The studio headquarters in Century City loomed, a glass monolith reflecting the afternoon sun. Inside, the hushed elegance of the lobby did little to calm the thrum of urgency in my veins. Sabrina was here. She had to be.
I walked past a massive poster promoting Sabrina’s latest film. Her face, airbrushed to perfection, stared down at me with an unsettling smile. The irony was like a punch.
Her assistant, a young woman with a meticulously straightened ponytail, barely looked up from her computer when I stated my name.
“Ms. Holloway is in a meeting,” she mumbled, not making eye contact.
“I know she’s here,” I said, my voice firm. “And I’m not leaving until I speak with her.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed the assistant’s face. She picked up a phone, pressing a button. “A Helena Holloway is here to see you, Ms. Holloway. She insists.”
A moment later, the assistant motioned down a long corridor. “Conference Room C, second door on the left.”
The hallway was quiet, lined with framed awards and movie stills. My heels clicked on the polished floor, the sound echoing my resolve. When I reached Conference Room C, the door was slightly ajar.
Sabrina sat at a large, gleaming table, her laptop open in front of her. She wore a pristine white power suit, her blonde hair swept back in a severe bun. She didn’t look up immediately, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was on her screen.
“Sabrina,” I said, stepping into the room.
She finally raised her head, a practiced look of mild surprise on her face. “Helena. To what do I owe the… unexpected pleasure?”
A man in a dark suit stood quietly by the doorway, his arms crossed. Grizz. His eyes met mine for a fleeting second, unreadable, then shifted back to Sabrina. He was holding his phone, angled subtly.
“You need to stop this,” I told her, keeping my voice low. “The tabloids, the eviction. This has gone too far.”
Sabrina leaned back in her chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Too far? Darling, we’re just getting started. It’s called reputation management. Yours is currently in the gutter.”
She pushed a slim leather briefcase across the table. It slid to a stop directly in front of me.
“However,” she continued, “I’m a generous woman. Always looking for an amicable solution.”
She unclipped the briefcase and pushed it open. Inside, neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills were visible, strapped with paper bands. A single, crisp white document lay on top.
“Here’s my offer,” Sabrina said, her voice dripping with condescension. “$5,000 cash. Untraceable.”
My eyes darted from the money to her face. Five thousand dollars. After everything she’d put me through, after the years I’d sacrificed, this was her valuation of my dignity.
“And in return?” I asked, a bitter taste in my mouth.
She tapped the document with a perfectly manicured finger. “You sign this formal confession, admitting to financial fraud and gross mismanagement of family funds. Then you pack your bags, leave California, and never contact Julian or Leo again.”
The air in the room felt suddenly thin. She wasn’t just offering to buy my silence; she was demanding my complete disappearance.
“This is insane,” I said, feeling a tremor of raw fury. “You think I would sign a lie for a pittance?”
Sabrina merely shrugged. “It saves us both a lot of unpleasantness. And frankly, Helena, it’s more than you deserve. After all, what do you bring to the table?”
Her words were a blunt instrument. I could feel Grizz’s gaze on me, though he remained silent, an unmoving shadow by the door. His phone was still up.
A strange thought surfaced: she wasn’t just trying to get rid of me. She was trying to provoke a public meltdown. She wanted me to reject her offer in a rage, to confirm her narrative of an ungrateful, unstable mother-in-law.
I picked up the document. My name was already typed at the bottom, waiting for my signature. The sheer audacity of it left me speechless.
“Think about it,” Sabrina said, closing the briefcase with a snap. “Five thousand dollars, or complete financial ruin, publicly televised. Your choice.”
The choice felt like no choice at all. As I stood there, reeling, Grizz’s subtle movement caught my eye. He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. A signal. But what did it mean?
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