Chapter 233: There Was Nothing Left
Carla’s phone kept ringing.
She answered each call. Her face got worse every time. The lines around her mouth deepened. Her shoulders slumped.
"That was Simon’s office." Carla’s voice was flat. Empty. "They’re dropping you from two films."
Miranda grabbed the edge of the table. Her nails dug into the wood. "Two?"
"The ones still in pre-production. The ones that haven’t started shooting. They’re recasting both roles. They already have replacements lined up."
"I had meetings with the directors. They loved me. They said I was perfect for those parts."
"Apparently they love Noah Hart more. He made some calls. People listened."
Another call. Carla listened. Said nothing. Hung up. She didn’t even write anything down.
"Your endorsement with the activewear brand. Gone. Terminated immediately. They’re not even paying out the contract."
Miranda felt something break inside her chest. A crack. Then another. "They just signed me six months ago. I did a whole campaign for them. There were billboards."
"They’re taking down the billboards."
"That’s not fair. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t lie. I just talked to reporters."
Carla looked at her. Really looked at her. Her eyes were tired. "You called a woman a gold digger. You questioned her professional reputation. You fed stories to every outlet in the city. You hurt someone he loves. Someone who wasn’t in the industry. Someone who didn’t ask for any of this."
"That’s just how the business works. People talk. People spread rumors. It’s not personal."
Carla shook her head. "Not with him. Apparently not with him."
Miranda started crying. Not pretty tears. Ugly ones. Her nose ran. Her face got red and splotchy. She couldn’t stop. The sobs came from somewhere deep, somewhere she didn’t know existed.
"Why is he doing this? We just spread some rumors. It’s not like we hurt anyone. She’s not going to lose her job over this. She’s not going to lose her house."
Carla didn’t answer. Neither did Jenna. Richard was quiet on the speakerphone.
Jenna burst through the door an hour later. Her face was white. She was holding her phone in one hand and a tablet in the other.
"The old stories are back."
Miranda looked up. Her eyes were red. Her face was still wet. "What old stories?"
"All of them." Jenna’s voice was shaking. "The school bullying. You made that girl transfer schools in ninth grade. Her parents filed a complaint with the school board. It’s all online. Screenshots of the complaint. Emails from the principal."
"That was years ago. I was a kid. I was fourteen."
"People don’t care. They’re calling you a bully. They’re saying you’ve always been like this."
Miranda stood up. Her legs felt weak. "What else?"
"The work bullying. Three assistants quit in one year. One of them gave an interview this morning. She said you threw a phone at her head."
"I threw it at the wall. Not at her. It was the wall."
"It’s on the internet now. No one knows the difference. They’re calling you abusive."
Jenna kept going. She was scrolling through her tablet, reading headlines out loud. "The affair with the director. His wife found out. There are emails. Screenshots of text messages. He confirmed everything."
"That was consensual. He was separated from his wife. He told me they were getting a divorce."
"Doesn’t matter. You’re the other woman now. That’s all anyone will remember."
"The time you set up that actress on set so she’d get fired. Remember that? Someone leaked the group chat. The whole conversation. You telling your assistant to plant the story."
Miranda sat back down. Her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. The chair felt too big. The room felt too small.
Carla pulled up a gossip site on her laptop. The comments were brutal. Thousands of them.
"She’s always been toxic."
"No wonder Noah Hart wants nothing to do with her."
"She tried to ruin an innocent woman’s reputation."
"Cancel her."
"This is karma."
"She finally picked on the wrong person."
"Noah Hart is a king for protecting his woman."
"I hope she never works again."
Miranda put her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook.
The last call came at four in the afternoon.
The sun was already setting. Late winter. The days were short. The office was dark except for the lights on the desks.
Carla answered. Listened. Didn’t say anything. Just nodded and hung up.
She turned to Miranda. Her face was empty. Not angry. Not sad. Just empty.
"That was the agency."
Miranda looked up. Her eyes were swollen. Her makeup was ruined.
