Read Chapter 27: The Payment Due

The dressing room smelled of dust and someone else's perfume. Theo sat on the edge of a prop crate, elbows on his knees, watching Elise pace the narrow strip of floor between the vanity and the door. Her confession still hung in the air between them—real, irreversible, broadcast to every screen in the country.

"We need to move," she said, stopping in front of him. "Camille's people will be looking for us. Security won't hold them off forever."

Theo pulled out his phone. Dead. He held it up. "Yours?"

Elise checked hers. Also dead. "Vivienne's going to kill me. Then revive me. Then kill me again."

A knock came at the door—three quick taps. Elise tensed. Theo rose, positioning himself between her and the entrance.

"It's Jules," a voice said. The security guard who'd cleared the loading dock. "We need to go. The press found the service entrance."

Theo opened the door a crack. Jules's face was flushed, a radio crackling in his hand. "I've got a car waiting at the dock. But there's something else."

"What?"

Jules glanced at Elise, then back at Theo. "A courier dropped this off for Ms. Moreau. Right after the press conference ended. Said it was urgent." He held out a thick manila envelope.

Elise took it, frowning. The envelope was unmarked, sealed with tape. She tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper—and a photograph.

Theo watched her face go pale.

"What is it?"

She handed him the paper without a word. The photograph she kept, turning it over in her trembling fingers.

The letter was typed, no signature.

*Ms. Moreau—*

*The balance of our agreement is due within forty-eight hours. The amount remains as originally contracted. When payment is received, my insurance policy disappears. When it does not, the policy is submitted to every major outlet before sunrise.*

*You know how to reach me.*

Theo read it twice. "What agreement? What balance?"

Elise's laugh was hollow. She turned the photograph around. It showed the two of them—Theo and Elise—in a quiet corner of a restaurant, weeks ago, his hand on her arm, her face tilted up toward his. The angle was intimate. Manufactured. Exactly the kind of image a blackmailer could use to prove the relationship was staged.

"This was taken during our contract," she said quietly. "Marcus had me followed. He knew about the arrangement before the ink was dry. When I refused to help him steal your script, he started charging me for his silence."

Theo's jaw tightened. "How much have you paid him?"

Elise's silence was answer enough.

"Elise."

"The original amount is pure fiction," she said, folding the letter. "He's been inflating it—late fees, interest, 'administrative costs.' But the balance now is… significant."

"Significant enough that you couldn't pay it before telling me?"

"I was going to handle it myself." She met his gaze. "I didn't want you to think I was using you for money on top of everything else."

Theo scrubbed a hand over his face. Jules cleared his throat from the doorway. "We really need to go."

They followed him through the service corridor, past stacked crates and coiled cables, until they emerged into the cool night air of the loading dock. A black sedan idled at the curb. Theo guided Elise into the back seat and slid in after her.

"Your apartment or mine?" he asked.

"Mine. It's the one the press doesn't know."

They drove in silence while London thinned into suburbs, then into the dark ribbon of motorway. Elise stared out the window, the envelope pressed against her chest like a shield.

"Talk to me," Theo said.

"I'm trying to figure out what to sell."

"Sell?"

"The painting my grandmother left me. It's worth enough to cover the balance." She shook her head. "I was hoping to keep it as leverage for a security deposit on a new flat, but—"

"You're not selling your grandmother's painting."

"I don't have a choice, Theo."

"You do." He reached for her hand. "I have money. A lot of it. This script—what Marcus stole—that was going to be my production company's first film. The funding alone is substantial."

"I can't take money from you."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes this real in a way I can't—" She stopped, biting her lip.

Theo turned in his seat to face her fully. "I told you tonight that I've chosen you beyond the contract. I meant it. That's not a line from a script. It's not a performance." He squeezed her hand. "Let me help you. Not as a business arrangement. As the man who is falling in love with you."

Elise's eyes glistened. "You're not going to let me refuse, are you?"

"I'm going to make it very difficult."

She laughed—wet, reluctant, but real. "Fine. I'll accept the loan. But I'm paying you back. Every cent. With interest."

"Deal."

They drove in silence for a moment, the envelope heavy between them. Then Elise spoke again, her voice hardening. "Where does Marcus keep his evidence?"

"I don't know. That's the problem."

"No," she said slowly. "I think I do."

---

Elise's apartment was a cocoon of warm light and lingering French perfume. Theo hovered in the kitchen while she disappeared into her bedroom, returning minutes later with a small black box.

"What's that?"

"Insurance." She set it on the table and opened the lid. Inside lay a slim USB drive and a folded piece of paper. "When Marcus first started threatening me, I hired someone to trace his operations. They found a storage unit in Docklands, under his production company's shell name. This is the access code."

"You've had this all along?"

"I had it before tonight. I was going to use it as leverage against him. But then he took your script, and everything became about getting you to listen long enough to explain."

Theo stared at the box. "The security footage from my flat. The key card evidence."

"Probably in the same place." Elise looked up at him. "I need to go there. Now, before the forty-eight hours run out. If I pay him, he might disappear the evidence. But if I destroy it first—" She trailed off.

"He loses his leverage. And we lose the proof that he stole my work."

"Unless we copy what we need first."

Theo considered this. "You're suggesting we break into his storage unit."

"I'm suggesting we retrieve what's legally ours and protect ourselves in the process. He broke into your home, Theo. He took your script. Whatever happens in that unit is self-defense."

"Defense that could land us in a French prison for breaking and entering."

Elise smiled—the first genuine smile he'd seen since her confession. "Then it's a good thing I speak fluent lawyer."

Theo shook his head slowly. "I can't believe I'm saying this."

"Saying what?"

"That I'm falling for a woman who plans burglaries in her grandmother's jewelry box."

She laughed, and for a moment the weight of the night lifted. Then her phone—newly charged from the kitchen outlet—buzzed against the counter. She glanced at it, and her face hardened again.

"Vivienne. Seventeen missed calls. And a text."

"What does it say?"

Elise read it aloud. "'Marcus just filed a legal injunction against you and Theo for harassment and defamation. He's claiming the key card evidence was fabricated to frame him. The tabloids are calling tonight's confession a publicity stunt. Camille's already booked three morning shows.'"

Theo was silent for a long moment. Then he pulled out his own phone—also charging—and dialed a number from memory.

"Who are you calling?"

"My lawyer. If Marcus wants to play games, we're going to need a bigger field."

The line connected. "Stephen? It's Theo. I need you to draft a countersuit before sunrise." He paused, listening. "No, I'm serious. Theft of intellectual property. Breaking and entering. Blackmail. And I want a writ of access to a storage unit in Docklands before the banks open."

Elise watched him, her expression unreadable.

Theo covered the phone. "You still planning on visiting Marcus's little vault tonight?"

"Nothing will stop me now."

"Then I'm coming with you." He returned to the call. "Make it happen, Stephen. Send the writ to my secure address within the hour."

When he hung up, Elise was smiling—small, exhausted, but real. "You know this makes us official, right? Partners in crime."

"Partners in everything else first." He closed the distance between them, his hands finding hers. "I meant what I told the world tonight, Elise. I'm not letting you go. Not to Marcus, not to your pride, not to anyone."

She stepped into him, resting her forehead against his chest. "Then let's go get your script back."

"Let's go get our lives back."