#2 Special Delivery

Eilidh POV

I grinned, picturing the look on Cole's face when Hoff walked onto his set. "I'm sure ye will." Hoffman's smirk turned sharp. He scooped up the papers, slid them into a sleek leather portfolio, and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair.

"Where are ye goin'?" I asked, even though I already knew.

"To make a delivery," he said. "I think Cole deserves the personal touch." I sat back in the chair, crossing my legs and letting the grin stretch slow across my face. "Oh, I wish I could see it."

He buttoned his jacket, his eyes glinting. "Don't worry, lass. You will. I'll make sure the cameras are rolling."

With that said, Hoffman strode out the door, divorce papers in hand, ready to set my ex husband's perfect little world on fire.

Mr. Hoffman POV - Special Delivery

I've known Eilidh MacLeod since she was a little girl with scraped knees and a Scottish brogue so thick I could barely understand her. I watched her grow into a woman who could command any stage, any screen, any room she walked into. She was like my niece.

And now? Now some cocky Hollywood pretty boy had the audacity, the goddamn balls, to cheat on her. With a woman living in her apartment. On her dime.

I'd been angry before in my career. Hell, I'd torn apart billion dollar corporations in courtrooms. But this? This was personal. I tucked the thick divorce packet into my leather portfolio and slid on my jacket. My blood was boiling, but my stride was smooth. Rage was a weapon best wielded with precision.

The studio lot was buzzing when I arrived, crew members hustling between sets, interns with headsets trying not to get run over. I flashed my ancient stage pass at the security gate, it was still active, because Cole's people were sloppy, and walked straight in.

I found him on soundstage three, dressed in some ridiculous superhero costume, fake muscles and all. Cameras were rolling, lights blazing down on him as he delivered some line about justice and honor. The irony made my jaw clench.

I waited until the director called the cut, then strode in like I owned the place. Heads turned. Conversations died. Cole spotted me, and his perfect little Hollywood smile faltered.

"Hoffman?" he said, forcing a laugh. "What are you doing here?" I didn't answer. I wanted the whole damn room to hear this. I walked right up to him, opened my portfolio, and pulled out the neatly stacked divorce papers. "This," I said, my voice steady, "is the moment you realize you fucked with the wrong woman."

I held the stack of papers out to him. He didn't take them. "What..." he started, but I cut him off.

"You cheated on my girl. Put up your slutty Russian mistress in HER apartment. With HER money. You drained accounts, spent thousands on hookers and blow, all while SHE was building your career for you. Every single thing you have, every car, every piece of furniture, the goddamn roof over your head, came from HER. And thanks to that air tight prenup you so confidently signed, the only thing you get to keep is the suit on your back. And maybe not even that if I decide I like it."

A murmur rippled through the crew. Phones were already out. Anya appeared from behind a set wall, dressed in some skintight leather costume, her expression smug until she realized I was holding legal papers.

I handed the stack directly to Cole, forcing it into his hands. "Consider yourself served."

He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked. "You can't just..."

"I can," I said, stepping closer so only he could hear me, "and I did. You ever so much as breathe in her direction again, and I'll make sure your next role is begging for change on the sidewalk."

I stepped back, loud enough now for everyone to hear... "Congratulations, Mr. Harrington. You're officially free. And broke."

The set went silent for a beat, then exploded with whispers. Cameras flashed. Someone laughed, I think it was the director. I turned on my heel and walked out without looking back.

Eilidh MacLeod POV

I didn't need to stick around to watch Cole melt down. The beauty of the modern world is that everything ends up online within minutes. By the time I was back in an Uber, my phone was buzzing like a hornet's nest. I ignored it until I was home, then pulled it from my pocket.

Top Notification... "Hollywood Star Served Divorce Papers On Set - Caught On Camera"

I tapped it and watched while I unlocked the front door.

And there it was. Hoff, walking onto the soundstage like the Grim Reaper in a tailored suit. Cole's face falling when he saw him. The moment he shoved the papers into his hands. Every cutting word, crystal clear in surround sound. And then Hoff, walking out while his little co-star gaped at him like he'd just been caught jerking off in church.

The comments section was already a warzone.

"THIS is better than any movie he's ever been in."

"Protect Hoffman at all costs."

"Ellie Mac is my new religion."

"The slap + the papers? ICONIC."

My lips curled into a grin so sharp it could cut glass. Then my phone rang. Cat. I answered. "Hey, love." Her voice was pure chaos. "Oh. My. GOD. Did you see what Hoff just did?!"

"I'm watchin' it now," I said, settling back in my seat. She cackled. "Girl, that was art. I want it framed." I laughed, a low, dangerous sound. "This is just the openin' scene, Cat. I've got an entire production planned... and it's gonna be a box office hit."

And as I ended the call, I saved the video to my favorites. I had a feeling I was going to watch it.... a lot.