Breaking the System

The wire snapped forty feet up. I hit the ground, and when I woke up, most of my life was gone.

So I called the only number in my phone saved as "Husband." The man who picked up was an Alist movie star.

He laughed like I'd told a bad joke. "What is this, some new little game?" Somewhere behind him, a woman murmured for him to calm down. "Fine. Remember it this time, then.

You and me, we were a publicity stunt. Nothing else." I was still trying to breathe around that when the door banged open.

The man who walked in owns half this industry from the shadows. They say he doesn't have a soft setting.

They say the last starlet who crawled into his bed got carried out to the hotel lobby by security, career finished by morning.

He crossed the room, killed the call with one thumb, and pushed his face into the curve of my neck like a sulking kid. "Babe.

No more shooting fake little romances with other men every time we fight." His voice cracked, barely. "I was this close to dying of jealousy." Chapter 1 The wire snapped midstunt, I hit the ground, and I woke up with a hole where my memory used to be.

The doctors said the fastest way back was familiar faces. Familiar things. Go find the people you love, they told me, and let them pull you home. So I opened my phone.

Every thread was empty. A few unread work messages, nothing else. I scrolled and scrolled and couldn't find one name I'd call a friend. Was I really this alone?

Something in my chest pulled tight. I told myself it was the concussion. Then I found him. One contact, saved in my own handwriting. Husband.

My eyes went hot before I could think it through. I called. It rang once and died. Declined. I called again. Again.

On the fourth try it connected, and before I could get a word out, a man's voice cut through the ward, thin with irritation. "Camille. For God's sake, are you done?

Stop hounding me." I sat there, stunned, for two full seconds. Then the tears just fell and soaked into the sheet. "Are you my husband?" My voice came out small. "I lost my memory.

There's a lot I don't remember." He laughed. Not warm.

The contempt in it was almost clean, it was so direct. "What is this, some new little game to get my attention?" "Cora takes one fall on set, and now suddenly you've had one too.

What are the odds." "You like to perform? Fine. I'll play along. But get this through your head. You and me, we were a stunt. Publicity.

That's all." Behind him, a woman's voice, sugarsoft and staged, cooed at him not to be angry. His disgust was so open it frightened me.

My fingers curled into the seam of my slacks without my telling them to. Why does he hate me this much? Were we really just colleagues?

The question was still forming when the door slammed open. He came in fast.

Before I understood what was happening he had me against his chest, and he'd plucked the phone out of my hand and killed the screen in the same motion.

He pressed his face into the side of my neck and nuzzled. Sulking. Wounded. "Babe.

No more shooting fake little romances with other men every time we fight." "I was this close to dying of jealousy." I went rigid. Because I knew exactly who he was.

Anyone in the industry did. Kingsley ran half of it from behind the curtain, the money and the mergers and the careers he made or unmade over dinner. They called him cold.

Bloodless. The starlet who slipped into his bed one night was carried out to the hotel lobby by security and finished by sunrise.

A rising idol said one wrong word about him at a dinner table and was gone from every screen by midnight. That man. The one who ended people without raising his voice.

Was currently pouting at me. He pulled back to check my face, and when I didn't react, his whole expression crumpled into something pitiful. "Babe.

You don't want me anymore?" "Babe. Say something." "Babe. Babe. Babe—" I finally found my voice. "You're really my husband? I— I lost my memory.

I've forgotten a lot." Where Cassian had been all ice, Kingsley just looked wrecked for me.

I watched the flood of it move behind his eyes, and somehow the panic in my chest began to settle. "Babe. I should've gotten here sooner." "It doesn't matter that you forgot.

You only have to know one thing. I'm your husband." The body doesn't lie. Mine didn't flinch from him. Didn't want to. I nodded, and my hand found his like it already knew the way.

He went still, staring down at our fingers laced together. And then, without a sound, his eyes went red. Chapter 2 He didn't leave my side once.

His assistant called twice, needing him back in Los Angeles, and both times he turned them down without looking up.

That night he'd taken me back to his estate, and the household had never seen him like this.

Under all that walltowall attention I healed fast, and made my peace with the blank spaces in my head. So when my scans came back clean, I told him I wanted to go back to work.

He's always gentle with me. Right then his face went flat and his smile came out wrong. "Babe. Do you have to?" "Of course I do.

