Shattered Crown, Rising Queen

Everyone in Hollywood's inner circle knew the truth. Behind Best Actor Carter stood a ghost. Me, Vada.

I built his throne from scratch, handcrafting five bespoke scripts that launched him into superstardom. Carter made a promise.

The moment he wrapped his fingers around his fifth Academy Award, he would drop to one knee right in the middle of the Dolby Theatre.

But tonight, standing under those blinding stage lights, he thanked his producers. He thanked his costars.

He specifically thanked Paige, his first love, who was making her highly anticipated comeback. He didn't say my name. Not once.

I stood in the shadows backstage, the cold plaster pressing against my spine.

I watched him shove the velvet ring box back into his manager Raymond's chest. "Carter," Raymond said, "you've dragged this out for five years.

If you back out now, aren't you afraid Vada will actually walk?" Carter sparked a cigarette. The heavy gray smoke masked his face. "Paige is making her comeback.

She needs the spotlight right now. I can't drop a relationship bomb and ruin her momentum." "And Vada?

She waited for you." "She doesn't care about a title." Carter flicked his ash onto the linoleum floor. "She loves me.

Even if I don't put a ring on it, she's not going anywhere." He didn't know a damn thing about me. I loved hard, but I severed ties harder.

I watched him rip his handwritten proposal speech into jagged shreds and drop them into the trash can. I pulled out my phone. I blocked his number. I blocked his socials.

I wiped my digital footprint clean from his life. Perfect timing. The latest offer from Antoine, the legendary overseas director, sat unread in my inbox.

I wasn't going to hit delete this time. From now on, the great Best Actor Carter could find someone else to write his scripts.

Chapter 1 The AC in the Dolby Theatre was blasting on full freeze, but I didn't care. I was sitting in the very first row, tucked into the far aisle seat.

Carter had specifically arranged this spot for me. "Vada," he had told me, "tonight I'm taking home my fifth Academy Award.

I'm going to pull you into the brightest spotlight, propose to you in front of the whole world, and make you the happiest woman alive." Because of that promise, I'd dropped half a year's salary on a custom designer gown—the most expensive thing I'd ever worn in my career.

I even had a discreet camera clipped to my clutch to record the moment, and sitting heavy in my palm was the velvet box holding our custommade wedding bands.

Up on stage, the presenter tore open the goldsealed envelope. "And the Academy Award for Best Actor goes to… Carter!

Congratulations!" The applause crashed through the auditorium like a tidal wave. I watched Carter rise from his seat. He looked electric tonight.

I had personally picked out that midnightblue haute couture suit with the subtle diamond lapels; it perfectly framed that brooding, cinematic aura that made the world fall in love with him.

My fingers clamped down hard around the ring box. My pulse hammered against my ribs, a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm. Five years.

One thousand, eight hundred and twentyfive days in the trenches. Any second now, I was going to be his fiancée.

Carter took the golden statuette, stepped up to the mic, and swept his proud gaze across the sea of faces. I straightened my spine, waiting for his eyes to lock onto mine.

They didn't. His gaze swept right past my shadowy corner without a single hitch. Like I was a stranger. Then, his eyes stopped dead.

He locked onto the center of the front row, right where the lights were the brightest. Right onto Paige.

Coincidentally—or maybe not—she was wearing a trailing blue gown that perfectly colormatched his suit. My stomach plummeted into a free fall.

Back in college, Paige was his untouchable first love, the girl on the pedestal.

After graduation, he literally threw away a stable career and clawed his way into Hollywood just to breathe the same air as her.

If she hadn't married into old money, I never would have gotten within ten feet of Carter. Now, after five years, she was making her grand comeback.

And Carter hadn't breathed a single word of it to me. "I want to thank my director, the Academy, and my incredible team." Carter's deep voice snapped me back to reality. "But finally, I need to give a very special, individual thank you to someone who stood by me through my darkest days.

The most special person in my life." He dragged out the syllables. My breath hitched, trapping a frantic heartbeat right at the base of my throat.

I smoothed my damp palms over the expensive silk of my skirt, shifting my weight, ready to stand and meet the blinding spotlight. Then he spoke again.

The words hit me like a physical blow to the chest. "That person is Paige! Thank you for existing in my life.

Every time I hit rock bottom, every time I wanted to quit, you gave me the courage to fight my way back." A massive spotlight slammed down on Paige.

She slapped a manicured hand over her mouth, playing the picture of shocked, bashful innocence. Carter smiled.

It was the softest, most tender expression I had ever seen on his face. "Welcome back, my superstar." The entire auditorium erupted.

A deafening chant rolled through the crowd, threatening to blow the roof off the theater. Get together! Get together! [ Omg they belong together! ] [ The matching outfits!!

