is find the perfect woman for the most ridiculous role of my life.
Someone who understands it’s just a temporary arrangement.
A transaction.
No emotions. No complications.
Someone who has as much to gain as I do.
Someone who probably doesn’t exist.
CHAPTER 2
JANE
340 days later
I stare at my phone like it might explode.
In a way, it already has.
Eighty-seven missed calls. One hundred thirty-three messages. And a notification from X informing me I’m trending at number one.
For all the wrong reasons.
“Jane, sweetheart, pick up! This is a disaster, but we can fix it!” Max’s voice practically shouts through my voicemail.
I grimace and take a long sip of red wine. I hate red wine—but someone gifted me this absurdly expensive bottle when I signed my first contract, and honestly? It feels like the perfect way to toast the death of my career.
Through the window of my tiny Los Angeles apartment, I can see the Hollywood sign glowing in the distance.
Mocking me.
“Disaster is putting it mildly, Max,” I mutter, pouring myself another glass.
I set my phone down and turn on the TV.
BuzzTV blasts my face across the screen—eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with anger—paired with a charming headline:
“Jane Carter: The Diva Who Lost It.”
Of course.
Morbid curiosity wins. I turn up the volume.
“The viral video shows actress Jane Carter, best known for her supporting roles inMillion Dollar LoveandTropical Love, lashing out at director Michael Peterson on the set of his latest film. Sources close to the production confirm Carter has been removed from the project following the incident…”
I roll my eyes so hard it physically hurts.
Best known for supporting roles.
Wow. Twist the knife, why don’t you?
“He cut all my lines in the final edit!” I shout at the TV. “That’s not being a diva—that’s professional self-defense!”
But no one’s listening.
The clip plays again.
