Shattered Star: Stealing My Empire

My stepdaughter and my exhusband conspired and murdered me. I bled to raise Kyla, molding her into an Alist superstar.

But she torched her career at its peak and hooked up with my exhusband, Gideon. Now, I breathe again. I wake up on the exact day she drops her retirement bombshell.

This time,I cut the cord. I hand her total freedom. Yet she kneels on the floor, chokes on her tears, and begs me to play her mother again. Chapter 1 My eyes locked onto the screen.

The date. The headline. I breathed in the sharp, sterile air. I was back. Back to the exact day my stepdaughter, Kyla, torched her career.

She bypassed a simple retirement announcement and dropped a nuclear bomb. A photo of her tangled up with a man, officially hardlaunching their relationship. The man? Gideon.

My exhusband. A man holding a solid fifteenyear age gap over Kyla. This time, the shock didn't hit. My pulse stayed steady. I already knew how this would play out.

These two had conspired together and murdered me. I pressed my lips into a thin line. My fingers flew across the keyboard, logging into Apex Entertainment's official account.

I typed out the press release myself. "Effective immediately, Kyla's contract with Apex Entertainment is terminated. She no longer holds any affiliation with this agency.

And for the record—our doors remain open to new talent. Alist resources await." Nobody could deny the truth. I built her empire.

She possessed the raw talent and the striking looks from a young age. Everyone pegged her for Hollywood. Kyla chased that ultimate dream.

To make that dream a reality, to bridge the gap and finally earn my title as her stepmother, I bled for her. Over a decade, I took less than three months off combined.

Years later, at twentyone, she swept the reality show finale. She won by a landslide, showered in flowers and standing ovations. She omitted me from her acceptance speech.

I didn't care. I stood backstage, choking back tears of genuine joy. I never saw the blindside coming.

The second she stepped off that stage, the first person she ran to hug wasn't me. It was Gideon. They hooked up behind my back the entire time.

The memory ripped through my chest, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. A cold, hollow ache gripped my ribs. This second chance shattered the delusion. I never reached Kyla's heart.

The girl I raised as my own flesh and blood for ten years shoved a knife in my back without a second thought. So now? I sat in the boardroom, stonefaced.

The shareholders and agents panicked around me, begging me to reconsider. "Cordelia, think about this!" one agent pleaded. "Kyla brings in the cash!

Cutting her loose tanks our revenue!" "Cordelia, we all know the family dynamic," a board member chimed in. "Settle this feud behind closed doors.

Don't go nuclear." A harsh scoff scraped my throat. She threw her own career away. Yet I played the villain?

My expression remained deadpan. "You all know I don't mix business with personal vendettas. As for Kyla's status, I'm only going to say this once. Apex doesn't harbor trash.

If any of you want to coddle Kyla, clear out your desks and start your own agency." I slammed the file shut, spun on my heel, and marched out of the room.

The frantic whispers bled through the frosted glass. But ultimately, they surrendered to reality. Kyla was gone.

Barely ten minutes passed before the timeline completely erupted. #KylaForcedOut #ToxicStepmother In my last life, this exact smear campaign triggered a monthlong witch hunt.

Kyla left zero survivors. She dropped a massive trauma dump on her burner account.

She spun a wild narrative, accusing me of driving her biological mother away, followed by a decade of relentless abuse. The cherry on top?

She claimed her sudden retirement served as her only escape from me forcing her onto the casting couch. Society loves the evil stepmother trope. Kyla weaponized it perfectly.

She painted a giant red flag on my back, and the internet swallowed the gaslighting whole. I took the fall. But the actual truth?

Chapter 2 When I met her father, Graham, his divorce was already two years in the rearview mirror. Kyla was fifteen. Skin and bones.

One look at her hollowedout cheeks, and my chest physically ached. How could I ever lay a hand on her? I'd never been a mother, but I spoiled her like my own flesh and blood.

Within months, she put on healthy weight. The life returned to her eyes.

She crawled out of the dark and started clinging to me. "Cordelia, can you stay?" she had whispered. "Cordelia… will you be my mom?" God.

Hearing those words felt like a defibrillator to the heart. Kyla accepted me. The late nights, the endless patience—it all meant something.

Because of that one question, I took her Hollywood dream and made it my absolute mission. And look where that devotion got me today.

