—Goodbye, Mr. McKenzie, I reply coldly, stepping out of the car.
I don’t look back as he drives away. I climb the front steps as quickly as I can. I need a shower—to wash away this lingering unease—and maybe a drink to steady my nerves.
As I step into the hall, I hear voices coming from the sitting room. One of them is Callum’s—which surprises me, since he was supposed to be gone all day. The other voice, softer, more melodic, is Heather’s.
Drawn by curiosity—and a sinking sense of dread—I move quietly toward the slightly open door.
—…always felt this way about you, Cal, Heather is saying, her voice thick with emotion. Even after all this time.
—Heather, Callum replies, tension threading his tone, we’ve already discussed this. I’m married now.
—A marriage of convenience, she insists. Don’t deny it—I know it was arranged. Maybe things have changed for you, but think about it—what do you two really have in common? You come from completely different worlds. Whereas you and I…
I should make noise. Announce myself. But something holds me there—some morbid curiosity, like slowing down to watch a car crash.
—That’s enough, Callum says firmly. Jane is my wife, and I?—
I don’t hear the rest.
Because in that exact moment, Heather steps forward and kisses him, her arms wrapping around his neck.
The shock freezes me for a second. Then the sharp, searing pain that slices through me sends me stumbling backward. I knock into a small table that crashes loudly to the floor.
The noise alerts them. I hear Callum call my name, but I’m already running—out of the hallway, toward the front door, unable to face him.
The timing couldn’t be worse. After everything Alistair said—about our arranged marriage, about Callum’s inability to feel—seeing Heather in his arms feels like a knife to the chest.
Alistair… Heather… the pieces click into place with brutal clarity. They worked together. They got me out of the castle so Heather could get close to Callum.
I burst outside and head toward the gardens. I don’t have a plan. I just need air. Space. Distance.
Alistair’s words echo in my mind.A marriage of convenience… a man incapable of real emotion…Could he be right? Could everything I believed was real between Callum and me have been nothing but an illusion?
I finally stop beneath an old willow tree, breathless, my cheeks damp with tears I hadn’t even realized I was shedding. My phone vibrates in my pocket—Callum, most likely. I ignore it. I can’t talk to him right now.
But when it vibrates again and I glance down absentmindedly, it’s not Callum’s name on the screen.
It’s my agent.
—Hey, Max.
—Jane! My God, I thought you’d never pick up. How are you?
His voice—so familiar, that unmistakable Californian edge—feels like it belongs to another life.
—I… I’m fine, I lie. Why are you calling?
—I’ve got incredible news! he bursts out. Do you remember Martin Scorsese?
—The legendary director? Yeah, vaguely, I reply dryly—completely lost on him.
—He’s working on a new film—and guess what? Your name is on his list! Apparently, he saw that indie film you did two years ago—the one where you played that grieving waitress—and he was impressed. His assistant reached out to me.
The news, which would’ve had me jumping for joy a few months ago, feels almost unreal in my current state.
—Don’t get bogged down in details, he continues. The point is—this is it, Jane! Your big comeback opportunity! Casting starts in two weeks. You need to get back to Los Angeles. Now.
—Now? I repeat, stunned.
