Chapter 3

• How could he know that I had become so alluring?
• He hadn’t even looked at my face.
• Just the skin of my neck that simple, unguarded piece of me made his blood stir.
• I saw it in his eyes, in the hunger that flickered there, something dark and unrecognizable.
• Before I could move, Kenzo’s hands were already on my waist. His grip was firm, almost desperate. My breath caught.
• And then my feet left the ground.
• “Kenzo, what are you doing? Put me down!”
• It wasn’t until his strength closed around me that I realized what was happening. I started fighting, my fists landing uselessly against his shoulders and back. The air between us was heavy, wild.
• He didn’t stop.
• In one motion, he threw me onto the sofa.
• The shock of it left my heart pounding. I stared up at him this man who had once been my entire world and all I could see now was a stranger. The image of him with that model flashed in my mind, so vivid it made my stomach turn.
• “Kenzo, get off of me,” I spat, my voice trembling. “Don’t you dare touch me with your filthy hands!”
• He froze for a moment just a moment before his lips twisted into a cold, bitter smile. He caught my hands easily, caging them in his own. Then, with cruel precision, he pinched my chin between his fingers.
• “Filthy?” His voice was low, dangerous.
• “You think you can use that word on me? You went to the Ulysses Film Academy, didn’t you? Slept your way into show business don’t act innocent, Naomi. You know exactly how many men you’ve been with. You should feel lucky that I’m still willing to touch you. Just enjoy it.”
• The words sliced through me, sharper than any blade.
• How many men I’ve been with?
• I stared at him, my heart breaking in slow, deliberate beats. For three years, I’d told myself that no matter what rumors I heard about him and other women, about the cold way he spoke of me he was still the boy I once knew. The boy whose hand had felt like home. I believed that love could outlast the wounds of time, that maybe one day he would remember who we used to be.
• But standing there, his face hovering inches from mine, I saw nothing but cruelty.
• Before I could stop myself, I bit down hard on his tongue, when he pushed it past my lips. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, hot and bitter.
• He hissed, jerking back, his eyes darkening. For a second, neither of us moved.
• Then I saw it surprise. He hadn’t expected me to fight.
• How dare I, right?
• I pushed myself up from the sofa, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My body trembled, but I kept my head high.
• “Don’t insult me,” I said, my voice cold. “And don’t insult yourself.”
• For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Then I turned and left.
• The night air hit me like a blade.
• The autumn wind stung my cheeks, and the city lights blurred as I walked. My chest ached, but I refused to stop. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t give him that victory.
• And yet, the moment I thought of him of who he used to be the tears came anyway.
• He wasn’t always like this.
• In my memory, Kenzo wore white jerseys and jeans. He was four years older than me, always surrounded by laughter. I used to wait outside my school gates, pretending not to care, pretending not to look for him and then there he’d be, smiling shyly, his friends teasing him.
• “Not bad, Kenzo! You’ve been hiding this beautiful girlfriend of yours.”
• He’d blush, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes warm and kind when they found mine.
• That was the boy I loved.
• The boy next door.
• The boy I thought I’d grow old with.
• What happened to him?
• What happened to us?
• Now, the name “Kenzo” only hollowed me out. What once meant love now echoed with bitterness.
• My phone rang, breaking my thoughts.
• I wiped my tears and answered.
• “Hello, Naomi. The crew’s looking for a temp. Are you free? One show, two hundred bucks.”
• Two hundred. Enough to cover another day of my mother’s hospital stay.
• “Yes,” I said quickly, forcing steadiness into my voice. “I’m free. Send me the address I’ll head over now.”
• Life doesn’t stop for heartbreak.
• And I refused to fall apart. My mother needed me. Tuition, bills, medical fees they all fell on my shoulders. I couldn’t afford to be weak.
• I would live well. I would prove them all wrong.
• On Set
• The director’s voice cut through the noise.
• “Action!”
