Three Years Wasted, So I Reclaim Everything

Chapter 4

I didn't clean myself.

I walked to the monitor, picked up the slate Julian had left there, and smashed it into the spilled coffee.

Plastic shards scattered across the floor. The laughter died.

"Are you insane?" Julian jumped to his feet, shocked and furious.

"I'm causing trouble?" I regarded him without warmth. "Julian, you used the location fee I paid to buy this woman a Hermès bag. Now you want me to clean the floor you dirtied?"

"You investigated me?" His expression tightened. He lowered his voice into a warning. "I've already told PR to deal with the online mess. Keep a low profile and don't drag the crew into this. My evaluation... Don't ruin my film. If you make another scene, I'll replace you."

"Your evaluation requires using me as a prop for your image?" I laughed. "Your performance is awful, Julian. I could have spotted the holes in your accounting when I was 10 years old."

A flash of fear crossed his face before anger took over.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Get out, you lunatic."

I gave him one cold look and walked away.

"Alyssa!"

For a moment, he looked stunned. In 3 years, I had never challenged him on set. I had always been the obedient shadow who accepted everything.

He hurried after me and grabbed my wrist, replacing his anger with the familiar mask of devotion.

"Don't be like this. I know things have been hard lately. Once we wrap, I'll take you to Coral Bay, just the two of us. I promise I'll make it up to you."

It was always the same. Whenever he needed my cooperation or my help concealing his accounts, gentle Julian returned with another promise he never kept.

I remembered a night when he had fallen asleep over a screenplay and I had covered him with a blanket.

He had woken, held me tightly from behind, and whispered with exhausted tenderness, "I don't think I can live without you, Alyssa. Without you, I can't create anything. You're my most precious inspiration."

In that embrace, I had believed we were inseparable. I had believed he loved me.

"Let go."

I yanked my hand away as if his touch had burned me.

Surprise flashed in his eyes. He seemed about to speak when Violet called sweetly from behind us.

"Julian, my scene is coming up. Will you walk me through it? I still don't know some of my lines."

"I'm coming," he answered immediately.

When he turned back, he had resumed his cold, professional expression. His gaze even held reproach.

"Go home and think about what you've done. Stop embarrassing me on set. These tantrums make it look as if I can't manage my assistant."

I watched him hurry toward Violet and drew a heavy red X in my screenplay notebook.

Observation subject fully compromised. 20 days until termination.