I zipped my suitcase shut. The metal teeth locked together with a sharp snap.
Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the middle of the Los Angeles International Airport. The terminal buzzed with tourists and businessmen, a chaotic blur of rolling luggage and overlapping announcements. I found an empty plastic chair near my departure gate and sat down.
My phone vibrated against my palm.
The screen lit up. *Ryan.*
It was his twelfth call in the last ten minutes. I swiped my thumb across the glass and lifted the phone to my ear.
"Where the hell are you?" Ryan barked.
"Far away from you," I said.
"Stop playing games, Olivia. The press conference for the competition finals starts in exactly twenty minutes. The entire team is running in circles. Nobody knows the talking points."
"Call your assistant," I replied. "I quit."
"You can't quit!" he shouted. I heard the muffled chaos of the venue in the background—producers yelling, microphones feeding back. "I built your agency. You work for me."
"You funded the office space. I built the roster. I built you. And now I'm done."
"The sponsors are threatening to walk if we don't present the finalized pitch. The PR team is completely paralyzed without you. The media is going to eat me alive regarding the voting rumors. Get back to the arena right now."
"Tell them the truth," I suggested. "Tell them you bought the votes. Tell them you're a fraud."
"Shut up," he hissed. "You signed a non-disclosure agreement."
"An agreement that covers your business affairs. It doesn't cover my personal life. It doesn't cover my marriage."
"Olivia, I swear to God. The judges are arriving. The network executives are sitting in the front row. I need you to handle them."
"I handled your schedule for five years," I said, keeping my voice entirely flat. "I handled your scandals. I handled your fragile ego. I am done handling your messes."
"You're throwing a tantrum over a PR stunt!"
"I found you fucking your co-star on our mattress."
"We discussed this! The studio needs the heat. The fans expect us to be together."
"You talked. I listened. Now I'm leaving."
"If you don't walk through those doors in five minutes, I will freeze every account you have access to," Ryan threatened. His tone turned vicious. "I will blacklist your agency in this town. You'll never represent another actor again."
"You already reminded me I walk away with nothing," I said. "So I have nothing left to lose."
A sudden rustling sound echoed through the speaker. The background noise of the arena vanished, replaced by the quiet, familiar hum of my own bedroom's air conditioning.
"She's so uptight, Ryan," a female voice teased. "Give me the phone."
My jaw tightened. "Put my husband back on the line."
"Hi, Olivia," Vanessa said. Her tone carried a thick layer of fake sweetness. "I just wanted to call and apologize for earlier. I feel absolutely terrible about how things went down."
"You don't sound terrible."
"Well, I'm still at your house," Vanessa continued, completely ignoring my response. "Sitting on your lovely silk sheets. I just wanted to clear the air. I'm stepping in to apologize for Ryan. He's under so much stress, you know?"
"There is no air to clear. You're a whore, and he's a cheat."
Vanessa let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Don't be bitter, sweetie. You just didn't know how to treat him. You treated him like a client. I treat him like a man."
"You treat him like an ATM."
"He doesn't seem to mind."
In the background, Ryan groaned. "My shoulders are wrecked. This competition is draining the life out of me. The network wants a live Q&A after the finals, and my head is splitting. They want me to memorize three pages of script by tonight."
"I know, baby," Vanessa cooed, directing her voice away from the receiver. "Poor thing. Lie back. I'll take care of you. I won't ever let you push yourself so hard. I won't nag you like she does. I'll make sure you're always relaxed."
"She just doesn't get it," Ryan muttered. "She doesn't understand the pressure of being in front of the camera."
"Shh," Vanessa whispered. "Forget about her. Look at me."
I gripped the plastic armrest of my chair.
The rustling grew louder. Fabric tore. Skin slapped against skin.
"Fuck, Vanessa," Ryan grunted. "Take your panties off."
"They're already off," Vanessa whispered. "Put your cock inside me."
"I'm going to rip your pussy apart. Spread your legs wider."
"Fuck yes, Ryan. Ram your dick deep into my cunt."
The wet, heavy sound of friction echoed through the phone. Bedsprings groaned—the exact bedsprings I had purchased three years ago.
"You like taking my cock on my wife's bed?" Ryan asked, his breathing turning ragged. "You like getting fucked where she sleeps?"
"I love it," Vanessa moaned. Her voice pitched higher. "Fuck my pussy harder. Bounce my tits. Shove your cock all the way in."
"I'm going to slam my dick against your cervix until you scream."
"Do it. Fuck me! Ruin my pussy, Ryan!"
"Look at you taking my whole cock," Ryan growled. "You're a dirty fucking slut."
"Yes! I'm your slut. Fuck me deeper. Stretch my cunt out."
"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."
"Fuck yes. Hit it right there. Hit my G-spot. Fuck!"
I stared at the scuff marks on the linoleum floor. The terminal around me faded away. I didn't blink. I didn't cry. I just listened to the man I married degrade our entire life together.
The slapping sounds quickened. Flesh hitting flesh in a rapid, brutal rhythm.
"Fuck," Ryan snarled. "I'm fucking going to blow my load deep inside your cunt. Wrap your legs around my waist."
"Fill me up, Ryan!" Vanessa screamed. "Fuck me! Give me your cum!"
"I'm cumming! Fuck!"
I pulled the phone away from my ear. I stared at the screen for exactly one second.
I tapped the red button.
The call ended. The silence hit me like a physical weight. I dropped the phone into my purse and snapped the clasp shut.
A woman sitting two seats away from me shifted uncomfortably. She offered a sympathetic grimace, clearly having overheard the muffled screams escaping my phone speaker.
I didn't react. I simply adjusted my coat.
Above me, the overhead intercom crackled to life.
"Attention all passengers. Flight 482 with nonstop service to New York is now beginning boarding at Gate 12. First class and priority members may now board."
I stood up. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase. The wheels rolled smoothly over the carpet as I joined the line.
New York was a long way from Los Angeles. It was a long way from Ryan, his competition, and his mistress.
But it was exactly where I needed to go.
Ryan thought he owned my career. He thought I was nothing without him. He was about to find out exactly who built his empire, and how quickly I could burn it to the ground.