"They’re dropping you. Effective today."
Miranda stood up. Her chair scraped against the floor. "They can’t. I’m their biggest client. I’ve been with them for ten years. I made them millions."
"You were their biggest client." Carla’s voice was soft. "Now you’re toxic. No one wants to work with you. No projects. No endorsements. No magazine covers. No premieres. Nothing. They said they can’t afford to be associated with you right now."
"Right now? What does that mean?"
"It means maybe someday. But not soon."
Miranda stared at her. "What am I supposed to do?"
Carla didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer. She just sat there, looking at her hands.
Jenna stood up. Picked up her bag. Slipped her phone into her pocket.
"I’m sorry. I can’t represent you anymore. This is beyond salvaging. My other clients are calling. They’re worried about being associated with you. I have to think about them too."
She walked to the door. Paused. Looked back.
"I’m sorry, Miranda."
Then she left. Didn’t look back again.
Miranda looked at Carla. "You too?"
Carla was quiet for a long moment. She looked tired. Older than she had looked yesterday. The lines on her face seemed deeper.
"I’ll make some calls. I’ll see if anyone will still meet with you. But I can’t promise anything. The industry has a short memory, but not that short. This is going to take years to fix. If it can be fixed at all."
Miranda knew what that meant. Years. If ever. She had seen it happen to other actors. They disappeared. No one called. No one returned their emails. They just faded away.
She sat alone in Carla’s office after everyone left.
The cleaning crew came and went. The lights in the hallway turned off. The city was dark outside the window. The lights of the buildings looked cold and far away.
She thought about Noah. About the way he looked at that woman in the photos she had seen. The way his hand rested on her back. The way his face softened when she was near. She had never seen him look at anyone like that.
She thought about the way he destroyed everything she had built. One day. Less than one day. A few phone calls. A few favors. And her entire career was gone.
She thought about the phrase that kept running through her head. All because she dared to harm Noah Hart’s woman.
She closed her eyes. There was nothing left.
*
Across the city, Franz sat on the edge of Leo’s bed.
The whale was tucked between Leo and Lily. The green dinosaur from Kyle’s house was on the pillow next to Lily. She had refused to give it back. Franz had texted Julian an apology. Julian had sent back a laughing emoji.
Lily was already half asleep. Her eyes kept closing and opening, closing and opening. Leo was watching Franz with tired eyes, the whale pressed against his cheek.
Franz was reading a story. Something about a bear who lost his hat. He wasn’t reading it well. He kept stumbling over the words. But the twins didn’t care. They never cared about his reading. They just cared that he was there.
Lily’s voice was muffled against her pillow. "Uncle Franz. Is Aunt Aria coming tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow. Soon."
"How soon?"
"I don’t know. But she’ll call when she can."
Lily yawned. Her whole body stretched under the blanket. "Okay."
Leo picked up his tablet. Typed with one hand, the other still holding the whale. He turned the screen toward Franz.
TELL HER WE SAID GOODNIGHT.
Franz smiled. It was small. Tired. But real.
"I will."
He finished the story. Closed the book. Kissed Lily’s head. Her hair smelled like strawberries. Then he kissed Leo’s head. Leo leaned into it, just a little.
He turned off the light and walked to the hallway. The door was open. He could see their shapes in the dark. Two small lumps under the blankets. The whale was a darker shape between them.
He walked to his bedroom. The left side was still empty. The pillow still smelled faintly of her. He didn’t know how much longer it would last. He pressed his face into it anyway.
He didn’t check the news. He didn’t think about Miranda Kline. He didn’t care what happened to her. He didn’t care about her movies or her endorsements or her ruined reputation. He didn’t care about the calls he had made or the favors he had cashed in.
He thought about Arianne. About the delay.
He thought about the twins. About the way Lily asked when she was coming back. About the way Leo typed tell her we said goodnight.
He fell asleep with his hand on her pillow.
Three to five more days.