Just get married already!! ] [ Carter x Paige endgame confirmed! ] I stared at my phone screen flashing with the live feed comments, then back down at the velvet box in my hand.

The ring I spent a whole year designing. The edges of the box bit into my palm, leaving deep, white halfmoons in my skin.

A sharp, suffocating pressure seized my lungs, stealing all the oxygen from the room. Chapter 2 For five years, I built the pedestal he stood on.

I rejected offer after offer from Antoine, the legendary overseas director, locking myself in a windowless eightysquarefoot office to carve out characters that fit Carter's exact dimensions.

I once stayed awake for seventytwo hours straight, surviving on black coffee and sheer willpower, just to rewrite the emotional arc of a single crying scene so it would hit harder.

Hollywood called Carter a lucky bastard. They said he was blessed with the perfect script from day one.

They didn't know his soulstirring performances were carved out of my own flesh and blood. And now, wearing the crown I forged for him, he had erased my name. Why?

He was the one who grabbed my hand first. He was the one who told me to bury the past and build a new life with him.

He was the one who promised me a ring and a happilyeverafter tonight. My brain hit a wall, unable to process the math of it.

When Carter and his manager, Raymond, slipped away to the VIP green room during the commercial break, I bypassed the security detail and followed.

My fingers curled around the brass handle.

The voices leaked through the heavy oak door before I could push it open. "Are you out of your damn mind, Carter?" Raymond's voice was a low, tight hiss. "Three months ago, you swore you'd marry Vada the second you won that Oscar. "It took us thirty days to wrestle the studio into submission.

We had the PR rollout drafted. The proposal itinerary, the diamond—it was all greenlit and ready. "And you didn't even mention her name on that stage.

You gave the spotlight to Paige. How the hell is Vada supposed to feel about that?" Dead silence stretched across the room.

Through the crack in the door hinge, I watched Carter inhale from a cigarette.

The cherry flared red, casting harsh, indifferent shadows across his face. "Paige just finalized her divorce.

She's in a rough spot." He exhaled a thick plume of smoke. "She overthinks everything. If this comeback flops, she'll spiral. She came to me for help.

Tossing her some PR leverage is just a favor." Raymond paced, his dress shoes squeaking against the polished floor. "And what about Vada? Do you have amnesia?

Do you know what she's bled for you these past years? "She spent twelve months grinding on the Gale script. She poured everything into you!

If you freeze her out and she walks, what's your backup plan?" The green room went graveyard still. I stood in the dim corridor, the air locked in my lungs, waiting for his answer.

Waiting for a single, goddamn reason to stay. "She won't care." The cold certainty in Carter's voice sent a sheet of ice down my spine. "She loves me.

Even if I don't put a ring on her finger, she's not going anywhere. "Besides, she's not like Paige," Carter continued. "Vada has thick skin.

She'll understand." Through the gap, I watched him snatch the printed proposal itinerary from Raymond's hand. He ripped it in half. Then again.

He tossed the pieces into the wastebasket like a used napkin. "We'll talk about the engagement later.

Doing it now would steal Paige's thunder." The stark white shreds of paper glared under the harsh fluorescent lights. I stood anchored in the shadows of the hallway.

Five years of my life, suddenly reduced to a punchline. But he was right about one thing: I did have thick skin. So thick that, in this exact moment, I didn't kick the door open.

I didn't scream or demand answers. Even as a brutal burning clawed at the back of my throat, I didn't let a single tear break the surface.

Instead, I was perfectly, mechanically calm. I pulled my phone from my clutch. Blocked his number. Deleted his contact. Erased everything.

Chapter 3 Over three thousand photos vanished from the screen, one tap at a time. Five years with Carter, pixelated and purged into the trash bin.

I didn't stop until my digital footprint was scrubbed of his existence. I slipped the phone into my clutch and turned my back on the green room door.

Just as I hit the lobby doors, my phone vibrated. An international call from Antoine. "Vada, have you made a decision? I need you in the head writer's chair for Countercurrent.

It has to be you. "But you need to be on a redeye tonight.

We have an emergency script read in London tomorrow morning." For five years, I had politely declined every single one of his offers.

This time, I just said, "I'm in." By the time the valet handed me my trench coat, I had already booked a 3:00 AM firstclass ticket to Heathrow.

I texted the confirmation to Antoine. He practically screamed through the speaker. "Finally! You're actually ditching that prettyboy leech.

I'll have everything ready for your arrival. Including a proper British gentleman, if you want." A genuine laugh slipped past my lips.

Before I could reply, a hand snatched the phone from my ear. "What British gentleman?" Carter's voice dropped over me like a heavy blanket. I didn't say a word.

