Chapter 44
forty-four
RYAN
I throw open the door so hard it slams against the wall.
“What the fuck was that?”
Rich barely looks up from his phone. He’s sitting behind the desk like he owns the place, which I guess he does. Elena lounges in one of the leather chairs, sipping from a crystal tumbler full of what looks like whiskey. She doesn’t even blink when I storm in.
Wren didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just looked at me like I’d done exactly what she’d expected all along. That’s what gutted me the most.
“That,” Elena says coolly, “was compelling television.”
“I didn’t want to eliminate her.”
My voice comes out low and tight, but I can feel the rage building underneath. My whole body feels coiled, dangerous, like I’m seconds away from throwing a chair through the window or putting my fist through the wall.
Rich finally glances up, twirling a pen between his fingers. “Well. You did.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” The words come out sharp, bitter. “You cornered me. You set the whole thing up. She wasn’t even supposed to be in the bottom two.”
Elena’s smile doesn’t change, but her eyes go flat, like shutters slamming down. “You always have a choice. But if you’d like to discuss breach of contract…”
“Don’t,” I snap.
She raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You think this is about you? This is about her. She’s ours now too.”
Rich leans forward, folding his hands like we’re having a casual business meeting instead of me confronting them about destroying the woman I love. “You agreed to this. Every piece of it. You signed on to be the Bachelor. You signed on to play a part. You agreed to let us guide the arc.”
I start pacing in front of them, my hands clenched into fists. I feel like a caged animal, trapped and furious and looking for something to destroy.
“You didn’t guide anything,” I bite out. “You railroaded me. You ambushed her with that fake cheating footage, then told me it would be ‘bad optics’ if I kept her. And now she’s gone.”
“Not gone,” Elena says lightly, taking another sip of her drink. “Just… offscreen.”
The casual way she says it makes my vision go red. “She looked devastated.”
Rich doesn’t even flinch. He checks his watch like this conversation is keeping him from something important. “She looked great. That mascara tear down her cheek? That was gold.”
I turn slowly to face him. Something in my expression must finally register because he sits back slightly in his chair.
“You think this is funny?”
“No,” Rich replies, still cool as ice. “I think this is money. Big money. And if you want to see any of it, I suggest you sit your ass down.”
I don’t move. I keep standing there, staring him down, letting him see exactly how close I am to losing it completely.
Elena exhales, sounding annoyed for the first time. “Let’s be very clear, Ryan. If you talk to Wren off camera, if you even try to explain anything to her, you’re in violation of your contract.”
“So what?” I ask. “You’re going to sue me?”
“No,” Rich says, and now he’s smiling. Actually smiling. “We’re going to withhold your entire payout. That’s seven figures, Haart. And we’ll make sure the network lawyers have a fucking field day with your image clause. You’ll lose more than money.”
Elena adds, “We’ll also cut you from the finale. You’ll just be a guy who dumped America’s sweetheart and disappeared. We’ll tank your entire career. Sponsors. Endorsements. Gone.”
The threat hangs in the air between us. Seven figures. My entire career. Everything I’ve worked for.
But all I can think about is the look on Wren’s face when I handed that rose to JacqLyn. The way her face went completely blank, like she was shutting down to protect herself. The way she looked at me afterward, waiting for some kind of explanation that I couldn’t give her.
“She’s not America’s sweetheart to you,” I say. “You never even saw her.”
“We saw her perfectly,” Elena says. “Shy, sweet, heartbroken. That was your best moment yet.”
I take a step forward. Both of them tense slightly. Good. They should be nervous.
“You ambushed her,” I say, my voice deadly quiet. “You humiliated her. You broke her heart to make a promo reel.”
Rich shrugs like we’re talking about the weather. “This is what you’re paid for, Ryan.”
I stare at him. Just stare, breathing hard, trying to process the casual cruelty of it all. These people took something real, something beautiful, and they twisted it into entertainment. They took the woman I love and they broke her heart for ratings.
Elena stands up, slow and deliberate. She slides something across the desk toward me.
“Give us your phone.”
I don’t move.
She smiles, all teeth. “You’re not going to call her. You’re not going to sneak into her hotel. You’re not going to send a friend. We own your time, your image, and your loyalty until the finale airs. You want to fix this? Then make it count. And make it on camera.”
I look down at my phone in my hand. My lifeline to Wren. The only way I could possibly reach out to her and try to explain what just happened.
I know that once I hand it over, she’s gone. I can’t reach her, can’t explain, can’t apologize. Just silence. Just damage.
