Fifty Million Dollar Contract: My Enemy Husband

Eloise's chest heaved. She stood in the center of the Soho rehearsal studio, her lungs burning as she sucked in the stale air. Sweat dampened the back of her neck, making her blonde hair stick to her skin. She closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to slow, trying to hold onto the desperate, hollow feeling of the lead character in The Mist.

Clara walked across the wooden floor. She handed Eloise a bottle of room-temperature water.

"You need to stop," Clara said quietly. "You've been running this scene for four hours. Your voice is completely gone."

Eloise took the bottle. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unscrewed the cap. Before she could take a sip, the heavy glass door of the studio swung open.

Sloane marched in. Her high heels clicked rapidly against the floorboards. Her face was flushed, and she was waving her tablet in the air.

"Five minutes!" Sloane shouted, her voice echoing off the mirrored walls. "Julian Finch just agreed to give you a five-minute slot tomorrow morning. Five minutes to show him you aren't just some Upper East Side socialite."

Eloise dropped the water bottle. It hit the floor with a dull thud, water spilling over the wood. She covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes burned with sudden heat. This was it. This was the only way out of the golden cage her family had built for her.

From the corner of the room, a phone started ringing.

It was a sharp, customized ringtone. The sound cut through the excitement in the room like a physical blow. Eloise lowered her hands. The smile fell from her face. Her stomach dropped.

She walked over to her bag on the bench. The screen lit up with the name Genevieve.

Eloise picked it up and pressed it to her ear. "Mom, I can't talk right now. Sloane just got me-"

"Get downstairs," her mother's voice snapped through the speaker. It was cold. Absolute. "My driver is waiting outside."

"Mom, you don't understand. Julian Finch is letting me audition. I need to prep-"

"The company is filing for bankruptcy by Friday, Eloise," Genevieve interrupted. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. "Christian Clarke flew back into the city this morning. He is the only one who can inject enough capital to save the Brandt legacy."

Eloise stopped breathing. Her fingers clamped down on the phone. Her nails dug into the plastic case. The name Christian Clarke hit her ears, and all the blood drained from her face. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

"Eloise?" Sloane stepped closer, her brow furrowing. "What's wrong? You look sick."

Eloise swallowed hard. Her throat felt like sandpaper. "I have to go."

She didn't wait for Sloane to argue. She grabbed her wool coat from the chair and practically ran toward the exit. Clara called out her name, but Eloise pushed through the glass door, her sneakers hitting the hallway carpet.

She took the elevator down to the street level. The