I was at the absolute peak of my career when I officially went public with Hugh Hayes. He was Hollywood’s most brilliant young director, the mastermind behind two consecutive blockbuster television series that had broken streaming records worldwide. The moment my Instagram post dropped, my comment section exploded. Not with congratulations, but with an avalanche of sheer venom. Stop trying to clout-chase, okay? Everyone knows Hugh has had a girlfriend for years. If you’re his girlfriend, then what the hell is Chloe Vance? Lmao, go look at Hugh’s comments. He literally said he doesn’t even know you, lady. What are you trying to prove? Plus, his next lead actress is literally Chloe. Reading those comments, I felt the air leave my lungs. Chloe was his childhood best friend. She had clung to him like a shadow since they were kids. But he had looked me in the eyes and promised me the lead role in his new series. I took a screenshot of the comments and texted it to him, demanding an explanation. Hugh brushed it off like it was nothing. The industry is cutthroat, Phoebe. Chloe doesn’t have any backing; she gets walked all over. She’s only been in the business for a year, she needs a lead role to cement her status. Don’t take it personally. I promise the lead in my next project is all yours. Just delete that post. It’s not a good look for you anyway. I stared at those three text bubbles for a long time. Suddenly, I just felt utterly exhausted. If this was how it was going to be, then fine. I was done. 1. I deleted the post claiming Hugh as my boyfriend. But the internet had already done its thing. I was trending everywhere. #PhoebeCloutChasing #HughHayesDeniesKnowingPhoebe #ChloeAndHughRealCouple In less than thirty minutes, my name was attached to half a dozen toxic hashtags dominating the trending page. My DMs were flooded with death threats and vile curses from Chloe’s fan base. I scrolled through them slowly, my thumb swiping across the screen. My expression didn’t even flicker. After clawing my way up through this industry for seven years, I had heard far worse. I was bulletproof when it came to internet hate. I closed my DMs and clicked over to Hugh’s profile. He had posted a new photo five minutes ago, officially announcing the female lead for his new series. It was a candid, beautifully lit photo of Chloe reading a script. His comment section was having a field day. Is this Hugh’s subtle way of clapping back at that desperate clout-chaser? Lmao, that actress must be desperate for fame. Claiming Hugh is her boyfriend? The delusion is real. As if she could ever get the official girlfriend treatment like our girl Chloe! I lowered my eyes, double-tapped the comment to like it, and closed the app. Let them think I was just desperate for attention. It was true that I didn’t get the “official treatment” Chloe did. Nobody in the industry would ever connect me to Hugh Hayes. If I really had Hugh pulling strings for me, I would have skyrocketed to the A-list years ago. I wouldn’t have spent seven grueling years playing minor roles just to build a shred of name recognition. But the bitter irony was that Hugh and I did have a relationship. We had been quietly, secretly dating for nearly ten years. I scrolled down his feed and saw the specific comment someone had left, asking what his relationship with me actually was. Hugh had replied with exactly four words: We aren’t close. Don’t know her. Those four words were the reason I was being torn apart online. A bitter, hollow smile touched the corners of my mouth. Right then, a text from Hugh popped up. I saw the trending topics. Let’s talk when I get home. Hugh didn’t come home alone. He walked through the door with Chloe. The moment she saw me, Chloe raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Sorry about this, Phoebe. A couple of stalker fans were following my car, so I had to ride back with Hugh.” Chloe had had Hugh, the powerhouse director, shielding her from day one of her career. Every major audition, every role she landed, was handed to her by him. Everyone in the industry knew Hugh was Chloe’s safety net. They had slowly started feeding the media dating rumors, pushing her into the spotlight until she became an overnight sensation. Hugh dropped his keys on the counter. “Her stalker situation is getting bad. Just try to be understanding.” Understanding. I couldn’t even count how many times Hugh had thrown that word at me. Understand the PR dating rumors with Chloe. Understand why he posted a birthday shoutout to her right at midnight every year. Understand why he was funding her career. Understand why he drove four hours out of his way just to visit her on set. And now, I was supposed to understand why he brought her to our home. Again. I ignored his excuse and brought up the internet firestorm. “Chloe’s career is just taking off, and you’re finally getting public recognition too,” Hugh said smoothly, unbuttoning his jacket. “Going public right now would be toxic for both of you.” “I’ll have my PR team pull the trending topics down later tonight. Just ignore the hate comments and DMs for now.” I just stared at him. When my brain finally processed his words, a soft laugh escaped my throat. Going public wasn’t bad for me. It was bad for Chloe. If we announced we were together, Chloe would instantly be branded as the homewrecker who tried to steal Hugh Hayes. Waiting until “later tonight” to pull the