A Love Buried in Ashes

By the time we reached the fiftieth take, the right side of my face was badly swollen. Blood trickled from my nose and mouth, staining my collar.

The director clutched his , his voice trembling. "Ms. Monroe, if we keep going, something terrible could happen."

"We haven't even finished filming. What could possibly happen?" Zara Monroe rose from behind the monitors and slowly walked toward me.

She crouched down and wiped the blood from the corner of my lips with her fingertip. Her touch was as gentle as it used to be when she removed my makeup for me.

"Bridger, I know what you're upset about. You can be angry with me about losing the lead role, but you can't take it out on a newcomer. Apologize to him, and you won't have to film the remaining scenes."

I struggled to lift my head.

"It was a cheat shot. There are three camera angles. Pull up the full footage, and you'll see."

Kyson Bentley's eyes immediately reddened. "If Bridger says he didn't touch me, then he didn't. I'm just a newcomer. Taking a little mistreatment isn't a big deal. Zara, please don't damage your relationship over me."

He looked at me with wounded eyes. "Bridger just hasn't come to terms with losing the role. He didn't mean to target me."

Watching the tears on his face, I suddenly found the whole thing ridiculous.

During the actual take, he hadn't been able to squeeze out a single tear. Now that the cameras weren't rolling, he was putting on a performance worthy of an award.

Zara's expression darkened. "Kyson is still speaking up for you, and you can't even offer him a single apology?"

She stood up and looked down at me. "I made my first leading man an award-winning actor. I can make a second one, too.

"Since you claim to be so dedicated to your craft, finish the remaining fifty takes. Show the production team what professionalism looks like."

My breath caught for a moment.

In the past, if I'd even scraped my skin while working with a stunt harness, Zara would have ordered the shoot stopped immediately. She warned directors that if they ever injured me again, she would pull her investment from the entire production.

Now, on the strength of a single accusation from Kyson, she was making me endure a hundred punches.

The next punch landed, and the taste of blood flooded my mouth.

I turned my face toward Zara. She stood beside Kyson, her expression perfectly calm, as though what was happening before her were nothing more than a performance that had nothing to do with her.

By the eightieth take, I could barely make out the people around me.

Zara walked behind the monitors, a trace of amusement in her voice. "You can still admit you were wrong."

I swallowed the blood in my mouth and said nothing.

She watched me for several seconds. "Keep going."

At the hundredth take, Zara personally called cut. She walked past the crew and stopped in front of me.

Those hands had once held mine as we walked down red carpets. They had wiped away my tears and traced the lines of my face over and over in the middle of the night.

Now one of them rose high above me.

"This last punch is meant to teach you something. Just because I spoil you doesn't mean you get to make decisions for me."

Her fist struck my face with tremendous force.

A piercing ringing filled my right ear. Then every sound seemed to disappear behind a wall.

As my consciousness began to fade, someone grabbed my hair and forced me to face the camera.

Zara instructed casually, "Post this footage. Consider it my debut gift to Kyson."

Someone beside her hesitated. "What should we do about Bridger afterward?"

Zara shot him a cold look. "Today was just a lesson to teach him some manners. He only dares to act this way because he knows how much I spoil him. Once he's suffered enough, he'll come back and apologize."

She paused. "Bridger Callahan will remain the only head of the Monroe household. Get the best medication available. I won't have his face scarred."

Hearing this, the corners of my mouth twitched, and then I lost consciousness entirely.