Chapter 3 One Last Favor

I asked, "What are you doing with that?"

The trunk had belonged to my mom. Inside was the pale blue shawl she had worn during her final stage performance, along with a pair of earrings—the only piece of her jewelry I had never been able to bring myself to sell.

I reached for the trunk, but Cameron moved it out of reach. "Rose has to film a video for her fans tonight. She's already upset, and her team wants something personal in the background. Something meaningful."

For a moment, I thought I had heard him wrong.

"That belonged to my mother."

"We're just borrowing it."

"Cameron." My voice trembled despite my efforts to stay calm. "You gave her my wedding ring, and now, you want to use my mom's belongings to make her seem sympathetic?"

His expression hardened. "Noelle, do you have to make everything sound so ugly?"

I shot back, "Am I making it sound ugly, or are you just finally hearing what you're doing?"

Cameron fell silent for a moment, then let out a humorless laugh. "I won Best Actor tonight. Every camera in the industry is on me right now. If Rose has a public breakdown, the press will turn it into a story about how I abandoned her after everything that happened."

He looked straight at me. "You've been with me for eight years. You know I can't afford a mess right now."

I said nothing, and for a moment, neither did he.

Then his expression softened. "Noelle, help me one last time. Please?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. 'So, he still remembers how to ask nicely when he wants something from me.'

Funny, though. I could not remember the last time he had spoken to me so gently without wanting something in return.

Somewhere along the way, his apologies, his soft words, even the rare moments when he swallowed his pride had all begun to mean the same thing. He needed me to give up something else.

My hand slowly fell away from the trunk.

Cameron carried it toward the door, then looked back at me. "Once all this settles, I'll take you somewhere for your birthday."

I smiled faintly. "My birthday was three months ago."

He stopped for a second, but he never turned around.

…

At ten that morning, Cameron's manager called me into the studio.

The moment I stepped into the dressing room, I saw Rose sitting in front of the mirror with my mom's shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

The pale blue fabric rested softly against her skin. Her makeup was almost nonexistent, except for the carefully reddened corners of her eyes.

When she saw me, she ran her fingers over the shawl. "It's beautiful, Noelle. Cameron said it was just an old costume piece. I didn't realize it was valuable."

I did not answer her.

Instead, I looked at Cameron.

He was standing across the room, reviewing the rundown for the livestream.

To everyone else, he was always composed, gracious, and gentle. Even when he was being cruel, he somehow managed to make it look as though he were simply cleaning up someone else's mess.

I demanded, "Give me the shawl."

Cameron looked up. "She'll give it back after the livestream."

"I want it now!"

He closed the folder in his hands, walked over, and lowered his voice. "Noelle, don't start."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "My mom is dead, Cameron. I'm asking for something she left me, and somehow I'm the one causing a scene?"

He stared at me for several seconds before lifting a hand to straighten the collar of my blouse.

For one dangerous second, I glimpsed the boy he was eight years ago. The boy who would take off his jacket and wrap it around me when I was cold, the same boy who had once convinced me I was the most important person to him.

Yet, whatever tenderness remained in the gesture never reached his eyes.

He said, "You used to know when to let things go."

I turned my head away. His fingers fell through empty air.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

"I know what you're angry about," he said, his tone softening again. "The ring, Rose, and the pictures last night. I know it all hurt you."

He paused before continuing. "But tonight matters. Let me finish the livestream, and then I'll take you home. I'll make it up to you properly."

If I had not heard what he said in the dressing room the night before and had not seen my wedding ring on Rose's hand, I might have believed him.

Even then, some foolish part of me almost wanted to.

I looked at him and forced a smile that hurt more than tears. "How?"

His expression relaxed slightly. "However you want."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

I held his gaze. "Then, tell everyone I'm your wife."

The smile disappeared from his face.

Across the room, Rose gave a quiet cough.

Cameron remained silent for a moment before answering in a controlled voice, "Noelle, don't test me with something like that."

I stared at him. "Test you?"

"You want me to say I can't live without you? Fine." He looked down at me with the same eyes that had pulled me back in more times than I could count. "I'll admit it. No one has mattered more to me over the past eight years than you."

My chest tightened, but he was not finished.

"Going public isn't some little romantic gesture. It affects my contracts, the studio, endorsements—everything."

Then came the words that finally killed whatever hope I still had left.

"You're an adult, Noelle. Stop acting like you need a public label to prove I love you."

For a moment, I could barely breathe.

For eight years, Cameron had asked me to wait, and each time I convinced myself it was only temporary.

I never asked him for much in return. All I wanted now was for him to acknowledge me as his wife after all we had been through.

Yet somehow, even that was too much to ask.

To him, wanting to be called his wife made me childish.

The dressing room door opened, and a production assistant leaned inside. "Cameron? We're live in ten."

He nodded before turning back to me. "You'll stay backstage and watch the rundown. Make sure nothing goes wrong."

I did not move.

His brows drew together. "Noelle."

My voice came out quieter than I expected. "I quit."

The room went silent, and every head turned toward me.

Cameron stared at me as if I had just said something impossible. "What?"

"I'm done." I met his gaze. "I'm no longer your publicist or assistant. I'm done being the woman behind the curtain, making sure you always look perfect."

From the mirror, Rose watched me carefully.

For the briefest second, satisfaction flashed in her eyes. It disappeared almost immediately, replaced by another wounded expression.

"Cameron, it's okay," she said softly. "Noelle's obviously upset. I can explain everything myself."

Cameron did not even look at her.

He was still staring at me.

Then, slowly, he laughed. "You're serious? If this is your way of getting me to chase after you, you're taking it a little far tonight."

I froze.

Even after everything, Cameron still did not believe me.

For eight years, I had swallowed every hurt, stayed when I should have walked away, and given in whenever he pushed too far.

And now, the one time I finally told him I was leaving, he dismissed it as just another attempt to get his attention.

Cameron had already turned away.

He picked up my mom's wooden trunk and handed it to a production assistant. "Get this on set."

Then, he glanced at his manager. "Deactivate Noelle's staff credentials and keep her away from the control room. She's too emotional tonight."