Read Chapter 22: The Fallout

The phone did not stop ringing.

Theo stood at the window of his flat, back to the room, watching London gridlock crawl below. His own phone lay face-down on the table, vibrating in intervals like a dying insect. Elise watched it, counting the buzzes. Twelve since she'd arrived. He hadn't looked at a single one.

"Marcus gave them everything," Theo said, voice flat. "Every schedule. Every script revision. Every venue. Eighteen months of my life handed over like a subscription service."

Elise wrapped her hands around the tea she'd made for herself but hadn't drunk. "Camille's already posted three more stories. The one about you and the director on *The Hollow Crown*—she's twisted it so it looks like you got him fired."

"I did get him fired."

Elise blinked. "What?"

Theo turned from the window. His jaw was tight, his eyes hollowed from two sleepless nights. "He was forcing himself on the second AD. I reported him to the union. The studio wanted to keep it quiet, so they let me take the public hit. Marcus knew the truth. Camille doesn't. But she doesn't need the truth, does she? She just needs the shape of a story that fits the one she's already telling."

The phone buzzed again. Theo crossed the room, picked it up, and switched it off. The silence that followed felt enormous.

"You should go," he said. "You have Nathan Cole in less than an hour. If you're late, he'll take it as weakness."

Elise set down her tea and stood. "I'm not going."

Theo's expression flickered. "Elise—"

"I know what you're doing." She walked toward him, stopping a few feet away. "You're pushing me out because you think this is your mess. Your brother. Your agent. Your ex. But Nathan's been circling me since Cannes. He's not interested in you. He's interested in me using you. And he's holding my mother over my head." Her voice caught on the last word. She steadied it. "So I'm not going to let you make this a solo operation."

Theo studied her for a long moment. Then he let out a breath, leaning against the windowsill. "Camille went public that I'm 'difficult to work with.' She released the audio of me arguing with a producer about a stunts budget. Five years old. She's made it sound like I had a tantrum over craft services."

"Did you?"

"I was arguing that the stunt coordinator was underqualified and someone would die." He rubbed his face. "He was my friend. He died two years later on a different set. But nobody knows that because they don't read past the headline."

Elise said nothing. She crossed the room and sat on the arm of a chair near him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

"When I was thirteen," she said quietly, "I was cast in my first major French film. A small role, but it was going to put me on the map. The director was a legend. He was also a drunk." She paused. "He wouldn't let my mother on set. Said she was distracting. She sat in the car for seventeen hours a day, waiting for me."

Theo turned his head toward her.

"I was on set for one scene where he made me do forty takes," Elise continued. "Forty. I was a child. I didn't know what I was doing wrong. He kept saying 'again' without giving me any notes. By take thirty, I was crying, and he started filming that. He said it was 'more honest.'" She looked down at her hands. "My mother got wind of it and walked onto the set like a thunderstorm. She pulled me out of the production. The director tried to blacklist me. She told him—and I quote—'She will be the one they remember, and you will be a footnote in her biography.'"

A small smile crossed her face.

"He died five years ago," Elise said. "His obituary mentioned three films. I've been in twenty. She was right."

Theo was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "What was she like? Your mother."

Elise felt the familiar ache behind her ribs. "She was fearless. Or she pretended to be, which is almost the same thing. She used to say that the only way to survive in this business is to never let them see your fear. Never let them know the thing you love most, because they will use it."

She touched her earlobe. The earrings were still there.

"I broke that rule," she said. "With you."

Theo's gaze softened. "I've never told anyone about the Edinburgh thing. Not my brothers. Not my parents. Not my therapist, and I've had several." He gave a dry laugh. "Marcus knew because he was there. He was my assistant back then, not my agent. My mother had just died. I was fifteen. And my father..." He trailed off.

Elise waited.

"He told me to be strong for the family," Theo said. "He didn't mean it cruelly. He meant it as a compliment. He thought I was the strong one because I didn't cry at the funeral. But I had this watch." He touched his bare wrist. "My mother gave it to me two weeks before she died. She said 'this will always tell you the right time to act.'"