I just reached out and yanked my phone right back out of his grip. Carter didn't push it.

He just sighed, rubbing the top of my head like I was a stubborn pet. "Come on, are you still mad about the proposal thing?

I had a reason, Vada." He dragged me into the shadowy alcove near the exit, dropping his heavy chin onto my shoulder.

His cologne smelled like stale smoke and expensive mint. "Paige isn't just a college friend. When we were kids, she saved my—" A shrill ringtone cut him off.

The name Paige flashed across his screen in glaring white letters. He swiped to answer. His entire posture stiffened, the lazy arrogance snapping into high alert. "Okay.

Stay exactly where you are. I'm on my way." He ended the call and pressed a rushed, careless kiss to my hairline. "Some drunk idiot is harassing Paige. I have to go fix this.

Wait for me at home, and I'll explain everything." If he had bothered to look down for half a second, he would have seen the British Airways boarding pass glowing on my screen.

But he didn't. I pressed two fingers hard against my sternum, right over the dull, throbbing ache. Home. When did we ever have a home?

I pulled up an app and booked a premium moving service. Once I got my boxes out of his penthouse and into my own studio, I was gone.

I was about to lock my screen when a barrage of Twitter notifications blew up my phone. [ Breaking: New Couple Alert?

Best Actor Carter escorts Paige out of the afterparty! ] [ Trending: Caught on camera! The two share a car, looking VERY cozy. Did they kiss?! ] My thumb hovered over the glass.

I tapped the link. The paparazzi video was grainy and underlit. Carter was shielding Paige, bulldozing a path through the swarm of reporters.

She was pressed flush against his chest, her manicured fingers gripping his lapels like a lifeline.

He dipped his head, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch above her forehead. A perfect, textbook knight in shining armor.

The comment section was a fullblown warzone. [ Is this the girl he thanked on stage?! She's stunning. They look so good together! ] [ Just make it official already!

I'm screaming! ] [ Wait, what about Vada? Weren't there rumors she was his actual girlfriend? ] [ Lmao 'actual girlfriend' my ass. She's a nobody.

If Carter didn't star in her movies, she'd be working the drivethru. She's nowhere near his league. ] [ Fr. Writers are invisible for a reason. Paige is gorgeous.

Alisters belong with Alisters. ] A sharp, dry laugh scraped its way up my throat. I doubletapped every single comment, leaving a trail of bright red hearts in my wake.

Chapter 4 I was standing in the center of the living room, directing the movers to box up my life, when my phone buzzed. It was Raymond. "Vada, I just saw the trending topics.

I need to explain. Please don't misunderstand, Carter and Paige are strictly platonic!" I ignored the excuse. "Where is he?" The line went dead silent.

A dry laugh scraped my throat. "He's sitting by her hospital bed, isn't he?" Sixty seconds ago, my feed had flooded with a leaked video of Carter blowing on a spoonful of hot porridge before feeding it to Paige.

In five years, I had never once been on the receiving end of that spoon. I need a girl with grit, Vada. My schedule is a nightmare. That was his favorite line.

So, I learned to drive myself to the ER with a 103degree fever. I learned to navigate IV drips alone so I wouldn't be a burden.

But the second Paige came back, his schedule magically cleared. Raymond cleared his throat, the embarrassment radiating through the speaker. "Yes, he's with Paige.

But there's no physical contact, and there are nurses in the room—" "Save your breath, Raymond." I cut him off.

I swept my gaze over the halfempty penthouse. "Tell Carter we're done." He stammered to object. I hit end call. The movers hauled the last cardboard box out the front door.

I stood in the foyer, my eyes tracing the empty spaces. My side of the walkin closet, gutted. My mahogany writing desk, gone.

Even my chipped coffee mug from the kitchen island was packed away in bubble wrap. Four years of cohabitation. Erased in a single night.

Right before I climbed into the back of the airport cab, I dug into my leather tote. My fingers brushed the velvet box holding the platinum bands engraved with our initials.

I stared at it for exactly two seconds. Then, I tossed it straight into the gutter grate.

The automatic doors of the terminal slid open just as a random friend request popped up on my screen. I accepted. A photo instantly loaded in the chat.

A woman's left hand, sporting a massive, blinding diamond on her ring finger. Carter just bought this for me. Pretty, right? I stared at the pixels. Paige.

She really was a piece of work. I didn't type a single letter back. Blocked. But I wasn't about to swallow the disrespect.

I opened my mail app and drafted a legal notice to Raymond. Subject: Revocation of all filming rights for Gale.

As the sole copyright owner, I was unilaterally terminating every single active contract with Carter's production studio. Hit send. One second later, my phone blew up