I'm not going to sit at home being decorative." I poked his chest. "Why are you so nervous?" "I just don't want anything happening to you again." "Nothing's going to happen.

It's a slowformat reality show. That's all." "Mm." He didn't let go.

He held on like the second his grip loosened I'd be gone, arms locked around me, his voice low and muffled against my hair. "You're so clingy," I teased.

I thought that was all it was.

A man who didn't want to let his wife out the door. "Only with you." Then he took my face in both hands and kissed me like he meant to leave a mark, and I almost overslept because of it.

By the time I reached set, the other guests had already arrived. So had Cassian. His name hadn't been anywhere on the cast list.

My assistant went pale, whispering fast at my shoulder. "Camille, I just asked around. He signed on out of nowhere.

He's been turning this show down for months." "If you don't want to be in the same room as him, we walk. Right now. Mr.

Kingsley said the word, you're unhappy, we stop, and the penalty fee is not a problem." After the accident, Kingsley had bought three production companies outright, just to own everything that got filmed around me.

He'd built me my own studio to run my schedule. Every assistant and manager near me was someone he'd chosen himself. He'd already done so much.

I wasn't going to bother him over something this small. "It's fine," I said. "He told me Cassian and I had some fallingout after a showmance went sideways, and he's been buying up smear pieces on me ever since.

I just don't engage." I'd read up on myself, these last few days. Mostly gossip accounts claiming I'd been hopelessly, onesidedly obsessed with the man.

Each caption more unhinged than the last. That I'd drunk myself into a bleeding stomach to land him a role. That I'd totaled a car speeding a script across town for him.

That I'd shown up screaming at Cora's events, making scenes on camera to force him to pick a side. I took the mic from my assistant, clipped it on, and gave her a reassuring smile.

None of it felt like me.

And in a few minutes I'd walk onto a live set beside a man who looked at me like something scraped off his shoe, for reasons I couldn't remember, while the cameras counted down to air.

Chapter 3 The show aired live, a million viewers and climbing, and Cora had already decided how the night was going to go.

To pull the audience in, the producers had opened a running poll. Viewers voted, and whatever game topped the chart, we played.

Between the new format and Cassian dropping in out of nowhere, the stream cracked a million the moment it opened. The host scrolled the numbers and grinned. "First game, a classic.

Truth or Dare. Except tonight the truths and dares come straight from your topvoted comments. Our viewers are feeling nosy, so buckle up." Cora slid me a look, sweet as anything.

She was a guest too. "Camille. Late again?" A soft, sorry smile. "Guess that earns you a dare." Late again.

One little word, and she'd pinned the label on me in front of a million people. Careless. Rude. Maybe she meant it, maybe she didn't.

Either way I was the one in the wrong tonight, so I let it go and nodded.

The host drew a card, eyes pingponging between me and Cassian, having a wonderful time. "Camille, call the contact pinned at the top of your phone, and tell them you miss them." Cassian had just taken home Best Actor.

He sat dead center, the whole room orbiting him, and at the words he gave a cold little laugh, pulled out his phone, and powered it off.

Cora gasped for the camera. "Cassian, why'd you just turn your phone off?" Which, of course, put every eye in the room on the silent, deliberate little move. "Didn't want a nuisance call interrupting the shoot." His gaze settled on me.

It felt like a warning. The comments detonated. [ she's SO thirsty. dragged him into a showmance on set, now she wants him on a variety show ] [ am I seeing this??

Best Actor literally BLOCKED her, live ] [ case closed. she's been chasing him onesided and he's exhausted ] I had no idea what was going on between the two of them.

I just dialed my own top contact. Kingsley. Busy signal. In a meeting, probably. I hung up and told the room I was sorry, it hadn't gone through.

Cora blinked, then arranged her face into surprise. "What are the odds. Cassian turns his phone off and suddenly Camille can't get through.

And here I thought her pinned contact was Cassian." Before I could get a word in, Cassian beat me to it. "It was promo work. Nothing more.

Don't read into it." Cora dropped her eyes, shy, like the line had been meant only for her.