"And you never wore it again after her death," Elise said softly.

Theo shook his head. "I wore it to Edinburgh. A boarding school exchange program. I was trying to be the new boy, the one who was fine. And there was this other student—a boy who was being bullied. I stepped in. I did the thing I thought my mother would want me to do. I stopped it. But the boy who was doing the bullying..." He stared at the floor. "He fell down a stairwell during the fight. He survived. But he had a spinal injury. He'll never walk normally again."

Elise inhaled sharply.

"I didn't push him," Theo said quickly. "I swear. He slipped. But he was the wealthy one, and I was just the French actress's son who was supposedly 'behaving strangely.' My father's lawyers made it go away. The school swept it under the rug. But Camille—" He swallowed. "Camille's father was one of my mother's producers. He knew the story. And he thought the best way to keep leverage over me was to tell Camille everything, in case he ever needed to control me through her."

"Did she use it against you? While you were together?"

Theo shook his head. "No. She held it like a chess piece. She told me once that she found the fact that I could accidentally disable someone 'useful'—she said it proved I had an edge I was hiding." He looked at Elise, something raw and exposed in his eyes. "I think that was the moment I knew I couldn't marry her. She saw my worst memory as a tool."

Elise reached out and took his hand. He looked down at it, surprised, but didn't pull away.

"We're a pair," she murmured. "I'm the one whose career burned because she trusted the wrong people, and you're the one who's never once had a scandal because you've been running from one your entire life."

"Running from it doesn't stop it from chasing you," Theo said. "I've learned that. Camille's been chasing me for years. I just didn't realize she had a map."

They sat in silence for a moment, hands still clasped. The flat was dimming as evening approached.

"I don't have a plan," Elise admitted. "I thought I did. Nathan Cole was my leverage. But he's not leverage anymore, is he? He's an anchor."

Theo squeezed her hand. "Then we cut the line."

"How? He has a meeting with me that I'm about to miss. He has photos. He has production resources. And Camille has Marcus, which means she has a professional partner who knows every secret I've ever told you."

Theo's jaw tightened. "James is the key. Camille is working with Blake & Associates. James's firm. If I can get James to see that Marcus is trading on the family name without his knowledge, he'll sever the connection. That cuts off Camille's production partnership."

"Your brother doesn't know about Marcus?"

"Not yet." Theo stood, pacing. "My instinct was to protect James from this. He's not just my brother—he built that firm from nothing. If it takes a hit because of Marcus's betrayal, James will blame himself. He hired Marcus because I recommended him." He stopped. "That's on me."

Elise rose, moving into his path. "You can't carry that. Marcus was your agent for a decade. He was in your inner circle. You trusted him because he was there during Edinburgh. That's not stupid; that's loyalty being exploited."

Theo looked at her, something shifting behind his eyes. "You keep saying the right thing, you know."

"I'm an actress," Elise said, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. "I'm very good at reading lines."

"No. I mean—" He broke off. "I mean you actually mean it. That's the difference." He reached up, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. "You say what you mean, even when it costs you. That's not an acting skill. That's courage."

Elise felt the room contract. His hand was warm against her skin, and she could see the unspoken words forming in his expression—the confession he'd nearly made in the hotel hallway. She could feel its shape in the air between them.

She didn't step away.

Theo's thumb brushed her cheekbone. "When this is over," he said, voice rough, "I don't want to pretend anymore."

Elise swallowed. "When this is over, we'll be free to choose."

"I'm already free," he said. "I chose you forty-eight hours ago. I just didn't say it out loud."

She pulled back, gently, her heart hammering. "Say it when you can look at me and not see a contract."

Theo's gaze held hers. "Deal."

The Thames glittered through the window. Somewhere across the city, Camille was preparing her broadcast, and Nathan Cole was waiting in a hotel lobby, and Marcus was likely burning every bridge he'd built over his career. The world outside was a war zone.

But inside this quiet room, Elise felt something she hadn't felt in years: hope, tangled up with fear, growing slowly in the wreckage.