. I had expected him to be furious. He’d spent his life being catered to, never once defied. And here I was, dumping him, and he wasn’t even the first to know. The hashtag #AlistairBrainGotDumped stayed at the top of the trending list for three days straight. He never had it taken down. My agency, terrified of offending the Brains, tried to have it removed, but it would reappear less than a minute later. It wasn't about his humiliation. It was a warning to me. And sure enough, from that day on, my career became an uphill battle. Six years passed. Six years for his anger to cool. Six years, until he and Charlotte were about to be married. The memories flickered through my mind, leaving me dazed. The host called my name twice before I snapped back to the present. The applause was thunderous. Everyone was happy for me. Through the crowd, I glanced at the front row. Charlotte was there, an empty seat beside her. There was no nameplate, but everyone knew. That was Alistair’s seat. He hadn't arrived yet. Good. That would save us both a lot of awkwardness. But as I stepped onto the stage and looked up to begin my acceptance speech, my breath caught in my throat. There he was. Sitting perfectly composed in his seat. It had been years. He carried himself with an even colder, more formidable air now. When our eyes met, his were completely devoid of emotion. He looked at me as if I were a stranger. I steadied myself and began my speech. 4 I was halfway through when a commotion started in the audience. It was more than just whispers. People were trying to be quiet, but the story was too shocking, their voices rising in pitch despite their best efforts. My haters had just leaked a video. A video of me, six years ago, heavily pregnant. It was from right after Alistair and I had broken up. I’d tried to lose myself in work, but just before filming was set to begin, I discovered I was pregnant. I dropped out of the film and disappeared from the public eye for an entire year. The footage was from a security camera in my old apartment building. I don't remember where I was going that day, but I wasn't wearing a mask. My face was perfectly clear. As I walked off stage, clutching my award, my agent and assistant rushed forward, trying to form a protective barrier around me. But it was too late. The reporters were on us like a pack of wolves. Cameras and microphones were shoved in my face, a cacophony of voices all asking the same question. "Ms. Evans, who is the child's father?" I was trapped, unable to move. Across the room, Alistair sat untouched. No one dared to approach him. If we were still together, perhaps they would have shown me a little more courtesy. I saw the shock on Alistair's face, the way his fingers, which had been resting casually on the armrest, were now clenched into a white-knuckled fist. He knew who the father was. And so, for the first time in public, the man of unshakable composure had lost it. I didn't answer their question directly. Instead, I just smiled and denied it all. "I don't have a child." 5 I've never seen a Best Actress flee an awards show like a refugee. My gown was trampled and torn. I lost an earring in the chaos. A horde of reporters chased after me, turning my moment of triumph into a desperate escape. My agent and assistant were pale with shock. It wasn't until we were safely in the car that they finally spoke. "What the hell was that? You have a kid? Alistair's? Where is the child now?" There were too many questions. I managed a weak, bitter smile, not knowing where to begin. My current team wasn't with me back then. Everything they knew about me and Alistair, they'd learned from gossip sites and rumors. When I vanished for that year, everyone assumed I'd been blacklisted. When I finally returned to the industry, the narrative shifted. They said I’d been so heartbroken that I’d needed a year to travel and heal. No one in the industry knew what really happened during that lost year. Not even my agent. Until tonight, when they, along with the rest of the world, saw that video and came to the only logical conclusion: I had gone away to have a baby.
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