Two men in black suits blocked the hallway.

"Move."

A second later, Angelo's voice behind me.

"Isa. Calm down. Please."

I spun around. His eyes were full of something that looked like love.

"I told you. I stopped caring about Vivian a long time ago. I only care about you."

My phone chimed.

A video from Vivian.

I tapped it.

She and Angelo were lying on a bed. She was curled into his chest, white gauze around her wrist, blood seeping through.

He was holding her tight, stroking her back, slow.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Don't do anything stupid."

Ten seconds.

When it ended, my eyes felt scraped dry.

Angelo's voice: "Isa, let me explain —"

"Don't bother." I waved the phone at him. "I saw enough. You don't owe me an explanation."

His face changed. He grabbed my wrist.

"She was threatening to slit her wrists last night. What was I supposed to do? Let her die?"

His jaw tightened. "Can you calm down? Can you be a goddamn adult about this?"

I met his eyes and pried at his fingers.

"Let go. I'm quitting. Right now."

"And both of you. Stay the hell out of my life."

He didn't let go. The grip on my wrist ached.

"Isa... I need you. You can't leave."

"Sure, Vivian was hard on you. But she tipped you well, didn't she? And she stopped going after you eventually."

"For three years, I gave you everything. Without me, you can't make it out there."

I almost laughed.

So everything I'd put up with had a price tag.

Those tips. Those hush-money tips. Was that Vivian buying off her own guilt?

The two of them already had everything. And they chose to sit at the top of the hill and watch me crawl up.

My chest hurt again. Sharp.

This time for me.

I didn't want to argue anymore. Couldn't.

I looked him in the eye. Quiet. "Let go. Or I'm calling the cops."

He looked down at me. "What about your mother? You leaving her too?"

I went still. After a moment: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

His voice went cold. "Your mother's a lot worse than you know. Your paycheck doesn't cover her meds anymore."

"For the past three years, I've covered the difference. Clear enough now?"

I couldn't move.

He reached up, tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and snapped the fingers of his other hand.

The black Rolls-Royce slid up without a sound.

He got in and patted the seat beside him. "Don't be silly, baby. Time I showed you your real home."

My mother's medical bills.

I swallowed every shred of pride and got in the car.

The car turned into a private estate.

Angelo led me to a bedroom door.

He opened it, smiling. "After the wedding, this is where you'll live with me. You like the way it's done?"

A voice cut in, sharp.

"You? Living here? Don't make me laugh."

I turned. Vivian was standing behind me.

Red silk slip, the kind that left half her chest bare.

Angelo's brow knitted. He stepped forward. "How'd you get in?"

She dangled a key. "You gave me the code. Forgotten already?"

He didn't answer.

She looked me up and down and laughed. "Look at yourself. You're a walking cartoon."

"Hope the reporters don't write that you couldn't even compete with a cartoon," I said.

"You bitch."

She swung at my face.

I flinched.

The slap never landed.

Angelo caught her wrist.

He dragged her out of the room. Their voices leaked back through the wall.

"Angelo, wake up. You think she doesn't know who you are?"

"You only went for her to piss me off. You're really gonna take this all the way and marry her? It's me you love."

"Enough. It's Isa I love."

"Are you stupid? She's a gold-digging slut."

I listened. Felt myself falling, with nothing under my feet.

Then a gunshot.

From the hallway. One round.

Smoke and gunpowder drifted through the hallway.

Angelo was holding a black Browning, the barrel aimed at Vivian.

"I said shut up." His voice was flat. "Don't test me. Next time I won't miss on purpose."

Vivian bit her lip, scrambled to her feet, and stumbled down the stairs.

"Sorry. Did that scare you?"

Angelo pulled me into his arms and stroked my back.

"It's handled, Isa. Done."

He whispered against my ear. "You stay here, where it's safe. Your mother will be in the best private hospital. For as long as she needs."

The wave of helplessness drowned me.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The word came out anyway. "Thank you."

"Sweetheart, don't thank me."

He tapped my nose and pulled out his phone.

"Sonny's got the planners lined up. Here's the concept they sent over, take a look."

"You should eat light for a few days. You want to fit in the dress."

"And the honeymoon, Europe or Asia? Whatever you want..."

Angelo wouldn't shut up. Planning, planning, planning.

The sound of his voice turned into static.

There was no way Vivian would let it go.

That night, she held a press conference. Front-page headlines by morning.

Eyes red, voice trembling, she laid into me.

"I always treated her like a sister. I never imagined she'd bite the hand that fed her."

"On set, she was using my name to line her own pockets."

"Now my fiancé is pulling his investment from my movie. Who knows when it'll come out."

Her fans were furious. Within thirty minutes of the press conference, my socials were dug up, drowning in hate mail.

I looked at Angelo, cold.

He looked annoyed. But when he looked at Vivian, there was no real anger.

"She's just fighting for me."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to her."

He went downstairs, was on the phone with her for over ten minutes, came back and looked at me. "Vivian says if you apologize publicly, she'll back off. Leave us alone."

"Isa, this is a clean way out. Solves both of your problems."

"For my sake. Apologize. Okay?"

I turned my phone off.

Looked at him, cold.

The only "problem between us" was that she wanted to grind me into the floor.

And I was supposed to apologize.

Right. I'd made him fall in love with me. I'd ruined what they had.

What a joke.

"Angelo. Do you actually love me?"

He looked at me, eyes more serious than I'd ever seen them. "Of course. I love you, Isabella."

"Then I've got a better idea than an apology."