trending topics was just a calculated move to let Chloe soak up the sympathy and exposure. There was a time when Hugh would see a negative comment about me and get angrier than I was. If a bad hashtag started trending, he would have it killed in minutes. Not anymore. All his protective instincts belonged to Chloe now. I uncurled my fists. Suddenly, the urge to fight just evaporated. “Sure. Whatever.” It wasn’t like he needed my permission anyway. He had already orchestrated the whole thing. Not to protect me. To protect her. Seeing me fold so easily caught Hugh off guard. He blinked, then exhaled, slipping back into his old, comforting tone. “It’ll all blow over in a few days. I promise.” Another line I had heard a hundred times before. I stayed silent. Chloe smiled, a sickly sweet expression on her face. “Phoebe, you’re not mad, are you?” I looked at her, my voice deadpan. “Mad about what?” Should I be mad that Hugh told millions of people he didn’t know who I was? Or that he refused to shut down the dating rumors between them? Or maybe I should be mad that he gave the role he promised me to her? Or that he brought her into my sanctuary. There was too much. I didn’t even know where to start. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Which part are you referring to?” Chloe faltered, glancing quickly at Hugh. She recovered with a nervous laugh. “I mean… if you’re uncomfortable, I can just go back to my place.” She looked at me like a puppy kicked out into the rain, but her eyes were glittering with smug satisfaction. She knew exactly what she was doing. Right on cue, Hugh frowned. “Go back where? There are stalkers out there. Did you forget what happened last time they followed you home?” His tone was sharp, but the underlying panic and care were impossible to miss. Chloe immediately looped her arm through his, leaning into him. “I know, I know! I just don’t want Phoebe to feel weird about it. I’d hate to cause friction between you two.” “Besides,” she added, “you came and got me last time, right?” My stomach dropped. That had been a day the production was completely shut down. A six-hour round trip just to get back to the city. I had made that drive. I hadn’t seen Hugh in weeks, and the whole drive back, I kept imagining the look on his face when I surprised him. But when I unlocked the front door, the house was dark and empty. I called him, only to find out he had driven out to ‘rescue’ Chloe. The words “I’m home” died in my throat. Hugh didn’t even wait for me to speak before he rushed me off the phone. The next morning, photos of him and Chloe walking into a boutique hotel were plastered across every gossip site. Even though her PR team claimed it was to escape crazy fans, the public narrative was cemented: they were together. And Hugh never released a single statement denying it. When I confronted him about it, what had he said? He told me to be understanding. That shutting down the rumors would hurt Chloe’s rising star. Hugh let out a heavy sigh, looking exhausted. “You know how it is.” He looked at me, hesitating slightly. “Phoebe, Chloe really does have people stalking her building. Let her crash in the spare room tonight.” He wasn’t asking. I looked him dead in the eye. “And if I say no?” Hugh’s jaw tightened. Annoyance flashed across his face, quickly masked by forced patience. Even if I screamed and threw things, he would still let her stay. “Phoebe, you know how dangerous stalkers can be,” Hugh said, his voice dropping into a patronizing register. “Don’t be so petty. You know what my relationship with Chloe is like.” Oh, I knew. After Chloe’s parents passed away, Hugh’s family had taken her in. They grew up under the same roof. When it came to Chloe, Hugh’s compass was permanently skewed. He always said she was fragile, that if he didn’t look out for her, she’d have no one. So, when I finally had a rare weekend off, he spent it with Chloe. On my birthday, he was with Chloe. On our anniversary, Chloe mentioned a headache, and he vanished. When she was filming, he was on her set every single week. When they were photographed together, he let the rumors run wild. He claimed stalkers were terrifying, but when I had aggressive paparazzi tailing my car, he blamed me for being too flashy, saying I brought it on myself. Whatever, I thought. Let it rot. I looked at Hugh, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I know. Let her stay.” Chloe blinked, surprised I caved so easily, then flashed a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Phoebe.” I stood up to leave the room, but my phone started buzzing. It was Sarah, my agent. I swiped to answer, and her furious voice blasted through the speaker. “Phoebe, you told me Hugh greenlit going public! Now the entire internet is dragging you, calling you a desperate clout-chaser! What the hell is going on?” He had agreed. He told me going public would be a relief, that we wouldn’t have to hide from cameras anymore. When I asked him for final confirmation last night, he paused for a long second, but he didn’t stop me. And when I hit post, his response was to publicly announce he didn’t know me. I let out a soft “Yeah.” Then I said, “It’s exactly what he posted online. We aren’t close.” Hugh stared at me, his expression darkening. He reached over, snatched the phone from my hand, and spoke directly to Sarah. “Now isn’t the right time. We’ll announce it properly later. I’m having