Today, I was filming a scene with the notoriously icy, A-list actor, Julian Mercer. When it came time to hold hands, I felt something unexpected. He was… reacting. Physically. I froze. Pulling my hand away felt wrong, but letting him keep holding it felt even worse. Because sitting right behind the monitor, watching every frame like a hawk, was my ex-husband, the famous director Wyatt Hale. His face was currently a shade darker than death, while the surrounding crew members were trying very hard to hide their expressions of pure, unadulterated gossip. 1 Even though Wyatt had directed three movies back-to-back for Summer Rose, taken her to fashion shows in Paris, and bought a luxury love nest, no one thought I would actually divorce him. After all, I had been with him when he was a nobody. Now that he was a "Gold Medal Director," everyone assumed I, the woman who loved him to death, would never let go of the fruits of my labor. But I was the one who proposed the divorce. He refused, dragging it out for two years. At a high-end jewelry gala, I ran into Summer. She brushed past me with her chin held high, unable to resist a jab. "Lexi Shaw, did you know? He says I’m better than you in every way. On screen, and in bed." As the cameras panned toward us, she flashed a sweet, innocent smile, looking every bit the junior admiring her senior. I beamed back, radiant. "In that case, Miss Rose, your acting skills are truly top-tier. After all, Wyatt is painfully mediocre in bed. You’ve had it rough." Summer’s face cracked. I reached out and scratched her chin gently, like I was petting a kitten. With the flashbulbs blinding us, I leaned in and whispered in her ear: "Why don't you convince him to sign the divorce papers? It would save you from being called a homewrecker every day." Summer turned pale. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and posed for a gracious photo. That night, Wyatt came back to our Beverly Hills villa, holding the photo of me and Summer. "Summer is just a kid. You’re a triple-crown winning actress; why bully her? Where’s your dignity?" I slammed the divorce papers in front of him again and uncapped a pen. Wyatt sighed and took the pen. "It was my infidelity. I can leave you the money and the assets. But you… you can’t find anyone else." "Wyatt, whether I find someone else is none of your business." He put one hand in his pocket, looked me over with arrogant confidence, and scoffed. "Forget it. You’re practically frigid anyway. In this world, besides me, no man would put up with you. Lexi, just wait a few years. When I’m bored of her, I’ll come back." With that, he scribbled his signature on the papers. 2 A month later, I joined the cast of Wyatt’s new film. This contract had been signed years ago. It was supposed to be my movie. But Wyatt had slashed the script to pieces, elevating Summer to the lead and using me as a stepping stone to boost her career. Before filming started, my agent and the producers fought tooth and nail. Summer marched onto my trailer, flashing an eight-carat engagement ring. It was a ring I had seen with Wyatt years ago. Back then, he was broke. I had chosen a one-carat ring instead, telling him, "One carat is beautiful. It means you’re the one." "Lexi," Summer gloated, "Wyatt said money was tight, but he borrowed from friends because he refused to let me suffer. Think about it. What do you have?" I took a calm sip of my coffee. "Not much. Just several villas under his name, ten million in cash, and a chunk of his company stocks." Summer’s mouth twitched, but she suppressed her rage. The trailer smelled of rich, freshly brewed coffee. I looked at her. "Want a cup, Miss Rose? These beans are Colombian. Quite good." Summer smiled tightly. "Lexi, don't think just because you have an Oscar you can be a diva. The whole crew is waiting for you. Do you know how much money is lost for every day of delay?" The production assistant stepped onto the trailer. He looked at me with pleading eyes. "Ms. Shaw, Wyatt was wrong… I apologize on his behalf… but please, give him some face. The producer said the next project will be a good one for you…" I had expected this. I’ve been in this industry a long time; I’ve swallowed my pride before. Emotions are a luxury I quit long ago. Besides, giving Summer more screen time wouldn't help if she couldn't carry the emotional weight of the role. Bad acting is embarrassing no matter how many lines you have. "Just this once," I said. The PA looked like he’d been granted amnesty. Just then, my agent stepped onto the trailer. She took a deep breath, looking like she’d just won the lottery. "The male lead has been replaced. It’s Julian Mercer." Julian Mercer. He won Best Actor at Venice at twenty-two. He had swept every major award globally and was notoriously reclusive. My agent looked at me. "Julian said he liked the original script. The investors agreed. We are shooting the original script." 