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The Secret Wife Of Hollywood's Monk
img img The Secret Wife Of Hollywood's Monk img Chapter 4 4
4 Chapters
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 4 4

The studio in Santa Monica was freezing, kept at a precise sixty-five degrees to keep the makeup from melting under the lights.

Kennedy Gilmore sat on a high stool, her blonde curls cascading perfectly over one shoulder. She smiled for the camera, that famous, crinkling-eye smile that had sold millions of movie tickets.

"Beautiful, Kennedy! Just like that! Innocent but knowing!" the photographer shouted.

The flash popped. Kennedy held the smile for exactly one more second, then dropped it like a heavy coat.

"Water," she snapped.

An assistant materialized with a bottle of Voss. Kennedy took a sip, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on her agent, Mark.

"Did you see?" she asked, her voice low.

Mark smirked, holding up his phone. "Trending for twelve hours straight. IvySnowMolester."

Kennedy let out a short, sharp laugh. "God, she's pathetic. I always knew she was trash, but actually grabbing Holt Nicholson? That's suicide."

"It's good for us," Mark said, tapping the screen. "Darius Clark was considering her for the role of Elena. He liked her tape. Said she had 'raw vulnerability.'"

Kennedy's grip on the water bottle tightened. "Vulnerability? She has the range of a toaster."

"Well, she's radioactive now," Mark said. "Darius won't touch her. The role is yours."

Kennedy relaxed, a smug satisfaction settling in her chest. She had hated Ivy Snow since they were both extras on a sitcom three years ago. Ivy had improvised a line that made the director laugh. Kennedy had been cut from the scene.

She never forgot.

"Let's make sure she stays dead," Kennedy said. "Give me my phone."

Mark handed it over. Kennedy opened Twitter. She composed a tweet, her fingers flying.

Heartbroken to see the lack of respect in our industry. Personal space is sacred. Sending love and strength to H. He deserves better. RespectBoundaries

She hit send.

"Perfect," Mark said. "Classy. Supportive. And it reminds everyone that she's the villain and you're the angel."

Kennedy smiled, handing the phone back. "I want that role, Mark. I want to see Ivy Snow back in a drive-thru window where she belongs."

Meanwhile, in West Hollywood, Alex was shouting into his phone.

"Yes! I'm telling you, it's a family thing! They're cousins! It's an inside joke!"

Ivy sat on the couch, chewing her thumbnail until it bled. Alex was talking to the casting director for Blue Note.

"You can check with his team!" Alex bluffed. "They won't deny it! It's just... private. You know how Holt is."

He listened for a moment, then pumped his fist in the air. "Fantastic! Tuesday at 2 PM. She'll be there. And she'll blow Darius away."

He hung up, beaming. "You got the audition."

Ivy felt a wave of nausea. "Alex, you just told them to check with his team."

"They won't," Alex dismissed. "They're too scared of Erich. And even if they do, by the time they get a response, you'll have already nailed the audition."

Ivy's phone dinged. A notification.

@KennedyGilmore: Heartbroken to see the lack of respect...

Ivy read the tweet. The comments were already pouring in.

Kennedy is such a queen.

Ivy Snow is trash.

Compare the class difference.

Rage, hot and sudden, flared in Ivy's chest. She was using Ivy's humiliation to polish her halo.

"She's trying to bury me," Ivy said, her voice hard.

"She's winning," Alex said, looking at the tweet. "Unless..." He looked at Ivy. "Unless the cousin thing comes out. Then she looks like she's attacking a family member."

Ivy looked at her phone. The "Landlord" contact was still open. The cursor blinked.

She had to do it. She had to beg.

Ivy typed.

Holt. It's Ivy. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from.

Delete. Too dramatic.

Mr. Nicholson. Regarding the incident...

Delete. Too formal. They were married, for God's sake.

She closed her eyes and typed the truth, or as close to it as she could get.

My agent is telling people we are cousins to stop the hate mob. I know I have no right to ask, but please... can you just not deny it? For a few days? I have an audition.

Ivy stared at the message. It was pathetic. It was desperate.

She hit send.

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