The betrayal

Arman's POV

I didn’t know which would prevail: anger or hurt. My heart felt like it would explode.

I sat in Bridget’s office, waiting for her. She had the script for the drama she had told me about. The title was boldly written on the first page in stylish fonts: Romance Saga.

I opened it and went through it while I waited. It was an office romance theme. A wealthy old man discovered his long-lost son on his deathbed and willed all his property to him, finding and bringing the boy from an old ranch in Texas. A village boy was now forced to wear suits instead of boots and hats.

The old man had worked with a very young personal assistant, a city girl named Brenda Cox, who used to be in the streets. Brenda, on the orders of her late employer, does her best to make sure he fits into his new position and that his inheritance is not stolen from him. Like the fiction it was, the two fall in love in the process.

It was easy to imagine myself playing the role. I would kill it. A good excuse to ride a horse and wear those badass cowboy boots was welcome.

“What do you think about it?” Bridget asked as she came in. She was grinning from ear to ear as she handed me a document. “You need to sign here. I made sure the contract terms would suit you; I even included that you get to keep your wardrobe after the shooting. I know you’ll love the boots”.

I hated that she knew me so well. “I told you I won’t be signing it. You should not have accepted it on my behalf, because now you’ll have to return it,” I argued stubbornly.

Bridget’s grin did not falter. “Oh. Did Molly show up last night?” she asked, her voice mocking. “Did she even pick up her calls?” Bridget angled her head.

We both knew the answers to her questions.

“What do you know, Bridget? How did you know Molly would not be coming?” I asked, my tone harsh. I needed her to know I was serious.

Reading the script for the movie and thinking about boots had toned down my anger, but I was still as hurt as when I walked into the office.

“Same way I knew you were going to propose. I keep an eye on you and for you. Whether you like it or not, Trevvy, I care about you. I always have. Everything I do is for your own good.” She was now pushing the emotional button.

“You have yet to answer my questions, Ash. Either you answer me, or you return this.” I dropped the document on her table and got to my feet.

Bridget scoffed but settled comfortably into her chair. “Promise me that if I tell you, you will sign the papers and join the drama,” Bridget bargained.

Just as she spoke the words, my phone began buzzing insanely. It was Molly.

“Or you can just go to her and forget about the drama. I would return the papers.” Bridget shrugged, but she knew she had won.

I knew deep down that even if I found out why Molly had been unavailable yesterday, no matter how legit it was, I would not be getting married this year, nor would I be asking her to marry me.

“I promise”.

Bridget nodded. “I don’t think I have the right words, so I’ll just show you.” She pressed some buttons on her laptop before turning it to me.

My heart shattered into a million pieces. Darkness blurred my sight for some seconds. No, I didn’t faint, but I thought my soul had left my body.

“Breathe, Trevvy,” Bridget cooed.

I forced breaths through my nostrils as I moved from picture to picture, then to video.

“Since when?” I asked. My eyes did not leave the screen.

“I began watching her last month, and she was already into it. I don’t know when she started or…” Bridget trailed off.

“Who is he?” I asked. She knew who I was talking about.

“Some hotshot director. She’s probably trying to fuck her way to the top,” Bridget muttered.

My skin suddenly felt slimy, dirty, disgusting. I wanted to throw up for every time I had touched her. I pushed the hurt behind me and focused on the anger.

“I want this in a hard drive,” I told Bridget. Then I pulled the document closer and signed.

I picked up my phone on the first ring when Molly called again.

“Hey, babe. I am so sorry about yesterday. You would not believe what happened!” she explained.

She was right; I would not have believed that she had been fucking some director while I sat alone waiting for her for three hours. I would not believe that I was going to propose to public property.

“Molly. We’re over. I never want to see you again.” And then I hung up.

To Bridget, I asked, “Can you make sure I never see her again?”.

Bridget nodded. “I’ll see what I can do”.

Usually, when I felt hurt like this, I would crawl back to my corner. I would do anything to leave where I was and go home, but today I didn’t. If I were alone, I would cry. And that whore wasn’t worth it.

“Who is going to be the female lead?” I asked Bridget. It was my attempt to drown myself in work.

“Eloise wanted Bella Hudson; I heard Jeremiah Lake had to go to Canada to get her,” Bridget shrugged, but then she toned her voice down and whispered, “But I heard Bella was making unrealistic demands and M.J. has replaced her. He found fresh blood”.

I almost laughed; M.J. was a legend in this field. He could make anyone a successful actor.

“Woah. I can’t wait to see her then. What is she like? What does she do?” I was curious. Anything to get my mind off Molly.

“I heard—you will not believe it—that she is a doctor. And she has an out-of-this-world kind of beauty.” Bridget was still whispering.

“A doctor? Has she agreed to do it?” I didn’t care about looks anymore. Turns out that the prettier a girl was, the more whorish she tended to be.

“Well, he’s determined he’ll make her agree. He will bring her along with him,” Bridget relayed.

M.J. wanted to turn a doctor into an actress? I couldn’t wait to see how things unfolded.