Chapter 35
Wren
The room fades, edges blurring until all I can hear is the low hum of the ceiling fan and my own uneven breathing. Everyone’s quiet. I can feel their eyes on me, but it’s his gaze I feel most.
“I was twenty-three,” I say finally, my voice trembling. “Fresh out of college, future unknown, and what better way to figure it out than by living next to the beach. The Pacific Ocean, a place I dreamed about visiting.”
“I thought I’d made it,” I tell them as the backs of my eyes burn with tears.
“Selling homes to people I used to watch on TV, going to movie premieres, getting dolled up to walk the red carpet and attending photo shoots where I was the center of attention. It felt like I was waiting for someone to pinch me and wake me up from a dream. My boss used to say opportunity only knocks once, and in that moment, I believed him.”
The memory pulls me under like a riptide.
The morning I arrive in California, the air tastes like salt and sunshine. The smell of air pollution fills my nose, but I push it aside, focusing on the positives.
The world feels endless here. I step out of my rental car, the soles of my shoes clunking along the sidewalk as I stare up at the stunning building in front of me. My new job at the firm feels like proof that the universe finally decided to cut me some slack.
A doorman—yes, a doorman—holds the door open for me as I step inside the luxe entrance. With pleasantries exchanged at the receptionist’s desk, I’m handed the keys to my new apartment, which the firm provided.
For the first month, I barely breathe. Everyone in the office moves too fast, talks too loud, and smells like money.
I’ve never felt more out of place in my entire life.
Coffee is frowned upon. It’s matcha and green juice, both tasting like grass and something we feed our livestock back home.
I’m the youngest associate, dumbstruck as I listen to them talk about A-list celebrities and professional athletes as if they’re one of us.
My head spins as I watch the listings flash across my tablet and gawk at the multi-million-dollar price tags.
Each night I go home, I start to feel more settled than the night before. I’m getting my feet wet in this new world. Evenings spent sipping cheap champagne from coffee mugs as I stroll the beach and think, this is where everything changes.
And it does, but not how I expected it to.
I blink and the smell of the ocean fades. Fidgeting in my seat, I play with the hem of my skirt as I’m brought back to the present.
“When all you’re looking for is something new, something different, a way to escape the pain from your past, you miss the warning signs,” I say softly, keeping my eyes on my lap. “You keep chasing the high, trying to find your place in an unfamiliar world.”
Someone murmurs their agreement in the circle, and I risk a glance up, noticing the group leader nodding.
“You said it felt like a dream?” she asks.
“It did.” I nod, swallowing hard. “Until he showed up.”
I fight the urge to reach for Jett.
It happens in the little moments, life’s tiny candids that look too good to be true.
Attending rooftop parties and lunches at restaurants with year-long waiting lists.
I start feeling on top of the world, in a state of disbelief that this was my reality.
A girl from Small Town, USA, who grew up mucking stalls wearing cowboy boots.
Then after a year in LA, I started spending more time with Elias, my boss’s son.
Elias is the kind of man who captures a room.
His height commands attention while his dazzling smile and boyish charm keeps your eyes glued to his polished, designer suits.
The first time we shook hands, I could feel the air shift.
At five years older than me, I hung on to every word he said, especially when the praises rolled in.
He was impressed with the way I carried myself, effortlessly charming the clients, dazzling them with sales pitches until they were willing to buy anything I was selling.
“You have a natural, raw talent so many agents wish they possessed,” he said.
No one had ever told me that before—not like that.
And with the way his smile beamed and his eyes sparkled, I practically ate out of his palm.
At first, everything seemed harmless. A few calls lasting longer than they should, caffeine runs turning into lunches, and late-night meetings shifting to after-work drinks.
“You’re special,” he told me once. “Not like the others.”
I blushed because I didn’t know what to do with words like that. Taking compliments never was my strong suit.
Later, I realized that even though he presented the words as a compliment, he was staking his claim as if I were some treasured item he wanted to possess.
The first time he took me to dinner, it was at an exclusive restaurant.
One I’d only heard rumors about because I could never afford it and didn’t have a last name to get me through the door.
