Chapter 7
Two weeks later.
Karen stepped out of the Uber outside the Culver City film studio. She wore dark sunglasses to hide the lingering pale exhaustion on her face.
She had survived the pneumonia. She had survived the hospital. She had a movie to shoot.
Eleanor was waiting by the security gate. When she saw Karen, she didn't smile. She looked sick.
Eleanor gripped a rolled-up call sheet in her fist. She couldn't meet Karen's eyes.
"What's wrong?" Karen asked, her chest tightening.
Eleanor swallowed hard. "The studio got a massive cash injection three days ago. The new lead investor bought out the production."
Karen snatched the call sheet from Eleanor's hand.
At the very top, under the heading Lead Actress, the name was printed in bold black ink.
Ayla Conley.
The ground tilted beneath Karen's feet. Israel. He had bought the entire movie just to torture her.
They walked onto the busy outdoor set.
Ayla was standing under the bright production lights, wearing the vintage silk dress that was tailored for Karen.
Ayla saw her. She lifted the hem of the dress and walked over, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.
"Oh, Karen," Ayla whispered, leaning in close. "Israel really does buy me whatever I want."
Karen's face remained stone cold. She didn't blink. She walked right past Ayla and headed straight for the director's trailer.
Julian Carmichael was sitting at a folding table, pulling his hair out over the storyboards. He looked up and flinched when he saw Karen.
"Karen, I am so sorry," Julian pleaded. "I have no power here. The capital controls the casting."
"I understand," Karen said flatly. "I quit."
She turned to leave.
"Wait!" Julian grabbed a different script from the table. "I fought for you. I kept the supporting role. The villain. The best friend who betrays her."
Julian shoved the script toward her. "It has incredible tension. You could steal the movie with this."
Karen looked at the script. If she stayed, she would have to look at Ayla's face every single day. She would trigger the 'unpaid service' clause.
She pushed the script back into Julian's chest.
"No," Karen said firmly. "I will not be her stepping stone."
"They will sue you for breach of contract!" Julian warned.
Karen let out a dry, bitter laugh. "I have nothing left for them to take."
She pushed open the trailer door and stepped back out into the California sun. She was done. She was walking away from Hollywood.
Suddenly, a deafening mechanical roar ripped through the sky.
The wind whipped up violently, knocking over light stands and tearing the canvas off the catering tents. Dust blinded the crew.
Everyone looked up in terror.
A massive black private helicopter, bearing the silver Fernandez Group logo, was descending right into the middle of the outdoor set.
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