Chapter 3

"Who's out there?" Vance's voice barked from inside the suite.

Carra heard the frantic rustling of clothes. Panic seized her throat. She tried to step back, wanting to run, wanting to hide.

Jory's hand flattened against the middle of her back. He didn't let her retreat. Instead, he reached out and shoved the heavy double doors wide open.

The doors slammed against the walls.

Carra was thrust into the bright light of the suite.

Vance was standing by the sofa, frantically buttoning his silk shirt. Eloisa was huddled in the corner, clutching a throw blanket to her chest, her eyes wide with terror.

Vance's panic vanished the second he recognized Carra. His face twisted into an ugly mask of rage.

"Are you insane?" Vance yelled, marching toward her. "Are you tracking me now? You psycho!"

Carra didn't flinch. She raised her phone, the screen still displaying the video she had just taken. Her voice came out eerily calm, stripped of all emotion.

"I don't need to track you, Vance. You left a trail of garbage all over the city."

Vance glanced at the screen. He swallowed hard, but his ego refused to let him back down.

"You don't understand anything," Vance sneered, pointing a finger at her. "This is a PR rehearsal. We are doing a chemistry read for the new Gucci campaign. You're my publicist, you should know this!"

Carra felt a sick laugh bubble up in her throat.

"A chemistry read?" she repeated. "With your pants unzipped?"

"You're suffocating me!" Vance shouted, trying to flip the blame. "You control my schedule, my diet, my life! You're just a glorified assistant, Carra. Know your place!"

Carra's whole body shook. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Then, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from the doorway.

Jory Elliott walked out of the shadows and stepped into the room. The air pressure in the suite instantly plummeted.

Vance stopped yelling. His jaw dropped. He stared at the man who owned the very studio that paid his salary. The blood rushed out of Vance's face, leaving him looking like a corpse.

Eloisa let out a pathetic squeak. She dropped to her knees on the carpet.

"Jory..." Eloisa whimpered, her voice trembling.

Jory didn't even look at her. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and tossed it onto the glass coffee table.

It landed with a soft slap.

"Read it," Jory commanded.

Vance slowly picked up the paper. His eyes scanned the text. It was a medical document from a private clinic in Beverly Hills.

Eloisa Lindsey. Eight weeks pregnant.

Carra felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Three years. She and Vance had been together for three years, meticulously careful because he said a baby would ruin his career. And now, this.

"Mr. Elliott, please," Vance stammered, dropping the paper as if it burned him. He fell to his knees right there on the rug. "I didn't know she was your fiancée. I swear to God. It was a mistake."

"The EK Group does not tolerate scandals that humiliate its CEO," Jory said, his voice flat and deadly. "You are a dead man in this town, Sterling."

"No! Please!" Vance crawled forward. "I'll do anything. I'll pay you. I'll do whatever you want!"

Jory looked down at him with absolute disgust.

"I will not tolerate my name being dragged through the mud by a failed engagement. I dictate the narrative, not the tabloids," Jory said coldly. "We pivot."

Vance blinked, confused.

"You will announce to the press tomorrow that you and Eloisa are deeply in love and expecting a child," Jory dictated. "And I will take Carra. I need a wife to pacify my family and the board, and you need a miracle to survive this. We spin it as a mutual parting of ways. A tragic romance."

Vance didn't even hesitate for a second.

"Yes. Yes, of course," Vance nodded frantically. He turned to Carra, his eyes hard. "Carra, you hear that? You're out. You're too plain for me anyway. You were just a stepping stone. Get out of my way."

The last shred of Carra's heart turned to ash.

She walked up to Vance. She didn't yell. She didn't cry.

She raised her right arm, pulling it back as far as she could, and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength in her body.

The crack sounded like a gunshot.

Vance's head snapped to the side. A drop of blood instantly welled up at the corner of his mouth.

"I quit," Carra said, her voice dripping with venom. "And we are done."

She turned on her heel. She kept her spine perfectly straight and walked out of the suite without looking back.

Jory watched her go. He adjusted his cufflink, shot Vance a look that promised death, and followed her out.

Carra made it to the elevator. She punched the button. The doors slid open, and she stepped inside.

The second the metal doors closed, cutting them off from the world, her knees gave out.

She slid down the wall of the elevator, gasping for air as the adrenaline crashed.

Jory stood over her. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a dark blue silk handkerchief that smelled of cedarwood, and silently held it out to her.