The second the cameras cut earlier, I yanked out my phone and texted three words with shaking fingers. No punctuation. No time to explain. Just a Hail Mary to the woman I’d just destroyed.
Slowly, I pull it out and set it down on the desk.
“Smart choice,” Rich says. “You’ve got one episodes left. Just get through the finale and then you’re gold. We suggest you lean in. Fake it. Cry a little. Pretend like you’re searching for love again.”
I turn to leave, but Elena’s voice stops me.
“Oh,” she adds, and there’s something in her tone that makes my chest tighten. “And we will be bringing her back for the finale. Not because you asked. Because we want to.”
I freeze. My heart starts pounding.
“She’s too valuable not to,” Elena finishes with a smirk.
I don’t say anything. Can’t say anything. Because if I open my mouth right now, I’m going to say something that gets me sued into oblivion.
Instead, I walk out of that room and head straight for my suite. The cameras try to follow me, but I slam the door in their faces.
For a moment, I just stand there in the silence, trying to process everything that just happened.
They have my phone. I signed a contract that says that they don’t have to pay me a dime if I don’t attend every single taping for the duration of the show.
They have complete control over my life for the next two weeks.
But the producers don’t have my mind. And they sure as hell don’t have my heart.
My heart is its own beast. They can’t control it or commodify it. And it belongs to Wren.
Assuming that she’ll have me in two weeks after I’ve been paid for this tv show, that is. I have to believe that she will.
I don’t punch the wall, even though every instinct is telling me to. I don’t scream or throw things or do any of the dramatic bullshit they’d probably love to film.
Instead, I sit down at the desk and pull out a notebook. One of those cheap ones they stock the rooms with for guests who want to journal about their journey .
The room feels like a set now. Pristine. Staged. Everything perfectly fake. The only real thing left in it is me and this notebook.
I start writing. Planning.
They want compelling television? I’ll give them compelling television.
They want drama? They want a moment that’ll have people talking for years?
Fine.
But it’s going to be on my terms. And it’s going to be real.
I think about Wren, probably getting to Jay’s house right now, trying to pretend that her heart isn’t in pieces. I think about how she looked at me tonight, like I was a stranger. Like everything between us had been a lie.
I need her to know it wasn’t a lie. None of it was.
The finale is in two weeks. That’s when Elena said they’re bringing her back. Two weeks to figure out how to fix this, how to make it right, how to show her and the entire world that what we have is real.
I start making lists. People I can trust. Ways to communicate without my phone. Loopholes in my contract that might give me some wiggle room.
There’s a clause about “off-screen family contact in emergencies.” Maybe there’s a way in through that door. Maybe I just need to find the right emergency.
It’s not going to be easy. These people are professionals at manipulation and control. They’ve been playing this game a lot longer than I have.
But they made one mistake. They assumed I care more about money and fame than I do about Wren.
They’re about to find out how wrong they are.
I write for an hour, filling page after page with ideas, backup plans, contingencies. By the time I’m done, it’s quite late. I have the skeleton of something that might actually work.
It’s risky. If I’m wrong about any part of it, I could lose everything. My career, my reputation, my future.
But if I’m right, if I can pull this off, then maybe I can get Wren back. Maybe I can show her that what happened tonight wasn’t my choice. That everything I told her was true.
That I love her.
I close the notebook and hide it in the bottom of my suitcase, underneath clothes I haven’t worn. Tomorrow, the cameras will be back. Tomorrow, I’ll have to pretend to be heartbroken about eliminating Wren while also pretending to be excited about the remaining women.
I’ll have to lie to everyone, including myself, for two more weeks.
But it’ll be worth it. Because at the finale, when Elena brings Wren back, I’m going to tell her everything. On camera, in front of millions of people, I’m going to tell her exactly what happened tonight and why I had to choose someone else.
And then I’m going to choose her. For real this time.
I just hope she still wants to be chosen.
I think about that text I managed to send before they took my phone. “ Wait for me .” Three words that probably didn’t make any sense to her, given what had just happened.
But I meant them. I meant them more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life.
Wait for me, Wren. I’m coming for you.
I’m going to make this right.
The sun is starting to come up outside my window, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. In a few hours, the cameras will be here. The producers will be back with their fake smiles and their manipulation.
But for now, it’s just me and my plan and the desperate hope that love is stronger than contracts and money and the twisted game these people are playing.
I think about Wren’s face when she laughs. The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. The way she says my name when we’re alone.
That’s what I’m fighting for. Not the show, not the fame, not the money.
Her.
And I’m going to win.
Even if I have to burn the whole thing down, I’m going to show her the truth. That I never stopped choosing her. Not once.
I’m desperate to show her.