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Harrison looks at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “You can’t do this to me. You’ll leave with nothing. You’re a lazy washed-up actress, one-hit wonder. I’m the best you’ll ever get.”
I laugh bitterly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Harrison.” My voice is cold as ice. “I was someone long before I met you and I’ll be just fine without you. This is your loss, not mine.”
With that, I hop off the stool, grab my purse and keys and walk out the door. Hurriedly jump in my car and head to the Chateau Mormont, where I’ve booked a suite for a month to sort out the mess of my life.
It’s not the first time I’ve had to pick up the pieces and start over.
But, after this latest debacle, I’m determined it’s going to be the last.
I’ll never play second fiddle to a man again. Especially one who is rich, powerful, and controlling. Arrogant, entitled assholes aren’t capable of truly loving someone. From what I’ve experienced, they expect you to drop every one of your own dreams to support theirs and thank them for the opportunity.
Never. Again.
God. I’m so done with him. With anyone like him.
I’m making some big changes. I’m not sure what I’m going to do or how I’m going to do it, but I’m giving myself one year to figure it out.
Chapter one
Clover
Eight Months Later
I wake up to the annoying sound of my phone buzzing.
Groggily, I reach over to grab it from where it’s charging on the nightstand. It’s Madison, aka “Mazza” Green, my longtime agent. A woman who’d actually forgotten she represented me when I called a few days after I split up with my ex.
Shit. I hope it’s not more bad news. Not before Christmas. Auditions have been few and far between. I can’t even land a commercial to save my life these days.
For a brief moment, I contemplate ignoring the call. Except, while I’m comfortable financially for the time being, I’m certainly not going to turn down the possibility of work. I might as well find out what she wants. I tap the talk button and put her on speaker.
“Babe,” she coos. “I’ve got some good news. Unexpected news, actually.”
I sit up in bed, the sheets pool around my waist. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”
“Veronica Miller reached out. She wants to take you to lunch.” Mazza sounds baffled.
“Huh.” I’m also a bit confused. I knew Ronni Miller many years ago when I had a supporting role on Hawaiian High, the teenage drama she starred in before her breakout sitcom, She’s All That, took the world by storm.
“Word on the street is she’s casting a new show.” Luckily, Mazza always has the inside scoop. She just doesn’t usually use her knowledge to help get me parts.
Could there be a role for me? Clearly, Ronni’s going to star in whatever show she’s involved in. Maybe she wants me to play her sister. Or her BFF. Something inside me sparks. Is this what I’ve been waiting for? “That’s amazing! When? Can you send me the script?”
“Next week. I’ll send you the details. No script,” Mazza answers efficiently.
“Oh. Okay.” A cold read. I can handle that. “Thanks, M. Appreciate the call.”
As we hang up, I can’t help but smile. A wave of gratitude washes over me. I’m so glad I answered the phone. I didn’t anticipate getting back into the acting game would be so difficult. I’ve never been a superstar, but a couple chart-topping pop hits meant I never had a problem booking jobs.
Until I got married and gave it all up.
Unfortunately, the decade-long break has made me invisible to a new crop of casting agents who have no idea who I am. My one-year get-your-shit-together deadline is looming.
It’s time to get moving. I’ve been through the stages of grief. I’ve wallowed and mourned. Lamented and raged. I have a therapist. Girls’ nights with the friends who haven’t abandoned me. Spas. Wellness retreats. I’ve done it all.
It seems I’m finally in the acceptance phase. Even though it’s been rough, I’ve come to realize the goddesses were smiling down on me, timing-wise, when I learned the truth about my marriage.
The video of Harrison and Solange was my ace in the hole to retaining a large portion of my wealth. Our divorce was uncontested. Swift. My pre-nup was upheld. I kept all of the assets that were mine before we got married, which means our house is titled in my name. So is the Porsche. All of my belongings. Jewelry. Designer clothes. Oh, and five million dollars in cash.