3 Outside the cast hotel, a crowd of Summer’s rabid fans had gathered. Every day, when Summer left for set, they would scream and snap photos. Summer would wave with that sugary smile. "Ahhh! My daughter! She waved at me!" "Summer and Wyatt standing together… it’s giving Mafia boss and his baby girl. I’m obsessed." "Wyatt lost interest in Lexi ages ago. Who wants a damaged woman?" "Yeah, I heard women with Lupus can’t have kids. Useless." "I heard Wyatt loved Lexi so much he donated a kidney to her back in the day. What a devoted man." I met Wyatt the year I recovered from Lupus, right after my kidney transplant. The line that moved me most was when he said, "Lexi, I’m grateful I met you when you were fragile. Otherwise, a guy like me would never have had a chance." Later, when he was caught leaving Summer’s apartment, he spent a fortune buying the photos. He thought I leaked them. So, he "accidentally" revealed my medical history. He planted the fake story about donating his kidney to gain sympathy, then announced the divorce, implying he wanted kids and I couldn't provide them. Perhaps fearing backlash against Summer, he hadn't officially announced their relationship. But their "CP" fans were already shipping them hard. Wyatt looked at Summer with doting eyes amidst the screams. Then he looked at me with feigned innocence, as if he wanted no part of the drama. Nausea rose in my throat. I tossed my coffee cup toward a trash can. I missed. The entire contents splashed onto a tall man in a white coat. 4 The brown liquid soaked into the pristine fabric. The wind rustled through the trees. He smelled of cold cedar and winter air. "Oh my god! Julian Mercer!" "He’s even more handsome in person!" "I can't wait to see him act with Lexi!" "There’s some weird chemistry there already." I had a tissue in my hand, but I didn't reach out to wipe him down. I put it away. "I'm sorry. I'll pay for the coat." When Wyatt shot his first indie film, Julian had already won his second Silver Bear in Berlin. We had watched the livestream together. My eyes hadn't left Julian’s face. Wyatt had been jealous then. "I knew you liked that type." Now, Wyatt watched helplessly as Julian extended a hand to me. "It's just a coat. No worries. Ms. Shaw, a pleasure." I shook his hand lightly. "Mr. Mercer, the pleasure is mine." His assistant rushed over to take the coat for cleaning. As Julian took it off, a worn leather passport holder fell out of the pocket. It flipped open. Inside was a passport photo of a girl in a British high school uniform. Me. Young, bright, and unscarred. Sharp-eyed crew members saw it, but no one dared to speak. Julian calmly picked it up and closed it. "Just got off the plane. Forgot to pack it away." 5 I was in the studio taking promotional stills. When it came time to select the photos, Wyatt cleared the room. His eyes were glued to my face. "Happy now? You get to work with Julian Mercer." I stared at the monitor, ignoring him. "Don't get any ideas. So what if you’re an award winner? You’re a divorcée. A family like the Mercers only marries into old money. Give it up." To avoid scratching his face, I took off my ring. Then I slapped him. My hand stung. Two years ago, when he first started sleeping with Summer, I screamed and fought. Wyatt enjoyed it. It made him feel important. Later, my heart went cold, and I stopped reacting. "Wyatt, I took this job to repay a favor to the producer. I have no obligation to listen to your barking." Wyatt looked stunned, then almost aroused by the violence. "Lexi, are you jealous? Do you... do you regret divorcing me? If you say the word, I won't marry anyone else." I replayed the producer's begging in my head and held back my vomit. Outside, Summer was peeking anxiously. I calmly put my ring back on. Summer walked in, eyeing Wyatt’s red cheek. She assumed we were fighting about her engagement ring. "Lexi, are you throwing a tantrum because Wyatt bought me a diamond? You’re divorced. He left you the assets. Is this necessary?" Wyatt put on his impatient, arrogant mask. "Summer, Lexi is your senior. Learn your place." Summer looked at him with puppy-dog eyes and shut up. Wyatt smirked, satisfied. The dynamic was suffocating.
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