- 4.
The next morning, the studio car arrived. Ethan
saw me off, kissing me goodbye. “Take care,
honey. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“We’re filming an explosion scene today,” |
casually mentioned.
Ethan frowned. “The schedule said that wasn’t
until next week.”
“They changed it. Saves them having to set up
the scene twice,” I replied smoothly.
He hugged me, oblivious to my test. “Be
careful. Make sure they take all the necessary
precautions.”
<
My heart sank. Whenever I had a risky scene,
explosions, car chases, stunts, Ethan would be there, overseeing everything, personally
checking safety measures. But now… with news
of Sarah’s marital woes fresh out, he couldn’t even bother to pretend.
If that’s how he felt, I’d give them their happily ever after.
During a break, I spotted Ethan’s Rolls Royce at a nearby set. Sarah was filming there. An urge to see him one last time propelled me towards his car. Only his driver and assistant were inside. They scrambled out, flustered.
“Mrs. Stone, Mr. Stone… he’s just in the restroom…” Their eyes darted nervously towards Sarah’s trailer.
I understood. I walked over and knocked. Ethan opened the door. Sarah was on the couch
behind him, hair disheveled, blouse buttoned haphazardly. Ethan panicked for a split second, then regained his composure. “Amelia! I was just… visiting you and ran into Sarah. We’re discussing some business.”
I smiled thinly. “Really? What business? You
never mentioned it.”
“Just boring work stuff. You wouldn’t be
interested,” he said dismissively, his voice still
gentle.
Before I could respond, his assistant hurried over with his phone. “Mr. Stone, it’s an international call. They’ve been trying to reach
you.”
Ethan patted my head. “Be right back, honey.” He took the phone and stepped aside.
Sarah crossed her legs, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Curious what we’re talking about? My dear sister… Ethan’s company is about to announce me as their new brand ambassador. The whole world will know Mr. Stone chose his wife’s rival… How’s that for a slap in the face?”
“Just you wait, Amelia. Everything you have, I’ll take it, piece by piece.” She flashed a bright, challenging smile, deliberately showing me a fresh love bite on her neck.
Sarah and I were half–sisters. She’d been raised
elsewhere, only brought home after my mother
died. I tried to bond with her, but she resented
me, blaming me and my mother for stealing her
father and her life. Dad, guilt–ridden, always
favored her, making me give in to her every
whim. Even when she stole Mark at my
wedding, he’d merely scolded her before
handing her my place at the altar. It had sent
me spiraling into depression. It was Ethan who
pulled me out, showering me with love and
tenderness. Sarah kept snatching my
opportunities, and Ethan would soothe me with,
“Acting is just a hobby, honey. I want you home
with me.”
I felt so loved. Now, looking back, I realized my
rival wasn’t just Sarah, but the man I shared my
bed with.
“Oh, and Ethan was just bringing me the script
for my new movie,” Sarah continued, waving a thick manuscript. “He’s investing again. Top.
director, amazing cast. Filming starts soon.”
She handed me the script. The title jumped out:
Redemption in the Clouds. My hands trembled
<
434
as I flipped through the pages. I had a script at home, one I’d been polishing for seven years. It was our story, Ethan and mine, our journey
from strangers to lovers. Now, Ethan had gifted it to Sarah.
I opened my mouth to confront him, but Sarah’s knowing smile stopped me. She suddenly slapped herself, hard, twice, then screamed, “Ah!”
“Amelia, what are you doing?!” Ethan, about to step onto the trailer, rushed towards Sarah, pushing me aside. “Sarah, are you alright?” He didn’t even glance at me.
Sarah clutched her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Ethan, I don’t know… I didn’t do
anything. I just invited her in for tea and she
attacked me, called me names…”
Ethan’s eyes, cold and furious, met mine.
“Amelia! I know you have issues with Sarah, but
you can’t just hit her! Look at her face! How’s
she supposed to film now? There are paparazzi
everywhere. If they see this, what are we going
to do?”
<
I stared at him, eyes burning, but no tears fell. I
didn’t explain. I didn’t hit her. I just asked, “Why did you give Sarah my script?”
His voice was ice. “What script? I told you to
stop being so career–obsessed. It’s just a
script. Who cares who films it? We agreed
you’d step back from acting, focus on being a wife, starting a family.”
I turned away, fists clenched so tight my nails
dug into my palms. Exhaustion and
disappointment washed over me. A wife, a family? Never.
Perhaps my hollow expression startled him. His tone softened. “Amelia, I’m sorry. I overreacted. I was just worried about the paparazzi and what they’d write. Everyone knows you and Sarah are sisters. You’re my wife, I don’t want people
talking badly about you.”
He stroked my hair. “Go back to filming. I’ll join you for lunch. Be good.”
I nodded. Turning away, I let out a bitter laugh.
Poor Ethan, juggling two women.
