Isla's POV
Then Dominic scoffed, “Isla, just be honest. When you tore up that Harvard acceptance letter, wasn’t part of you betting I’d make a comeback and it'd be even bigger than before?”
Uncredulous, I stared at him.
Tightening his hold on Marina, he added, “Marina only met me after I succeeded, but she refuses every penny I offer. I didn’t force anything on her because her pride is no less real than whatever you were pretending back then.”
My voice shook as I asked, “You think I was pretending back then?”
Sighing, he replied, “If you can’t admit it yourself, fine. I'll give you face and won't burst the bubble for you. Just don’t make trouble about it again.”
“Dominic, I hope you get what you deserve!” I roared and then overturned the table in one furious motion.
Dominic’s first instinct was to shield Marina with his back as plates and papers flew.
Fuming, Marina yelled, “Isla, are you insane? Is Mr. Vale wrong? You only calm down if I’m exposed as a gold digger, right?”
She was about to lunge at me, but Dominic held her back.
Afterwards, he escorted everyone out, leaving only the wreckage and me collapsed on the floor, breathing hard, tears dropping one by one.
He had no idea that if I hadn’t stayed with him back then, if I’d chosen my own path, I’d have built something even bigger than his.
I picked my way through the mess, clutching my mother’s trophy.
If that was what he wanted, then be it. When my next project was confirmed, I’d split our assets and walk away.
Just as I finished cleaning, my assistant called in a panic. “Miss Isla, bad news. The role we just landed was reassigned to Marina!”
My phone nearly slipped from my hand upon hearing it. Quickly after the call, I stormed into Dominic’s office and slammed the contract files onto his desk.
“You gave my mother’s role to that—that bitch?” I hissed.
He took my outburst without flinching; even his cigar didn’t tremble. “Marina’s got potential. Don’t worry.”
I grabbed his collar and snarled, “My mother was a hero in research. She died with her data in order, and yet you want someone who can’t even memorize lines to play her? Marina doesn’t deserve that role!”
“How do you know she doesn’t deserve it if you don’t give her a chance?” he shot back.
“She’s my mother! Nobody knows her like I do!” My eyes burned red. “If you let her play my mother, I will ruin her career. I can give up being an actress just so I can do whatever it takes.”
Shock flickered in his gaze.
He was Dominic, the man everyone admired, but if I were determined to burn bridges, I could.
He stubbed the cigar into the ashtray and sighed. “Are you really going to do that?”
“Of course.” I ground my teeth until they ached.
He nodded, then picked up the phone. “Cancel the plan to parachute Marina into that role. Yes, Isla gets the part. Let her daughter play her.”
My muscles finally eased. I forced a sarcastic, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mr. Vale.”
Ignoring the way he looked at me, I walked out.
I was supposed to do the promotional stills the next day, but my private photos were leaked everywhere online instead.
I fell off the bed when I saw them. Hands shaking, I dialed Dominic.
When the phone was picked up, it wasn’t Dominic, but Marina.
“I was the one who told Mr. Vale to leak them,” she said, her tone sharp and mocking. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you say you’d ruin me if it meant keeping that role? Well, now it’s your reputation that’s in ruins. How does it feel? Honestly, Isla, you’re pathetic.”
My teeth nearly cracked from how hard I was clenching them. “Marina!”
But then the phone was taken from her. A man’s voice came through the receiver instead. It was Dominic’s.
“You can still play your mother’s role,” he said coldly. “That is… if you don’t mind that whenever the audience sees her on screen, the first thing they’ll remember is you, sprawled out on a bed.”
The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. My knees buckled, and I crumpled down with it.
The trending page lit up my screen. My name was everywhere, twisted and mocked.
I broke down and cried until my chest ached.
Then my phone buzzed again. This time, it was an old, trembling voice on the other end. “Isla? I heard… your mother’s biopic is finally starting production? When’s the premiere? We want to fly back and watch your first performance.”
My hand shook so hard I almost dropped the phone again. But I managed to say, “They… they put my private photos online. I can’t act in it anymore.”
“What?!” That steady, familiar voice turned into a roar of anger.
When I forwarded him the entertainment headlines, he practically spat through the line. “Huh! Does he think all of your mother’s comrades are dead? That we’ll just sit by and let some kept woman trample on her daughter’s name? Isla, don’t be afraid. Every one of your mother’s old colleagues will return. We’ll stand behind you.”