my team kill the trending topics.” “It’s not her fault.” I just stood there. For a second, the back of my eyes burned. He ended the call and handed the phone back to me. He hesitated, then muttered, “We’ll do it right next time.” I gave him a small, empty smile. There wasn’t going to be a next time. When I walked out of the bathroom after my shower, Hugh and Chloe were standing in the hallway. And a fresh set of expensive silk sheets was sitting on my bed. I looked at Hugh, my voice freezing over. “What is this?” He shifted his weight, looking anywhere but my eyes. After a long pause, he muttered, “Phoebe, could you just swap rooms with Chloe for the night?” “The mattress in the guest room is too small, she can’t sleep on it.” I looked at Chloe, standing there looking perfectly innocent, then locked eyes with Hugh. “Hugh. This is the master bedroom.” Asking the woman you live with to give up her bed for your ‘friend’ was a new level of disrespect, even for him. “It’s just a bed, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he deflected. “The guest mattress is firm, Chloe isn’t used to it.” “You sleep in cramped trailers on set all the time. You’re adaptable.” Right. I hadn’t just slept in trailers. Once, on a remote location shoot, the crew accidentally left without me. I spent the entire night huddled on a freezing rock waiting for dawn. When Hugh found out back then, he was sick with worry. He didn’t sleep for days, obsessing over whether I was okay. And now? He was worried Chloe wouldn’t sleep well because the mattress was a little firm. I wasn’t giving up my bed. Why should I? I held Hugh’s gaze, unblinking. “Then she can book a suite at the Four Seasons. I am not moving.” “Phoebe!” Hugh snapped, his frustration boiling over. “It’s just a room swap! Why are you being like this? Chloe isn’t as tough as you, can’t you show a little grace?” “No,” I fired back. “I’ve shown enough grace to last a lifetime, Hugh.” I was done compromising. Chloe reached out and tugged gently on Hugh’s sleeve. “It’s fine, Hugh. Don’t fight with her.” She looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “I’ll just make do. It’s really not that bad. I’m not that fragile.” Somehow, she managed to twist the narrative perfectly. I was the irrational, jealous girlfriend, and she was the mature martyr making peace. She offered me a gentle smile. “Don’t be mad at him, Phoebe. He’s just overprotective of me.” I didn’t dignify that with a response. She said it so effortlessly, like it was a universal truth. And she wasn’t wrong. Hugh was overprotective of her. He was so protective that he dropped everything to cater to her every whim, completely disregarding anyone else in the blast radius. Just like right now, demanding I hand over my own bed because he didn’t want her to be slightly uncomfortable. That was Hugh Hayes’ love. Hugh shot me a look of pure ice, leaned over, and yanked the fresh sheets off my bed. Once they finally left, I collapsed onto the mattress, my body heavy with a bone-deep exhaustion. Hugh didn’t come back to the bedroom that night. The next morning, I was violently woken up by my phone ringing. It was Sarah, and she sounded borderline hysterical. “Hugh said he was pulling those hashtags down! Not only are they still up, but two new ones just broke the top ten!” “Everyone is tearing you apart, saying you’re trying to homewreck his relationship with Chloe.” “The director for your next project just called. He’s ‘reconsidering’ your casting. I’ve got three different brand sponsors breathing down my neck…” “Phoebe, what the hell is actually going on between you and Hugh?” I took a slow, shuddering breath. “Sarah, let me talk to him. I’ll call you right back, okay?” “Okay. Hurry,” she said before hanging up. I threw off the covers and marched downstairs. Hugh and Chloe were sitting at the kitchen island, eating breakfast. The moment Chloe saw me, the bright smile vanished from her face. “Good morning, Phoebe.” She sounded like a bullied schoolgirl forced to greet her tormentor. I completely ignored her, walking straight up to Hugh. “Hugh, why are the hashtags still trending?” “You looked me in the eye and promised you were taking them down.” I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. Hugh looked up from his coffee. He offered a cold, casual smirk. “I changed my mind.” He stared me down. “You deal with it.” Those few careless words were the final nail in the coffin. The last microscopic shred of hope I had for us shattered into dust. It hit me then. This was punishment. Because I refused to give up my bed for Chloe, he was letting my career burn to the ground. A hollow, broken laugh escaped my chest. Hugh frowned. “What’s so funny?” The back of my eyes burned fiercely. I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let a single tear fall. Crying wouldn’t change anything. No more tears. If this was who he was, there was nothing left to salvage. I looked straight into Hugh’s eyes, my vision perfectly clear. “Hugh, we’re done.” “Excuse me?” Hugh leaned back, his tone mocking. “You’re breaking up with me?” “Yeah.” My voice was dead calm. “We’re done. It’s over.” If his heart was permanently tethered to her, I didn’t want it anymore. Chloe jumped up, suddenly panicking. “Phoebe, is this because of me? If you’re that upset, I’ll pack my bags right now. Please don’t ruin your relationship over me.” She played the role flawlessly. If her eyes hadn’t been swimming with fake tears, I might have actually believed she cared. She bit her lip, looking devastated. “You guys have been through so much. Don’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around.” Hugh couldn’t stand seeing her distressed. He stood up and pulled Chloe against his side, rubbing her arm protectively. