"Hearts at War"

Chapter 1

AVERY

It was a chilly Saturday morning, the kind that made you want to stay bundled up and cozy. I was deeply engrossed in reading my scripts, my focus so intense that the rest of the world seemed to blur into the background. Then, for the seventh time, the sharp ringing of my cellphone shattered the quiet.

The device sat on the table, vibrating insistently as if demanding my attention. Annoyed, I cast it another glance, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. It had been ringing incessantly for a while now, and I had deliberately chosen to ignore it. My concentration was locked onto my movie scripts, and I didn’t want to be distracted. The stories were unfolding before me, and I was determined not to let anything pull me away from this moment.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling up inside me like a pot about to boil over. Irritation coursed through me, tightening my grip on the script in my hand. After a moment of hesitation, and with a resigned sigh, I finally gave in.

With a heavy heart and a twinge of reluctance, I picked up the phone, refusing to even glance at the caller ID. My patience was already worn thin. Pressing the phone to my ear, I forced out a curt greeting.

“Hello?” My voice carried a sharp edge, betraying the annoyance I felt for being pulled away from my work.

"Oh, fantastic! It’s about time you decided to answer my call," snapped the voice on the other end of the line.

I froze for a moment, caught off guard by the irritation lacing his tone. My eyes instinctively shifted to the screen of my phone to confirm the caller. Double f**k.

"Devon?" I said, already bracing myself. "I’m sorry for missing your calls. What’s going on?" I asked, my voice trying to mask the slight twinge of guilt as I addressed Devon Martinez—my ever-efficient but impatient manager.

"Next time, pick up the phone immediately, okay? You know I hate being ignored, Avery," Devon scolded, his frustration evident.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, my patience already thinning. How was I supposed to know it was him calling? "Ugh, I was busy here, and I don’t like being distracted," I retorted, my tone dripping with irritation.

“Whatever. Anyway, where the hell are you? Why aren’t you at your condo? I was there earlier. What planet have you wandered off to this time?” Devon's voice, sharp and impatient, came through the phone like a whip, snapping me out of my brief moment of peace.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in exasperation. His tone always carried a flair for the dramatic, and right now, it was testing my already-thin patience. Ignoring his irritation, I casually lifted my mug, savoring another sip of my favorite coffee. The rich, comforting taste momentarily grounded me.

“I’m at my parents’ house,” I replied nonchalantly, leaning back in my chair as if his frustration was the least of my concerns. “It’s the weekend, remember?”

“What!? Why are you there? Don’t you know your photoshoot at ChicCraft Atelier is scheduled for today?”

Devon's words hit me like a splash of cold water, shattering the peaceful bubble I had been savoring.

“Huh?” I froze mid-sip, the warmth of my coffee still lingering on my tongue. The mug hovered in the air, forgotten for a moment as my brain scrambled to process his words. The enjoyment I’d been relishing just seconds ago dissolved into a rising sense of panic.

“Damn it, Avery. Your shoot starts at 10 a.m., and it’s already 8:45 a.m.!”

Devon's exasperated voice rang in my ears, every word dripping with urgency and frustration. My heart sank as the gravity of his words hit me.

Without wasting another second, I lunged for my notepad, fumbling to flip through the pages. My fingers trembled slightly as I scanned my schedule for the day. And there it was, staring back at me like a cruel reminder of my negligence. Triple damn. Devon was right. I had completely forgotten about the shoot.

“s**t. I’m ending this call—I need to get ready,” I blurted out, my voice tinged with rising panic.

“As you should,” Devon replied curtly, his tone as sharp as ever. He didn’t wait for another word from me and promptly ended the call, leaving nothing but silence and the mounting pressure of time ticking away.

I jumped to my feet, rushing to the shower room as fast as I could. The water cascaded over me in hurried waves as I took the quickest shower of my life. My hands worked at lightning speed, combing through my hair and dabbing on just enough makeup to look presentable.

Once ready, I slipped into a simple yet stylish outfit: lavender skinny jeans that hugged my legs perfectly, paired with a navy-blue tank top. To elevate the look, I chose a pair of three-inch tiger-printed stilettos that added a touch of fierce elegance.

Standing in front of the mirror, I gave myself a once-over, adjusting a strand of hair here and straightening a wrinkle there. When I finally felt satisfied with how I looked, I stepped out of the room, my heels clicking softly against the floor as I descended the staircase with purpose.

As I descended the stairs, the familiar hum of conversation and clinking dishes greeted me. I stepped into the kitchen and saw my parents seated at the table, enjoying breakfast with my siblings. The warm, homey scene momentarily filled me with a pang of guilt for having to rush out.

