"Get in." Damien Blackwood pushed the heavy passenger door open from the inside.
I slid into the leather seat of the idling SUV. The tinted windows instantly blocked out the harsh city glare.
Damien didn't pull away from the curb. His eyes dropped to my torn jeans. He stared at the blood drying on my scraped knees. His jaw tightened until the bone showed sharp against his skin.
"Does Ryan have any idea you are the actual heir to Ashford Entertainment?" Damien asked, his voice dangerously low.
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. A dry chuckle escaped my lips.
"When I married him, my mother gave me one strict rule," I said, leaning my head against the headrest. "She told me to never tell him what the Ashford name truly means. I thought she was just being paranoid."
I stared at the dashboard. "Turns out, it was the wisest advice she ever gave me."
"Divorce him," Damien stated. He shifted his gaze to my face. "I will put you back exactly where you belong. We can send everyone who hurt you straight to hell."
I turned toward the window. The busy street outside felt like a different universe.
"Divorce?" I asked quietly.
"It's the fastest way out."
"And let Ryan keep squandering the fortune I built?" I met Damien's intense stare. "Let him keep using my network, my skills, and my youth to fund his new life? Absolutely not."
Damien gripped the steering wheel.
"I don't want a divorce," I said, my voice turning to ice. "I will only be a widow."
Damien went perfectly still. The silence stretched between us for three long seconds. Then, a deep laugh rumbled in his chest.
"Step one, then," Damien said, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "You need to show him you aren't desperate for his scraps. Do you know Lucas Bennett?"
"No."
He grabbed a thick manila folder from the center console and dropped it onto my lap. "He is a newcomer in the film industry. He fits Ryan's old archetype perfectly. Just younger, cleaner, and much prettier."
I flipped the cover open. A bright, handsome face stared back at me.
"You kept guys like Lucas buried to make sure Ryan stayed on top," Damien added, pulling the SUV into traffic. "You rigged the game so rookies never had a chance to breathe. Now, his chance has arrived."
I traced the edge of the glossy photograph. The kid had a rare spark in his eyes. He had the exact charm Ryan used to fake.
A genuine smile touched my mouth.
"I can make him every girl's ultimate fantasy by the end of the quarter," I said.
"I believe it," Damien replied.
I closed the folder and rested my hands over it. "I am going to take back everything I lost."
Damien glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "If you need anything, tell me. I am entirely at your service."
An hour later, Damien dropped me off at the edge of the estate.
I walked through the grand front doors of the mansion. The air conditioning chilled the sweat on my neck.
Ryan sat on the velvet sofa in the living room. His arm rested casually around Vanessa's shoulders. Noah sat on the Persian rug near their feet, crashing two plastic toy trucks together.
"Forgot to mention," Ryan said, not bothering to stand up. "Vanessa and I took the master suite."
I stopped at the edge of the rug.
"The PR team wants our relationship to feel authentic," Ryan continued, waving a hand dismissively. "You understand how the industry works. There aren't any spare rooms left, so you'll stay in the nanny's quarters temporarily."
Noah dropped his trucks. He scrambled up and threw his arms around Vanessa's waist.
"Mommy!" Noah yelled.
He pointed a tiny finger at me. "The bad nanny yelled at me today. She pretended to be my real mom. It's so stupid."
Vanessa stroked his dark hair. She offered me a sympathetic pout that didn't reach her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Charlotte," Vanessa said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. "But you have to put his needs first. A mother with a criminal record is a terrible influence on a growing boy. Surely you can understand that."
I kept my face blank. I refused to let them see me bleed.
"We have a fashion gala tomorrow night," Ryan announced, checking his diamond watch. "The food at those events is always garbage. Have dinner ready on the table before we get back."
I crossed my arms. "I didn't cook three years ago."
Ryan frowned.
"If I'm supposed to make dinner," I asked coldly, "what exactly does the nanny's exorbitant salary cover?"
Ryan's expression darkened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don't get to negotiate with me. Without me, you are nothing. Draft my new career strategy tonight. That old plan of yours is useless now."
Vanessa giggled, resting her head against Ryan's shoulder.
"I could manage your schedule, Ryan," she offered lightly. "We run in the exact same circles now. I know exactly what you need. But Charlotte should try to be useful. I'd hate for her to just eat our food for free."
Ryan kissed her temple. He smirked at me. "See? Your entire purpose has been replaced."
I stared straight at Vanessa. "Do you honestly think an agent's only job is knowing how to fuck?"
"Enough!" Ryan slammed his hand against the glass coffee table.
The loud crack made Noah jump.
"She will do a better job than you ever did," Ryan snapped, standing up. "You've been rotting in a cell for three years. You are completely out of touch with the world."
I held my ground.
"Tomorrow morning, my lawyer will send over your company termination papers and a share transfer agreement," Ryan commanded. "Sign them immediately. If you refuse, I'll leak your exact location to my fan clubs. You know how violent they get. I'd hate for you to get hurt."
Noah clapped his hands together. "Daddy is right! The bad nanny needs to listen!"
Ryan grabbed Vanessa's hand and pulled her toward the door.
"We're staying at a hotel tonight," Ryan muttered. "I can't stand the energy in this house right now."
They walked out the front door, taking my son with them.
The heavy oak door clicked shut. Silence swallowed the hallway. I stood alone in the center of the living room I had furnished piece by piece.
Midnight crept in slowly.
I sat at the small wooden desk in the cramped nanny's room. The single bulb overhead flickered.
I opened my laptop. An email from Damien pinged in my inbox. It contained Lucas Bennett's complete portfolio, his contract details, and his upcoming audition schedule.
I clicked the attachment. The bright screen illuminated the dark walls of the tiny room.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I stared at the flashing cursor. Then, I began typing out the first phase of Lucas's launch strategy.
Ryan Carter thought he had won. He thought he had buried me.
But as I hit save on the first document, I knew the truth. His countdown had officially begun.
