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Every single one of them had gone to Foster’s office. All except this one. Somehow this small demand for a three-hundred- and seventy-eight-dollar catering bill had slipped through.
“I don’t understand. How can this be? I’m a huge success, but I have no money.”
She was alone, and for the first time in a long time, she was truly afraid. There was no one to reach out to—no one she could trust.
“Okay. Okay. Let’s not panic. You are Chloe, your fans love you. And you owe it to them to dig yourself out of this mess. Come on, think.”
Confronting Foster was the obvious solution, and he would no doubt give her his usual condescending lecture, telling her to let him worry about the business side of things and for her to concentrate on making hits. But all of this, all this demand for money was headed toward her whether directly or through her company. When the buck stopped it was going to be at Chloe’s front door.
Foster had to have known about the debt collectors. And he had deliberately left her in the dark.
“When you are ready to talk boundaries, let me know.”
Jordan’s words from that night in Berlin spoke loudly in her mind. He might have shown himself to be an ass, but he’d been right about her letting people run roughshod over her. Foster. Marta. Even Gabriela. They had all taken her for granted.
Chloe’s life stood at a crossroads. She could continue down this same path, accepting the inevitability of her life, or she could take another road. Be on her own once more.
I can do this. I survived all those years with no one to help me.
Things were different from the way they’d been back then—she might currently have money issues, but she also had means and resources at her disposal.
“I have to get out of here.”
She quickly stuffed a few things into a travel bag, taking care to leave behind such personal items as her toiletries, the absence of which would signal her unexplained disappearance to anyone who came looking. The minute Marta or Gabriela suspected something was up, they would be on the hunt.
A check of her bank account showed a depressing balance. A trail of cash withdrawals revealed the truth that her assistants had used her money as their own private kitty. Chloe chided herself for having let others handle her accounts. For giving them free access to her life.
But today that all came to an end.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Avoiding her bodyguards, Chloe snuck out of her house and drove herself to a nearby stationery store. Using her own personal credit card, she purchased a journal and some gel pens. Putting things down on paper meant she wouldn’t leave an electronic trail. The sales assistant in the store was lovely and attentive.
“I adore your music. ‘Bitter Babe’ was such an amazing song. I’ve just played it over and over again all summer.”
“I’m not her …” The words died on Chloe’s lips as she handed over her credit card which bore her name. “Sorry, just an auto response. Would you like my autograph?”
She wasn’t going to offer to do a selfie. If the girl loaded it up to the social media platforms tonight and tagged her, Marta and Gabriela might see it. They would wonder why Chloe was out by herself purchasing stationery.
I need to update lots of passwords tonight.The sooner she closed off access to her life, the quicker she could make changes. Take her future into her own hands.
With her floral journal and gel pens in hand, Chloe got back into her car. She didn’t want to go home. And she feared that all the people she did know in Hollywood were somehow connected to her management team.
This is where a girl could really do with having a good friend. Like they do in the movies. Someone whose shoulder I could cry on, and who has a comfy couch and some white wine to share.
But her life had never quite been a rom-com.
She hopped online and changed the password of her credit card. It was rare for her to use it, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Her level of mistrust was now high.
The elderly night porter at the two star hotel in Koreatown didn’t bat an eyelid when Chloe handed him her credit card. And when she gave him a different (false) name for the registration, he merely shrugged his shoulders. His job specification didn’t include interrogating the guests. She’d paid for three nights and that was all that mattered.
He glanced over Chloe’s shoulder at her silver Mercedes EQS. “That’s a nice car you have out there, Miss. You might want to park it out of sight around back. This is a decent enough neighborhood, but you know … temptation.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Chloe’s room was all a two-star hotel was meant to be: a tiny bathroom, a lumpy bed, and a mini fridge that no one with any sense of hygiene would think to food put in. The dank scent brought memories of her old life flooding back. As panic rose within her chest, Chloe forced herself to suck in some deep breaths.
I am not going to lose my shit.