I wore a gorgeous sequin dress that hugged my curves as if it were made for me.
It was waiting for me at the reception desk when I arrived home from work.
When I glanced at the price tag, I nearly threw up.
I could never imagine spending that kind of money on clothes.
But the way Elias’s eyes lit up when he saw me, he made me feel wanted in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
His attention triggered something inside of me, almost as if it was permission to move on.
As we sat through dinner, sharing expensive wine, I couldn't help but feel like everyone around us knew I didn’t belong there.
But Elias’s gaze never strayed from me. I felt on top of the world.
My skin buzzed with excitement and desire from his attention.
And foolishly, I mistook his actions for love.
Later that night, we ended up at a movie premiere, one I didn’t know we were attending.
Anxiety crept over my skin like a bad dream, but Elias’s strong hand held firm on my lower back.
As the cameras flashed, his soft words whispered in my ear reassured me.
I felt safe in the moment. As my smile widened, my eyes struggled to leave his sharp-angled face.
I found myself falling deeper for this man, my boss’s son, and I couldn't find it in me to care about how wrong we were.
Not when he leaned closer, placing a chaste kiss beneath the shell of my ear, whispering, “See, I knew you belonged in this world. The camera loves you, Wren.”
And for a moment, I believed him.
When he kissed me, it felt like life was giving me a chance to feel love again.
Jett broke me in ways I never thought I’d heal from, but Elias gave me hope I could let someone else into my world and heal my broken heart.
I was desperate to find love again. To find the type of happily ever after I had always dreamed about.
“That’s how it started,” I whisper. “The dream.”
I take a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as the room comes into focus around me.
The words emerge slowly, having been locked behind a hidden vault in my mind for years. The truths I’ve never risked spilling, out of fear they’d end up in the wrong hands. That’s the problem in LA; everyone is out to expose each other for a quick buck, and I didn’t know who to trust.
“It wasn’t the move that broke me,” I tell the group. “It was everything that came after.”
The linoleum beneath my sandals blurs. The smell of bitter coffee fades, replaced by the warm fragrance of the office, bright lights, and someone yelling “rolling” in the distance.
And boom, I'm back in the spotlight.
The cameras follow me into a showing as my pulse thrums in my ears. Terry, the producer, winks at me before saying, “You’re a natural, sweetie. Keep that innocent look about you.”
I beam at his praise.
Everything in California feels amplified—smiles brighter, lies sweeter, lifestyle more glamorous.
The ocean glints outside. The heels of my green western booties click against the tile as I move deeper into the ten-million-dollar mansion I’m showing.
Pushing open the frameless panel doors, my reflection catches in the crystal-clear glass.
My hair is a brighter blonde, curled in soft waves across my shoulders.
The dress I’m wearing is soft and modest, giving the allure of my Midwest charm as the cream linen fabric flows effortlessly over my curves, which are getting slimmer by the day.
I allow myself a moment to smile at my appearance. I look happier than I have in years.
I think I’ve finally found myself again.
“I didn’t realize it back then,” I begin, voice hoarse. “While I thought I had found myself, it was the start of me becoming someone else.”
Terry tells me I’m perfect for television because I look real. Whatever that means.
“Don’t lose that,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I fight the urge to cringe beneath his touch because how dare he touch me? “Viewers love an underdog, sweetie. Midwest naivety meets the California spotlight…it’s money.”
Naivety? I’m not naive; this is a new world to me.
I force my smile bigger as I laugh louder, and I pretend I don’t notice when they cut my dialogue to make me seem less cultured.
When I glance behind the camera a few hours later, I notice him, and my smile is no longer forced.
Elias appears on set, sunglasses hooked on the collar of his button-down. The golden boy with the perfectly coiffed hair, golden skin, and tailored pants that hug his legs as if they were made for him—which I guess, they were.
“Now that’s a smile,” Terry beams from where he’s standing off set, and I feel my cheeks heat.
Elias ignores the producer as he closes the gap between us. He cradles my cheek in his palm as he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my opposite cheek.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, still surprised he’s here.