I have handed her the world on a silver platter—the penthouses, the designer closets, the bulletproof career, and millions of adoring fans. And in return?

She bit the hand that fed her, hard. In my past life, I actually believed someone manipulated her.

I stayed silent, kept the PR clean, and cornered her privately to talk sense into her. It backfired. The paparazzi conveniently caught our private conversation on camera.

The tabloids spun it into a brand new headline: Apex CEO Threatens Kyla. Sitting at my desk, I dragged in a deep, oxygenstarved breath.

My phone screen practically vibrated with endless 99+ notifications across every social app. Vultures waiting for the punchline.

They wanted to see me break, but I refused to give them the satisfaction. I ignored them all. Instead, I searched through my contacts from memory. I found her. Elodie, Journalist.

I tapped her name. A new message sat waiting for me. "Cordelia, would you be open to an interview? The public needs your side of the story.

I believe they're entirely misjudging you." My fingers flew over the screen without a second of hesitation. "I'm in." Elodie wasn't some Alist reporter. She was a total rookie.

Two months on the job, working for a media outlet I'd never even heard of.

But in my previous life, right before I died, this total nobody dropped a bombshell interview that broke the internet. Her reply popped up instantly. "Thank you, Cordelia!

I'll be there at 3 PM sharp. I won't let you down!" I let out a dark, cynical laugh. Kyla—I'm not falling for your trap this time. Her hatred wasn't just toxic. It was lethal.

But she wanted to play with her food first. She wanted to watch me bleed out slowly. Step one: assassinate my character.

At exactly 2 PM, my screen lit up with a burner text. "Without me, Apex is dead in the water, Cordelia. And so are you." A threat. My pulse didn't even spike.

I deleted the text and permanently blocked the number. I flipped open my laptop. My inbox stared back at me with thousands of unread emails.

Surprise flared in my chest, instantly replaced by cold clarity. Portfolios. Headshots. Resumes from hundreds of fresh faces. Look at that, Kyla. Apex isn't dead.

The world keeps spinning without you. I spent the next hour clicking through dozens of attachments, staring at these brighteyed, ambitious rookies.

My mind forcefully dragged Kyla's old image to the surface. She used to look exactly like them. Freshfaced. Those wide, innocent eyes that reeled me in. I loved her so fiercely.

I honestly thought hitting the jackpot meant having Kyla as a daughter. She weaponized that exact innocent face.

She used it to slide into bed with my exhusband, Gideon, behind my back. All to build up the ultimate betrayal, just waiting for the perfect moment to shatter me.

Chapter 3 I squeezed my eyes shut and snapped my laptop closed. Downstairs, Elodie waited in the lobby. She stood there in a simple denim skirt, her eyes wide and perceptive.

The breath caught in my throat. Looking at her was like staring into a mirror twenty years ago. The hourlong interview flew by.

She possessed a razorsharp logic, holding the public's perspective without letting the toxic mob mentality dictate her questions.

She broke the ice instantly. "You have a really kind face," she had said, offering a warm smile. I actually laughed. The tension dissolved. I played it smart.

I kept Kyla's darkest secrets buried for now, focusing purely on my own damage control.

I looked straight into the camera. "Yes, I am the CEO of Apex, but I am also Kyla's stepmother. The abuse allegations circulating online are fabricated.

Receipts and evidence are coming to my personal accounts soon.

And for the record, I didn't push her out of the industry." I paused, letting the silence stretch. "Gideon, the head of New Era Media, orchestrated her retirement." I left it at that.

Elodie moved like lightning. By 5:00 PM, the interview hijacked the trending page. Kyla and Gideon sat sidebyside. Completely uncharted territory.

Nobody knew who he was until I dropped his name. The comments flooded the internet in realtime. "Wait, the guy in Kyla's photo runs New Era?" "I googled him.

He's an exphotographer who just bought New Era shares this year." "So Cordelia got framed?

Gideon is just trying to poach Kyla for his own company?" The timeline spiraled into chaos. But someone else was sweating under the spotlight. Right on cue, my screen flashed.

Gideon. I answered, and he immediately exploded. "We've been divorced for years, Cordelia!

Are you seriously jealous of your own daughter?" His voice dripped with fake selfrighteousness. "Why drag me into this mess? Kyla already quit the industry.

