Margot sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Steven’s been wanting this award for years. How was I supposed to know you were gunning for it, too? And for the record, take down that video. Say it was AI-generated or something.”
Her audacity was almost laughable.
'Steven’s been wanting this award for years?'
She didn’t even remember what I said but knew every word that man had uttered.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, “but I have one condition. I want you to acknowledge our relationship publicly.”
Her answer was immediate and cold. “That’s not happening.”
“What’s so embarrassing about being with me?” I snapped. My frustration bubbled over.
Margot softened her tone, trying to sound reasonable. “Frank, you know I just won the Best New Actress Award this year. I can’t afford a scandal right now. Steven’s immature! Don’t stoop to his level, okay?”
Her response felt like a slap in the face. After two years of hiding our relationship, after all I’d done for her, she was asking me to protect his reputation.
I raised my cast-covered left hand, my voice trembling with anger. “You want me to stoop to his level? When this—” I gestured to my broken hand “—happened because he took what was mine?”
Margot’s demeanor shifted instantly. Her face hardened. “Frank, you’re a pianist. No one would dare mess with your hands. Don’t lie to me.”
With that, she turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, my chest heaving, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. The pain in my hand was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
A few nights later, a group of thugs broke into my piano room. They didn’t just come to intimidate me—they came to destroy me.
Wielding bats and crowbars, they shattered my piano, the very heart of my career. I tried to shield it, but they pinned me down, holding me helpless. A bat came down hard on my already fractured left hand.
The pain was so overwhelming I nearly blacked out. Through the haze of agony, my phone buzzed.
Trembling, I picked it up with my right hand.
It was Margot.
Her voice, cold and indifferent, cut through the chaos. “I’m here with Steven. Apologize to him—right now—and this ends.”
“Apologize for what?” I rasped, barely able to form words through the pain.
“For violating his privacy, of course. That video you posted—delete it and apologize. There’s no room for negotiation.”