• The set came alive lights glaring, cameras rolling. The second female lead stood before me, a cup of mock anger in her eyes.
• “You shameless bitch!” she shouted, pointing at me. “How dare you seduce my husband, Raul!”
• Her hand cracked across my face before I could brace myself.
• The slap echoed. My cheek burned.
• But I didn’t break character. I let the sting fuel me. Tears welled in my eyes as I whispered, “Young mistress, it’s a misunderstanding. The Young Master and I are innocent.”
• “Cut!”
• The director grinned. “Excellent! One take. Perfect.”
• The room relaxed. The second female lead’s assistant rushed over, wrapping her in a jacket, offering her hot milk tea. She glanced at the red mark on my face and smiled with feigned guilt.
• “Oh, Naomi, I’m so sorry! I must’ve gotten carried away in the scene.”
• Her eyes said otherwise.
• But I smiled faintly. “It’s okay.”
• “Good.” She sipped her drink, her tone light. “You did well. Really convincing. Next time there’s another slapping scene, I’ll call you again.”
• She laughed softly and left.
• My friend Sakura appeared, money in hand. “Two hundred bucks,” she said, pressing the bills into my palm. She glared after the second lead. “She hit you on purpose. And then she acted like she was doing you a favor. Honestly, you’re way better than her you just haven’t had your break yet.”
• I slipped the money into my bag and shrugged. “Maybe she did hit me hard. But her hand hurts too, I bet.” I smiled faintly, rubbing my cheek. “If she truly hates me, that slap only made my acting better. Maybe she’s helping me without knowing it.”
• Sakura laughed. “You’re impossible.”
• One of our colleagues waved her over. “Come on, we’re going to the bar. Celebrate a good shoot.”
• Sakura grinned and tugged at my sleeve. “Naomi, come with us. Let’s drink and forget the world. Inebriation cures a thousand sorrows.”
• I wasn’t much of a drinker. After a few glasses of something strong and burning, my head felt light, my steps uncertain. The laughter around me blurred into a dull hum.
• “I’m going to the restroom,” I said, waving my hand. Sakura tried to follow, but someone pulled her back into the conversation. I smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”
• The hallway was dim, the floor sticky under my heels. I was halfway to the restroom when I heard my name my name, spoken softly, from behind the door of the private room we’d just left.
• I froze.
• Inside, their voices floated through the crack careless, unguarded.
• “How is Naomi willing to be slapped for two hundred? Wasn’t she the beloved daughter of the Mils family? How did she end up like this?”
• Another voice, lower, responded. “Don’t even get me started. Her father ruined everything. Naomi’s mother was close friends with Sarah Green, that famous journalist . But Sarah had an affair with Naomi’s dad gave birth to Claire twenty years ago. Naomi thought she was just a little sister. Turns out, she was the illegitimate one all along.”
• A pause. Then a sharp whisper:
• “Mr. Green ? Really? She’s so respected !”
• “Shh, keep your voice down. The world runs on power. Even if Mrs. Sarah betrayed her best friend, who dares speak up? I pity Naomi and her mother. Her mother’s still sick, and her fiancé Weber’s family hasn’t helped much. She’s really struggling.”
• A sigh.
• “If she’d just play the game go to parties, charm the producers she could be earning like a star by now.”
• “And remember when she slapped the CEO of Ulysses ? He only touched her hand, and she hit him. Now she’s blacklisted everywhere. What a waste. She was one of the best students at Ulysses Academy.”
• Their words hit me harder than that slap on set.
• I leaned against the wall, eyes burning. I could have walked away but I didn’t. I stood there and listened, because some part of me still needed to hear it. Needed to feel the pain, to remember why I was fighting so hard.
• I would never regret slapping that man.
• People say the industry is filthy and maybe it is. But not everyone in it is.
• Some of us are just trying to survive with our souls intact.
• I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and walked to the restroom.
• In the mirror, my reflection stared back pale cheeks, tear-streaked eyes, and that faint red mark from earlier.