Why are you backing her into a corner?" "I'm backing her into a corner?" A harsh, incredulous laugh ripped from my chest. "Sweet mother of delusion, are you actually hearing yourself right now?

Who was the one twisting the truth and launching the smear campaign against me in the first place?

You two really are a match made in hell." I didn't care if he was trying to play the creepy middleaged white knight or just desperately trying to trigger me.

The kid gloves were off. "Torching her career was her choice.

Being garbage was a joint effort," I fired back, my voice dangerously calm. "I don't give a damn about your creepy agegap romance. Just keep it out of my sight.

It makes me sick." I leaned into the mic. "Oh, and considering the family tree now? You should probably call me Mom. Son." A sharp click echoed through the speaker. He hung up.

In my last life, Gideon never planned to kill me. Not at first. But right at the end, Kyla whispered something in his ear. Something that flipped a switch.

He looked at me with pure murder in his eyes. His obsession with her ran deep. Fine. I would give them enough rope to hang themselves. The bitter irony tasted like ash.

Just twentyfour hours ago, the day before her explosive announcement, I stood in the kitchen cooking her absolute favorites. "Honey, I made the truffled mac and cheese and garlic butter steak you love.

Please come home. I have amazing news for you," I had texted her. That message still sat on delivered. Left on read. Well, she missed out.

I guess I wouldn't be sharing that good news after all. Chapter 4 My phone buzzed. Another burner account. "You're pathetic, Cordelia. You're just jealous, aren't you?

I'm going to make you watch the man you supposedly loved burn the world down for me." I stared at the screen, speechless.

What kind of cringey, toxic billionaire romance novels was she reading? Burn the world down? Is this seriously how I raised her? My mind flashed back to her teenage years.

She almost ran off with some bleachedblonde high school dropout. I caught them sneaking around, with condoms stuffed in his pockets.

That was the one and only time I ever screamed at her. It was the exact moment I started micromanaging her circle. I felt a pang of regret.

Maybe I should have just let her ruin her own life back then. Now? I got a reset. She was a grown woman making her own choices.

I guess that meant I didn't need to warn her about Gideon's explosive temper. Or the fact that his fists used to leave deep, purple bruises all over my ribs.

I shook my head and flipped my phone face down. My gaze landed on the girl sitting nervously across my desk. Elodie. This time, I reached out to her first.

She looked like a cornered deer.

The second I set my phone down, the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Cordelia, did I mess up the interview?" A small, genuine smile broke through my icy facade. "Not at all." "Then… why did you call me in?" she stammered.

I let the silence stretch for a beat. "I want you to act." Elodie's jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, but the words completely died in her throat.

I knew Hollywood wasn't everyone's dream. But I saw the raw, undeniable potential radiating off her. I wanted to build her from the ground up.

I didn't expect her eyes to instantly glass over with tears. A second later, the dark truth spilled out. Acting was her original endgame.

But her very first gig threw her directly into the path of a predatory director. She barely escaped the casting couch.

The trauma forced her to abandon her dream, hiding behind a camera as a nobody journalist just to survive in the industry. The universe really played sick jokes.

Someone who squandered Alist scripts and her own privilege effortlessly snagged the peak of Hollywood.

Meanwhile, a girl with pure passion and genuine talent got chewed up and spit out. I stared at Elodie, but my mind drifted back a decade.

I remembered the silent vow I made the day I dropped Kyla off at her first audition. "I will burn myself to the ground to build her an empire.

I will protect her innocence from every monster in this town." That vow dictated my entire existence. I personally buried every single one of Kyla's scandals.

When she wanted to pivot to serious roles, I hunted down the top directors. I drank myself under the table with slimy executives just to secure her screen time.

I did it all because I loved her. I didn't give birth to her, but she made me a mother. Bloodline didn't matter to me. I honestly believed pure devotion would earn her love.

But Kyla just used me as a stepping stone. I raised a viper. She watched me die, and still never once called me Mom.

Elodie's trembling voice snapped me back to reality. "Cordelia… are you serious?" Her eyes searched mine desperately. "Can I really sign with Apex?" I gave her a sharp, definitive nod.