The comments swooned. [ our boy never does variety, he came for Cora, it's OBVIOUS ] [ simp go home, stop wrecking a real ship ] [ CASSORA winning SO BIG today i'm crying they're so soft ] Cora had the room, and the host had clearly bought the story that I was the desperate one. "Care to tell us who you called?" Kingsley is who he is.

I had no intention of going public and getting stamped an industry plant.

So I let a few seconds pass, then smiled. "I'd rather not say." They pounced like I'd handed them a confession. [ Camille SAVING FACE lmaooo ] [ blocked by Best Actor, of course it won't connect ] [ told you SHE'S the third wheel wedging into Cora and Cassian ] Cora couldn't quite hide the satisfaction in her eyes.

She flashed me a small, sharp smile. A few rounds later, Truth came back around to me.

The host read it out. "Any wedding plans in your near future?" Kingsley's face surfaced before I could stop it. I kept it vague. "Soon." The room erupted, everyone guessing who.

The poise on Cora's face fractured. "Camille, your lover actually agreed to marry you? How could he possibly—" Her eyes reddened as she spoke, like I'd wounded her past all repair.

None of it made sense to me, and I looked away, done with it.

Before taping, my assistant had told me the rest: Cora's crush on Cassian was an open secret in the industry, and my showmanceturnedscandal with him meant she'd probably have it out for me.

I've never had the patience for catfights, and I had no interest in sparring with some lovestruck girl. But she'd come at me one time too many.

So I smiled, wide and easy, and said it slow, one word at a time. "My own lover won't say yes to me yet.

What makes you think he'd ever say it to you?" The color drained from Cora's face, inch by inch. "Camille, that's not what I meant." "Then what did you mean?" I propped my chin on my hand and looked at her, like the whole thing was just fun.

Chapter 4 Her thin frame swayed like it might fold. She pressed a hand to her cheek and hurried out. "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well." Cassian was up and after her in an instant.

The taping ground to a halt. In the greenroom, I scrolled the comments tearing me apart, still trying to work out where all the hate came from.

Cassian came through the door with no warning and clamped a hand around my throat. "Camille. I really underestimated you." The shove caught me completely off guard.

I went backward and the small of my back cracked into the edge of the vanity. The pain punched the air out of me. I forced the words up. "What are you talking about?

Let go of—" His eyes were nothing but disgust. He laughed, cold. "Right. I forgot.

Your whole thing right now is amnesia." His grip bore down, like he was working something poisonous out of himself. I couldn't stop coughing. The air wouldn't come.

I clawed at his fingers and he knocked my hand away without a flicker. The pain wrung the tears out of me.

I dragged at whatever breath I could reach and couldn't get out a single whole sentence. Only when I was seconds from going limp did he let go, in no hurry at all. My legs buckled.

I caught the back of a chair and barely stayed standing. My chest throbbed. Something heaved up in me and I gagged, and couldn't stop.

Cassian watched me come apart with nothing on his face.

Then he turned, slid a disinfectant wipe from the box on the table, and cleaned his hand, slow and thorough, one finger at a time. "Camille.

Don't you find yourself disgusting." "Cassian." I could barely get the sound out. "What actually happened between us?" The anger and the confusion knotted and pulled tight over my chest.

I planted a hand on the vanity, knuckles to the edge, and stared at my own bloodless face in the mirror.

Whatever he felt for me, it had left the territory of a work grudge a long way back. "Tsk." He made the one small sound, his mouth curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You know, on set, I never noticed what a good actress you are." He didn't wait for an answer.

The door slammed behind him. I looked at the pale stranger in the mirror and couldn't shake the dread crawling up my spine. Something told me I'd forgotten something terrible.

He'd watched me fall apart, and he still went to the crew and had them move the night's schedule up. His reason: Cora wasn't well, they should wrap early.

I didn't want my private mess bleeding into the job, so I swallowed it and agreed. The stream came back on, and the screen flooded with worry.

For her. [ what happened to Cora, is she okay?? ] [ my girl pushing through even sick, we don't deserve her ] [ praying for Cora, she's too pure for this world ] Cora coughed delicately behind her hand and gave the camera a gentle smile. "Don't blame Camille.

I'm fine, really." No one had said my name. She dragged it in on purpose, and the denial landed exactly like the accusation it was built to be. Cassian swept a cold look over me.

Loud, for something so silent.

