Rising From Ashes: The Broken Wife's Return

After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla. Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity. He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby. Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film. But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone. When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording. "We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever." It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic. Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally. My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash. Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash. To survive a monster, you have to become one. I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Two weeks later.

Karen stepped out of the Uber outside the Culver City film studio. She wore dark sunglasses to hide the lingering pale exhaustion on her face.

She had survived the pneumonia. She had survived the hospital. She had a movie to shoot.

Eleanor was waiting by the security gate. When she saw Karen, she didn't smile. She looked sick.

Eleanor gripped a rolled-up call sheet in her fist. She couldn't meet Karen's eyes.

"What's wrong?" Karen asked, her chest tightening.

Eleanor swallowed hard. "The studio got a massive cash injection three days ago. The new lead investor bought out the production."

Karen snatched the call sheet from Eleanor's hand.

At the very top, under the heading Lead Actress, the name was printed in bold black ink.

Ayla Conley.

The ground tilted beneath Karen's feet. Israel. He had bought the entire movie just to torture her.

They walked onto the busy outdoor set.

Ayla was standing under the bright production lights, wearing the vintage silk dress that was tailored for Karen.

Ayla saw her. She lifted the hem of the dress and walked over, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

"Oh, Karen," Ayla whispered, leaning in close. "Israel really does buy me whatever I want."

Karen's face remained stone cold. She didn't blink. She walked right past Ayla and headed straight for the director's trailer.

Julian Carmichael was sitting at a folding table, pulling his hair out over the storyboards. He looked up and flinched when he saw Karen.

"Karen, I am so sorry," Julian pleaded. "I have no power here. The capital controls the casting."

"I understand," Karen said flatly. "I quit."

She turned to leave.

"Wait!" Julian grabbed a different script from the table. "I fought for you. I kept the supporting role. The villain. The best friend who betrays her."

Julian shoved the script toward her. "It has incredible tension. You could steal the movie with this."

Karen looked at the script. If she stayed, she would have to look at Ayla's face every single day. She would trigger the 'unpaid service' clause.

She pushed the script back into Julian's chest.

"No," Karen said firmly. "I will not be her stepping stone."

"They will sue you for breach of contract!" Julian warned.

Karen let out a dry, bitter laugh. "I have nothing left for them to take."

She pushed open the trailer door and stepped back out into the California sun. She was done. She was walking away from Hollywood.

Suddenly, a deafening mechanical roar ripped through the sky.

The wind whipped up violently, knocking over light stands and tearing the canvas off the catering tents. Dust blinded the crew.

Everyone looked up in terror.

A massive black private helicopter, bearing the silver Fernandez Group logo, was descending right into the middle of the outdoor set.

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