I slid a thick manila folder across the mahogany desk. It wasn't just a standard agency contract. It was an ironclad guarantee for an Alist television lead.

Elodie skimmed the pages. Her hands shook violently. This was the exact contract I had waiting for Kyla just a few days ago.

The ultimate golden ticket to rebrand her from a basic romcom sweetheart into a gritty, awardwinning lead. She threw it in the trash.

Chapter 5 Kyla's pristine public image was a total fabrication. Apex manufactured every single post, every carefully curated interaction.

Behind closed doors, she was icecold. "They're suffocating," she used to complain, rolling her eyes. "Always trying to control my life." So, my PR team spoonfed her the captions.

She just clicked 'post'. I knew it was a ticking time bomb. You can't fake a parasocial relationship forever. Eventually, she snapped.

She went rogue and absolutely flamed a massive fan account in her comments—a fan who had casually dropped millions of dollars on her merch and billboards. The backlash was instant.

Panic set in. Terrified of losing her cash cow, Kyla collapsed in my office, sobbing hysterically and begging me to fix it. I swallowed my exhaustion.

I sat her down and taught her how to play the game. I showed her how to take the right selfies, how to craft the sweettalk, and how to build a loyal fanbase.

Her followers turned into a fiercely loyal cult. And now? That same cult weaponized their devotion against me. My DMs morphed into a toxic wasteland across every platform.

Someone doxxed my personal number. Death threats and vile insults flooded my voicemail nonstop. I didn't have the patience for this garbage.

I popped the SIM card out, snapped it in half, and grabbed a burner phone for work. That same afternoon, Apex dropped a nuclear bomb on the timeline.

A single, lethal PR statement. "Apex Entertainment proudly announces Elodie as the lead in The Abyss." Kyla's fan base lost their minds. "That was Kyla's role!

Apex is dead!" "Cordelia, burn in hell!" A user named @NoCilantro typed: "Elodie is dead meat…" Elodie leaned over my shoulder, staring at the glowing screen.

She blinked. "I'm pretty sure my pulse is fine." I snorted. They could drag me and the agency all day long. But targeting my new talent? That crossed a hard line.

I grabbed my desk phone and dialed legal. "@NoCilantro, @DonutLover, @KylasHusband… pull the top thirty accounts in the replies. Cease and desist.

Now." One hour later. @NoCilantro posted a public apology: "Elodie, I am so sorry. I messed up." Elodie spun her chair around, flashing me a massive thumbsup. I smirked.

Did they honestly think I spent ten years as a CEO doing nothing? Somewhere in the city, though, a certain someone lost her grip.

My screen lit up with an unsaved number. "I knew you were a fake, twofaced bitch! How dare you give The Abyss to some nobody? Watch your back!

I will never forgive you!" I rolled my eyes. Pure, impotent rage. I left her on read and let her marinate in it. Hours dragged by. Another text popped up. "Left on read?

Are you even my mom?" I laughed so hard I almost split my lip. Did she actually regret it? Not a chance in hell. My chest suddenly tightened. The air thinned.

I remembered the exact playbook from my last life. The precise sequence of my execution.

First came the cold war, a series of mind games that fractured my focus and tanked Apex's stock.

That was followed by her tearful apology—the ultimate trap where she poured the drinks, and I naively swallowed the poison.

She physically dragged my deadweight body out of that private room and shoved me into the backseat of a balding executive's car. My stomach violently churned.

I remembered waking up. The freezing air conditioning hitting bare skin. Naked. Exposed. Shivering violently on unfamiliar hotel sheets.

A scream lodged like shattered glass in my throat. It was too late to cry. Gideon followed Kyla's orders perfectly.

He planted the paparazzi right outside the lobby doors, waiting like vultures. One step out of that room. That was all it took.

A lifetime of dignity, eradicated by blinding camera flashes. Chapter 6 According to the original timeline, Kyla's retirement pityplay was supposed to derail my life.

I was supposed to tank my own empire obsessing over her. Add in the fact that Elodie just snatched her guaranteed Alist resources? Kyla definitely couldn't swallow that pill.

She reached straight for the emotional manipulation card. Of course, she knew my blind spot. I always caved when it came to her.

That was exactly why she managed to kill me last time. But not today. I arched an eyebrow, my thumbs flying over the screen. "Kyla, of course I'm still your mom.

