3. Rage Cage Leo

Leonardo's POV.

"We're screwed! Completely screwed!" My manager wails for the third time that morning, collapsing dramatically onto my couch. "How could you do something so stupid, Leo?"

"Roman Sinclair deserved it! I had to put him in his place. He even had the audacity to mention my girlfriend, Lena."

"But this isn't just about Lena, is it? You two fought about something else," she says, watching me with a scrutinizing anger.

Mickie Russo frowns when I refuse to tell her the truth. She is a quirky, loud, over-the-top manager. The type of person you want on your side in this cut-throat Hollywood world.

"Nothing happened. I just hate the bastard," I say, but it's a lie and Mickie knows.

She shakes her head, unbelieving. "Hatred is a trait I've never seen on you. You always love people, even when you shouldn't."

I clear my throat awkwardly. "Roman Sinclair is the exception. He not only threatened Lena, he was also being an asshole to a kind waiter I met.

"A waiter? Was it a girl?"

I nod.

"A really pretty girl??" she presses.

"Does that even matter?" I reply with an annoyed huff.

"Of course it does. Because I can't — for the life of me — understand why you would throw your entire career away for a simple waiter?" Mickie exclaims.

My mind drifts back to last night. The pretty girl held me in her arms, cradling my head. She felt so warm and soothing that I wish I could relieve that moment. But my face was slightly touching her breasts and I was hit with guilt. An unsettling feeling that I was cheating on my girlfriend, Lena, even though I wasn't.

"Mickie, don't be so snobbish. The waitress was hurt, and Roman had no right to insult her like that."

"But the public doesn't know that!" the angry manager points out. "Social media doesn't know that. You've gone viral on the worst way!"

She shows me the video of me hitting Roman's face. POW! This one has a funny sound effect. I almost smile, then I hide it.

Mickie's eyes widen as she throws her hands up, exasperated. "Do you find this disaster funny? Is your downfall a sitcom to you?"

"Come on, Mickie. You're being dramatic." I wave her off.

She shoves the laptop in my face violently. "Look at that! Just look! You're a meme now! A GIF, a TikTok sensation. Everyone is calling you the Box office boxer, Hollywood hothead, Rage Cage Leo, Drama Queen of the ring!"

I can't help, but snicker. "Those names are kind of creative."

"It's not just names, Leo! It's not names!" she laments. "This is serious. Nobody recorded where Roman insulted the waiter and threatened you. He's still the Hollywood sweetheart they know and love. The video only shows you punching him. Now, you're the fucking monster!"

My heart starts beating faster as the gravity of this situation settles in. Anxiety is a dangerous feeling and I need to stop it.

Don't be scared, Leo. No, don't be anxious.

"What if I release a press statement telling everyone what actually happened? That Roman was mistreating a nice waiter and I simply came to her defence," I say.

Mickie groans, kneading her forehead. "I already spoke to your publicist. That plan will backfire and make things worse. Roman Sinclair already posted an "heartfelt" video explaining that he was sitting quietly when you showed up. He said, 'hey, man. Congrats on the Oscar' and you punched him."

"What?!" My heart jumps to my throat. "That bastard is lying through his teeth!"

"I know that... because I know you," Mickie says with a sigh. "But the rest of the world doesn't. They believe the villian is the hero.

My face pales as I whisper pleadingly. "What can I do now, Mickie? Please."

"First of all. Don't punch anyone again. Even if it's the worst person on earth, like Voldemort. Second. Your publicity team is working out a game plan."

I run a hand through my messy hair, tired. I have not gotten a wink of sleep in days.

"Leo, I'll try my best for you. Like I always do. But this is a different type of chaos. The Academy is considering banning you from attending the Oscars for at least five years."

"What?!" My legs immediately gets weak and I have to sit on the floor. It feels like my whole life is crumbling into pieces and there's nothing I can do.

"I'm writing a petition to make sure that doesn't happen. And I'll explain what really happened to them," says Mickie.

I know they might not believe the truth.

Heaving a deep sigh, I glance at my Oscar Statuette on the shelf. Golden. Firm. Powerful.

"Will they make me return my Oscar?" I ask, terrified at the thought.

"No. Hopefully, they won't. You gave a powerful performance in that movie. You deserve to keep it."

I sigh, and my mind goes straight to my girlfriend. If my acting career is going up in flames, at least I still have her: steady, supportive and mine.

Lena is always ready to accompany to scary red carpets, ready to defend me, hold my hand, and stand by me when the cameras get too loud. She's my rock.

I pick up my phone to call her. The phone rings but it cuts. I frown, staring at the screen as it flashes Call Failed. That's not like her.

"Mickie, do you know if Lena is on set for a movie or something?"

"How would I know? I'm your manager, not hers," she replies with a scowl.

"Right. Sometimes, I forget how much you hate Lena."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't hate her. I just think she's an attention-seeking fame fucker. You deserve better."

I stand up, dusting my jeans. "Well, I like her. And I'm going over to her apartment."

"Really? Amidst all this chaos?"

"I might go insane if I keep reading the hate comments and death threats," I joke.

* ** ** *

LENA'S APARTMENT.

"Lena?" I call out, carefully stepping into her apartment.

No response. But I saw her car parked downstairs so I know she's home.

I take a few more steps when I see two-toned spectator shoes on the floor, next to Lena's red heel. It definitely belongs to a man.

Does she have a guest over?

I almost reach her bedroom, then—

"PLEASE AHHH! YES! FASTER! FUCK ME FASTER!" she screams, echoing through the apartment.

Panic runs through me as my heart pounds furiously.

"I'm gonna make you cum, baby," the male voice grunts back.

I bang the door open in raging fury.

Roman Sinclair is in bed with my damn girlfriend, doing what only lovers do...