The comments went off like a match to gas. [ RIGHT, Cora got sick the second AFTER Camille spoke ] [ what were they even talking about before ] [ Camille chases Best Actor around daily, everyone knows she wants him. the "marriage" thing was OBVIOUSLY aimed at him. when did he ever say he'd marry her ] [ she did it ON PURPOSE.

Cora probably misread Cassian because of her ] [ i will END this witch. how DARE she wreck my ship ] The host's face pinched.

He forced a laugh and started smoothing it over. "Everyone's reading too much into it. Our guests get along wonderfully." "Next up, the cooking round.

Our guests will split the work and put dinner together." "Let's see what they can do." He beamed, and had us draw lots for who'd do what.

I'd just been strangled in a room offcamera. Out here, a million people were lighting torches for me and building a shrine to the girl who'd staged it.

And now the show was going to lock me in a kitchen beside them until the food was done. Chapter 5 I drew grocery runs. Cora drew cooking.

I'd just picked up the envelope of cash to head for the market when Cassian called after me. "Cora isn't feeling well. She can't be around the grease and smoke.

Switch with her." Not a request. An order. I looked at his flat certainty and laughed. "No." He clearly hadn't expected me to refuse. His face went dark.

He pulled off his mic, doing his best impression of a man being merciful. "This isn't the time to throw a tantrum.

There are a lot of people watching." "Emotional blackmail?" I didn't bother softening it. "Sorry.

I don't buy it." "Camille, I'd like you to keep your personal feelings out of the job. This is live.

Don't take it out on Cora just because I look after her." I let out a cold breath and said it plainly. "What makes you think I'd lift a finger for someone who's had it out for me?

And what makes you think I'd take orders from a man who put his hands on me twenty minutes ago?" "And honestly, the one mixing personal with professional here looks a lot like you." "I'd say I've been extremely professional.

Otherwise you'd be at a police station right now, not a soundstage." Cassian said nothing for a long moment.

When he looked at me, it was with something close to alarm. "Enjoy the rest of the shoot," I said. "The summons comes after." I didn't wait for a reply. I turned and walked off.

Dinner started, and I sat in front of a table of nothing but chili and heat with no idea where to begin. "Camille, is it not to your taste?" Cora pressed her lips together, careful, delicate. "It's fine.

My stomach's just sensitive. I can't really do spicy." "Oh no.

I'm so sorry, I didn't know that ahead of time." Her eyes welled, and she rose, radiating selfblame, already promising to remake a few dishes. I didn't stop her.

I just said, easily, "Thank you." Cora froze halfway up. Stuck. She'd only meant to perform the offer.

She hadn't planned on me refusing to play my part, hadn't planned on me skipping the polite little nopleasedon'ttroubleyourself. "No need," Cassian said, setting down his chopsticks and waving her back into her seat. "If you start over now, you'll miss your medical appointment." "I'd completely forgotten.

Thank you for reminding me." Cora laughed, awkward, and slipped out from under the topic. "Just make do with a little, Camille." Cassian turned to me, the double standard on full display. "Sorry.

I can't make do." I held his eyes. "Cora's health matters. I happen to think mine does too.

Don't you agree?" It put him on the exact moral high ground he'd tried to build, except now I was the one standing on it. His face darkened a shade.

Whatever was in his eyes, I couldn't read it. The air went strange and quiet. I stood, walked to the kitchen, and dug a bag of frozen dumplings out of the freezer.

Frozen dumplings over their idea of fair. Easy call.

Chapter 6 By the time I carried the cooked dumplings back to the dining room, Kingsley was sitting at the head of the table like he owned it. Every camera was off.

The whole crew stood waiting on his word. The showrunner hovered at his elbow, smile oiled to a shine. "Mr. Kingsley. What brings you here?" "I'd like to sit in on the taping.

That work for you?" "It works. It absolutely works. We'll roll right now." "You've caught us at the dinner round. Have you eaten?

You're welcome to join the cast." Kingsley picked up a pair of chopsticks, nudged the chili on the plate in front of him a couple of times, and set them down again.

The director's face snapped tight. "Is it not to your liking?

I'll have a professional chef here immediately—" Kingsley tilted his head, unhurried, his voice giving nothing away. "It's not that it isn't to my liking.

It's that my wife has a delicate stomach. She can't eat anything spicy