I approached them, offering a small, apologetic smile. “Mom, Dad, I have to go,” I began, my tone regretful but firm. “I’m sorry—Devon just called, and I completely forgot I have a photoshoot scheduled today.”

They looked up from their meal, their expressions shifting from surprise to mild concern as I shifted my weight anxiously, ready to dash out the door.

“Is that so? When will you be back?” my mom asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

“I’m not sure yet,” I replied honestly, glancing at the clock. “But I’ll be back to sleep here tonight.”

Leaning forward, I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a small gesture to reassure her. “I really have to go now. Bye, everyone,” I said, turning to address the rest of the family with a quick wave before hurrying toward the door.

“Don’t you want the driver to take you?” my dad asked, his eyes never leaving the newspaper he was reading. His voice was calm, almost casual, but I could sense the subtle undertone of concern.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I replied quickly, grabbing my bag and heading toward the door. “I’ll just bring Amelia with me.”

Amelia—my ever-reliable personal assistant—was more than capable of helping me get through the chaos of the day ahead. The thought of her brought me a bit of comfort as I mentally prepared myself for the whirlwind waiting for me.

“All right, take care,” my dad said, his tone steady but warm.

“I will. Toodles!” I called out, flashing a quick smile before heading out of the mansion. I made my way to my car, and as I approached, the security guards promptly opened the gate with their usual efficiency.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I started the engine and felt a small surge of excitement as the car hummed to life. I pulled onto the road, the stereo playing an old English rock song that filled the car with a nostalgic energy. I found myself humming along, the rhythm keeping me company as I navigated through the streets.

But my good mood didn’t last long. Twenty minutes later, I was drumming my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, my irritation growing by the second. Traffic. Of course. It had to be traffic. The long line of barely moving cars felt like an insult to my already tight schedule.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, my frustration bubbling over as the honking of horns around me added to the chaos. My annoyance deepened when my phone began ringing, its shrill tone piercing through the already tense atmosphere.

Grumbling, I reached into my bag, pulled it out, and answered with a sharp, “Hello?” My tone was anything but polite.

“Where are you now?” Devon's voice came through the line, laced with irritation. I could practically hear him pacing on the other end. “Devon, if you don’t want me to give you a full-blown lecture, will you please hurry up?”

His words only fueled my growing frustration, but I bit back a retort, knowing there wasn’t time to argue.

“Give me five minutes. I’m almost there, just stuck in traffic,” I snapped, my tone clipped and impatient. Before Devon could respond, I ended the call with a frustrated tap on the screen. Tossing my phone onto the passenger seat, I rolled down the window to get a better look at the stagnant line of vehicles ahead.

“Damn this traffic!” I shouted into the air, my voice competing with the cacophony of honking horns around me. My fingers jabbed at the car horn repeatedly, as if it could magically clear the road. “Ugh, I hate this day!”

Exasperated, I leaned back against the seat’s headrest and let out a deep, defeated sigh. My mind raced as I replayed the route I’d taken, regret creeping in. Why didn’t I just take the shortcut through the boulevard?

The tension in my chest grew heavier with every passing minute. Devon was bound to lose his mind if I arrived late, and I could already picture his wrath. God help me, or Devon's going to skin me alive.

Frustrated, I glanced at the time displayed on my sleek Bvlgari wristwatch. A quarter past 10 a.m. Damn it! My chest tightened with panic and annoyance as I groaned and let my face collapse against the steering wheel. A string of curses escaped my lips, muffled by the leather.

Traffic is my worst enemy, I thought bitterly, gripping the wheel as though it was responsible for my misery. To make things worse, I absolutely despise being rushed—something I was experiencing in full force right now.

Slowly, I lifted my head, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, and my eyes instinctively scanned the road ahead. The flow of traffic hadn’t improved one bit. But then, something caught my attention—a giant billboard standing tall off to the side of the street.

For a brief moment, the irritation bubbling within me dissipated, replaced by a soft, involuntary smile. The billboard was a pleasant distraction, its vibrant image pulling me away from my mounting frustration.

Well, who else could it be on that billboard but me?

The image was from a photoshoot taken a month ago for a renowned fashion line owned by one of the country’s most celebrated fashion icons.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the massive display. It was impossible to miss—an absolute showstopper. And why wouldn’t it be? I’m Avery Montclair, after all. An award-winning actress, recognized as one of the country’s most talented and sought-after stars.

Beyond acting, I’ve also made my mark as a model, with over seven successful years in the entertainment and fashion industries. And as if my career accomplishments weren’t enough, I’m currently in a relationship with Blake Sykes, a prominent business tycoon. We’ve been together for five months now, and our partnership is just as high-profile as the rest of my life.