21. Millie
MILLIE
LaToya sits across from me in my living room with her laptop open and three different phones arranged on the coffee table between us.
She's been here for an hour, making calls, drafting statements, coordinating with Jeremiah's team while I sit on the couch wrapped in a blanket like someone in shock.
Which I am.
The video has been viewed fifteen million times. Fifteen million people have now watched Duncan admit that our marriage was arranged, that I'm already planning our divorce, that he fell in love with me anyway like an idiot.
His word, not mine.
LaToya closes her laptop and looks at me with the face she uses when she's about to deliver bad news I won't want to hear.
"Janie's team is behind this," she says.
I sit up straighter. "What?"
"Jeremiah's people traced the leak. The video came from someone at Duncan's party, yes, but the contract screenshots?
Those came from inside his PR firm. Someone Janie paid off to access confidential files.
" She picks up one of her phones and pulls up a thread of text messages.
"We have proof. Timestamps, wire transfers, the whole thing.
Janie orchestrated this entire smear campaign. "
The words land like a punch to the sternum. I can't breathe for a second, just sit there processing what LaToya just told me.
Janie did this. She paid someone to leak our contract, timed it with the video from Duncan's party, and designed the whole thing to destroy both our reputations right before the awards season begins.
"That fucking—" I start, but LaToya cuts me off.
"Don't finish that sentence. Not out loud, not on social media, not anywhere someone could be recording." She sets her phone down. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But if you go after Janie publicly right now, you'll look defensive and it'll only make this worse."
"Make it worse? LaToya, my entire career is imploding because she decided I was a threat. How could it possibly get worse?"
"It could get worse if you give the press a catfight narrative to run with for the next six weeks.
" She leans forward, her voice softening slightly.
"Janie is doing victory laps online right now, posting cryptic tweets about authenticity and letting her fans do the dirty work of attacking you.
If you respond, you're giving her exactly what she wants. "
I pull the blanket tighter around myself and stare at the wall above LaToya's shoulder. There's a water stain near the ceiling I keep meaning to have the landlord fix, shaped vaguely like a bird in flight.
"So what do I do? Just sit here and let her destroy me?"
"You keep your head down, do your work, and wait for this to pass.
" LaToya picks up her laptop again. "The Academy voters are going to see through this eventually.
Janie overplayed her hand. She looks desperate and vindictive, and that's not a good look when you're campaigning for the most prestigious award in the industry. "
"What about Duncan?"
LaToya hesitates for a fraction of a second. "What about him?"
"He's been trying to call me. I've been ignoring him."
"Probably smart. Until we figure out?—"
"He didn't leak this, did he?" I interrupt. "The video, the contract, none of it came from him?"
"No. Jeremiah's people verified that. Duncan was set up, same as you."
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the couch. Duncan was set up. Which means I've been ignoring his calls and texts for the past hour while he thinks I believe he betrayed me.
Which I did believe. For about thirty seconds after I saw that video, I was convinced he'd orchestrated the whole thing to save himself. Then I watched it again and saw the look on his face when he said he fell in love with me, and I knew.
He wouldn't do this. The man who defended me at that tech brunch, who brought me coffee exactly how I like it, who stood in my mother's kitchen and listened to stories about my childhood like they mattered? That man wouldn't throw me to the wolves to save his own reputation.
But I've been too afraid to answer his calls and confirm what I already know in my gut.
"Millie?" LaToya's voice pulls me back. "Are you listening?"
"What?"
"I said maybe we should just keep a low profile and wait for this to pass. Let the story die down on its own instead of trying to control it."
"My reputation is being dragged through the mud, LaToya. Every think piece being written right now is about how I manipulated the public to win an Oscar. I can't just sit here and do nothing."
"You don't have a choice. If you make a statement, if you defend yourself publicly, you're going to look guilty. And if you go after Janie?" She shakes her head. "That jeopardizes your entire Oscar campaign. The Academy doesn't reward drama. They reward grace under pressure."
"So I'm supposed to be graceful while she destroys everything I've worked for?"
"Yes. That's exactly what you're supposed to do."
I stare at her, searching for the angle, for the part where this strategy makes sense.
But all I can see is the next three months of my life: hiding in my apartment while strangers debate whether I'm a liar, watching Janie Torres smile for cameras at every pre-Oscar event, pretending everything is fine while my marriage falls apart.
My fake marriage. Which stopped being fake somewhere around the time Duncan told me he loved me and I was too scared to say it back.
"What about Duncan?" I ask again.
"What about him?"
"Do I talk to him? Do we issue a joint statement? Do we?—"
"You block him."
The words hit like ice water. "What?"
"Until we figure out how to manage this narrative, you need distance from Duncan Ellington.
No contact. No secret meetings that paparazzi could photograph.
" LaToya closes her laptop with a definitive snap.
"I know that's not what you want to hear.
But right now he's a liability, and you can't afford any more liabilities. "
"But… he's my husband."
"He's your fake husband in an arrangement that just got exposed to fifteen million people. And the longer you stay connected to him publicly, the worse this gets for both of you."
I pull out my phone and stare at the screen. Ten missed calls from Duncan. Twelve texts, the most recent one from ten minutes ago: "Please talk to me. I know you're scared but we can fix this together."
My finger hovers over the block button.
Everything LaToya is saying makes sense strategically. Distance myself from Duncan, let the story die down, focus on my work and hope the Academy voters see past the scandal.
But blocking Duncan means cutting off the one person who actually understands what I'm going through right now. The man who stood in that video and admitted he fell in love with me even though we both knew it was supposed to be temporary.
I lock my phone without blocking him. "I need to think."
LaToya sighs. "Millie, I know this is hard. But you hired me to protect your career, and right now that means making difficult choices."
"I said I need to think."
She studies my face for a long moment, then nods and starts packing up her things. Laptop, phones, the folder full of crisis management strategies she brought with her. When she's ready to leave she pauses at the door.
"You know, Millie… I think he does love you. I've been watching you two for months and that man is gone for you." She adjusts her bag on her shoulder. "But love doesn't fix this. Strategy does. And right now the strategy is distance from him before he makes things worse for you."
She leaves before I can respond.
I sit alone in my apartment with my phone in my hand and Duncan's texts lighting up the screen. The most recent one is just three words: "I miss you."
I type back: "I miss you too." Then I delete it before sending.
Instead I pull up Twitter and watch the video one more time.
Duncan standing near those windows, talking to his colleague about how I'm pulling away, how I want the clean break we agreed to.
His voice when he says he fell in love with me anyway, like admitting it out loud is the most painful thing he's ever done.
He looks devastated. Not angry, not defensive, just completely wrecked by the realization that I don't feel the same way.
Except I do. That's the part that's killing me.
I've been in love with Duncan Ellington for weeks, maybe longer, and I've been too terrified to admit it because loving him means risking everything I've built. My career, my reputation, the carefully constructed walls I spent a decade building to protect myself from exactly this kind of pain.
But those walls didn't protect me. They just made me miserable.