If you just change your mind, those roles are still yours! We're actually meeting the director at the Washington Hotel tonight." She swallowed the bait whole.

Believing she had me firmly wrapped around her finger, her arrogance flared. "Meeting a director? Text me the address. I'll go myself." I sent her the pin.

Kyla followed up instantly. "Oh, remember Director Calvin? He wants to discuss a project with me. I'm skipping it today, so you go cover for me.

Make sure you dress sexy." I typed a flawless, obedient agreement. But the truth? There was no casting meeting today.

The vultures waiting at the Washington Hotel weren't Hollywood executives either. They were the hit squad of paparazzi Gideon hired to destroy me.

Tonight was Elodie's official debut press conference. 7:00 PM. A sleek, stretched Lincoln glided to a stop outside the Washington Hotel.

The paparazzi, tipped off and bloodthirsty, swarmed the curb. They fully expected to catch me stumbling out of the lobby with some balding, middleaged executive.

The heavy car door swung open. A pair of stilettos hit the pavement. Elodie stepped directly into the blinding flashbulbs, draped in a custom white swanfeather gown.

I stepped out right behind her, looking equally immaculate. Inside the venue, the red carpet and press seating were flawlessly arranged.

But trapped inside a white sedan that had just pulled up nearby, Kyla's face twisted in shock and rage. Camera shutters fired like machine guns.

The press fought tooth and nail for the frontpage shot. Elodie was an absolute vision tonight. She had the height of a supermodel.

Under the studio lighting, her pure, innocent features transformed into something fiercely captivating.

The gown hugging her frame was a milliondollar masterpiece I commissioned overseas a month ago. This was its very first public appearance. Originally, that dress belonged to Kyla.

Not anymore. Beyond the blinding spotlights, I caught a glimpse of Kyla's white sedan struggling desperately to reverse out of the mob.

Elodie's debut instantly dominated the internet, hijacking five separate trending hashtags. Internet sleuths dug up her elite conservatory background.

Grainy videos of a teenage Elodie sweating in dance studios went massively viral. My instincts were dead on. Her face, her raw aura—she was literally tailormade to lead The Abyss.

This epic historical drama was Apex's threeyear crown jewel. The official page held millions of followers without dropping a single teaser.

The entire industry held its breath, waiting for the casting drop. I didn't forget Kyla's rabid fanbase, of course. Her cult had already claimed the role.

They delusionally believed their idol was the undisputed lead.

Elodie's manager was sweating bullets. "Cordelia, are we really pushing the character posters?" he stammered, his face pale. "I swear Kyla's stans are going to skin us alive tonight." Elodie physically trembled beside him, entirely unaccustomed to the ruthless Hollywood crossfire.

Her official casting posters were finalized, hovering just one click away from a global launch. Fear? I didn't know the word anymore.

I wasn't about to let my new star become target practice for a bunch of brainwashed stans. So, eagleeyed users suddenly noticed something bizarre.

Right in the middle of Elodie's triumphant trending tags, a highly toxic, deeply inappropriate name quietly clawed its way up the charts.

Chapter 7 #KylaStreetBrawl #KylaAndGideonHardLaunch The balding executive waited in that hotel suite for hours. When I never showed, his patience snapped.

Pissed off and thoroughly drunk, he tracked Kyla down, demanding an explanation. Last night, on a dimly lit street, the drunk creep physically cornered her.

The paparazzi, lurking in the shadows, caught the entire violent struggle on camera. But the lens captured something far more explosive.

Trapped and panicking, Kyla dialed the one person she trusted. Gideon. The leaked footage showed Gideon sprinting into the frame.

He grabbed the older man by the collar and shoved him back, shielding Kyla. A heartbeat later, the distance between them vanished.

Gideon's heavy hands clamped onto her waist, his fingers digging into the fabric. He didn't just kiss her; he devoured her, their passionate embrace completely captured on camera.

Kyla's knees practically buckled. She melted into his heat, her hands frantically tangling in his shirt, surrendering to the absolute obsession radiating between them.

Just twentyfour hours ago, Kyla had posted that cryptic photo with the caption: "Daddy came to take me home." The massive fifteenyear age gap acted as the perfect camouflage.

The timeline assumed Gideon was just a wealthy industry mentor