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his voice rough with irritation. “Phoebe, stop throwing tantrums and using breakups as a weapon. Grow up.” Watching him shield her from the big bad monster that I apparently was… I just looked away. I had absolutely nothing left to say. I didn’t want him anymore. I walked back up to the bedroom and called Sarah. She picked up on the first ring. “Phoebe! What did he say?” I looked out the window at the manicured lawn. After a long silence, I whispered, “Sarah, forget it.” “He did it on purpose.” The exhaustion in my voice was absolute. “Can the agency do anything to pull the tags?” Sarah let out a heavy sigh. “No. Your contract expires next month, Phoebe. The label isn’t going to spend money fixing this.” I knew that was coming. The executives had dragged me into several meetings over the last few weeks, but I had made it clear I wasn’t renewing my contract. “Okay,” I murmured. “Then let it burn. Calculate the penalty fees for the lost sponsorships and send me the total.” “We’ll just handle it.” Sarah couldn’t hold back. “You’re not going to ask Hugh for help? He’s your boyfriend! He’s just going to sit back and watch the internet tear you to shreds?” “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. She paused. “What?” I repeated it, my voice steady. “We broke up. Ten minutes ago.” “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I ended the call and opened Instagram. The app lagged violently before finally loading. My DMs were a toxic wasteland of death threats and slurs. I couldn’t even scroll through them. My comment sections were a bloodbath. My loyal fans were desperately trying to fight off the mob, but they were drowning. Lmao, this girl needs a reality check. You really think you can compete with his actual childhood sweetheart? Hugh needs a restraining order against this stalker. I don’t know what this psycho was thinking, claiming they were together. Hugh literally said ‘who?’ Embarrassing. I closed the app and turned off my phone. That evening, Sarah emailed me the itemized list of breach-of-contract penalties. I let out a breath of relief. I had lived out of a suitcase for years, hoarding every paycheck. I had enough to cover it. I transferred the funds and pulled my suitcase from the closet. Hugh and Chloe had left around noon. His new blockbuster was scheduled to start shooting in two months, which meant endless pre-production meetings and script readings. Because I practically lived on film sets, I didn’t actually have that much stuff at the house. Everything fit perfectly into one large suitcase. I dragged it downstairs and placed my spare house key perfectly in the center of the coffee table. I took one final look at the pristine, gorgeous house I had shared with Hugh. Then I turned around, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, sounding incredibly final. I texted Sarah and told her I was stepping away from acting indefinitely. “Stepping away?” Sarah sounded alarmed. “What else are you going to do?” “I’m moving to London to study at the Royal Academy,” I told her, finalizing my decision aloud. “My flight leaves the day after tomorrow.” Whatever chapter Hugh Hayes had occupied in my life, the book was finally closed. … It took a full month of grueling pre-production before Hugh suddenly realized he hadn’t received a single text from Phoebe. He pulled up their chat history. The last message was from the day she blew up the internet. Nothing since. Hugh stared at his screen, his brow furrowing. Was she seriously still throwing a tantrum? A month was a long time to hold a grudge. This was the longest they had ever gone without speaking. A strange, uncomfortable itch started crawling up the back of his neck. “Everything okay?” Chloe asked, looping her arm through his as they left the studio. “Dinner tonight?” Hugh locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He needed to go home. “Raincheck. I’ve got something to handle tonight.” Chloe’s bright smile tightened for a microsecond before smoothing out. “Going to see Phoebe?” Hugh didn’t try to hide it. “Yeah. We haven’t talked in weeks.” “I need to check in on her.” “Okay.” When Hugh unlocked the front door and stepped inside, the house was dark. Phoebe wasn’t there. He realized he had no idea what her shooting schedule was. She always used to send him perfectly color-coded PDF itineraries of her locations. Since they hadn’t spoken, he had completely lost track of where she was supposed to be. He opened their text thread, typed a message, then deleted it. He scrolled through his contacts and called her agent instead. When she answered, he asked, “What set is Phoebe on right now? I’m going to send a coffee truck.” He used to ignore her hints about visiting her sets, brushing her off with excuses about his own workload. He figured a grand gesture would be a good peace offering. Sarah was dead silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. “She didn’t tell you?” “She left the country over a month ago.”
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