After I Left the A-List Actor, I Won an Oscar

Seconded. No way some screenwriter is prettier than Kate. A hottie like him deserves a real beauty.

I scoffed and liked every single one of those comments.

Back at the villa, I was directing the movers when Marcus called.

"Ms. Pruitt, I just saw what's trending. Let me explain before you get the wrong idea. Noah and Kate are just friends!"

I didn't respond to that. I just asked where Noah was.

He faltered, unsure how to answer.

I laughed.

"He's at the hospital with Kate, isn't he?"

A minute earlier, I'd already seen the video. Noah at her bedside, spoon-feeding her porridge.

Five years together, and even when I had a fever, he'd never once fed me like that.

Noah always said the same thing.

He was busy. He liked girls who were strong.

So I learned to sit through IV drips alone. Learned to take care of myself when I was burning up.

I tried not to be a burden.

But then Kate came back.

Suddenly he wasn't busy anymore. Suddenly it wasn't a hassle.

Marcus sounded even more uncomfortable, his explanation hollow.

"Yes, he's with Ms. Sullivan."

"But there's nothing intimate going on. There are other people in the room..."

"Save it. None of that matters to me anymore."

I looked around the villa, already half-empty, and spoke slowly, deliberately.

"Tell Noah. I'm done. We're over."

Marcus tried to say something else, but I'd already hung up.

When the last box was carried out, I stood in the doorway and looked back.

The closet, cleared out.

The desk, gone.

Even the mug I always used in the kitchen had been tossed into a box.

Four years of living here.

Turns out one night was all it took to erase every trace.

Before getting into the car, I pulled the ring from my bag. The one engraved with both our names.

I'd planned to give it to him tonight.

I looked at it for two seconds.

Then I dropped it into the trash can on the curb.

At the airport, my phone buzzed with a friend request from an unknown number.

The moment I accepted, a photo came through.

A woman's ring finger, a diamond glittering under the light, almost blinding.

Noah gave me this ring. Isn't it gorgeous?

I stared at it for two seconds. Then I smiled.

Kate Sullivan.

She really did know how to make a person sick.

I didn't bother replying. Blocked.

But there was no way I was swallowing this.

I immediately sent Marcus an email.

A full revocation of Noah's filming rights to Gale Force.

And, as sole copyright holder of the screenplay, a unilateral termination of all collaboration with Noah Henson's studio.

One second later, my phone exploded.

"Rosalie! Have you lost your mind?"

Marcus was practically shouting.

"What is this copyright revocation letter supposed to mean?"

"Noah just locked in the investors. They're set to start shooting next month! Do you have any idea how much money is riding on this script?"

"You pull the rights now, and you'll destroy him!"

My voice was flat.

"Destroy him?"

"Marcus, you've got it backwards."

"I wrote that script. I decide who gets it."

He went quiet for a beat, then softened his tone.

"But you two are a couple. You're supposed to spend your lives together. How can you stab him in the back like this?"

"I already explained. There's nothing between him and Kate. I can guarantee you, you're the only one Noah cares about."

"Three months ago, he told us he was going to propose—"

"Enough."

I rubbed my temples, exhaustion settling deep into my bones.

"His reasons don't matter."

"What matters is that he chose to throw me away."