Chapter Thirty-Four
Julian
The walls of the dressing room felt tighter than usual.
I sat on the little leather couch, twisting the ring on my finger over and over, the metal biting into my skin from how hard I was turning it. My stomach was tight, my throat dry no matter how many sips of water I took.
First day back on set since I told Renee everything.
First day back under Victor’s eye.
I could feel him in the walls. In the shadows. Like he’d walk in at any second and tear me apart all over again.
My phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with her name.
Renee.
My heart jumped into my throat. My hands shook as I grabbed it.
“Hey,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Julian,” Renee’s voice was steady, calm, like an anchor trying to pull me back down to earth. “I wanted to call before you left. I have good news.”
I sat up straight, heart hammering.
“I went through your contract all night. And I think I found a loophole. A real one.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“A loophole...?” I whispered, like I was afraid saying it would make it disappear.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “There’s a clause about hostile work environments and breach of safety terms. If we can prove he’s physically or emotionally endangering you—this could void the contract.”
Air finally filled my lungs. For the first time in months, a tiny spark of real hope flickered in my chest.
“But Julian,” she said gently, carefully, “I need more. Real proof. Photos. Messages. Voicemails. Anything we can get. Something concrete. Can you do that?”
My fingers squeezed the phone tight. My stomach knotted. More proof.
It meant... letting someone see the bruises. Saving texts. Recording... him.
“Y-Yeah,” I said softly. “I can... I’ll get something.”
“I’ll call again soon,” Renee said, her voice full of quiet reassurance. “We’ll set up a real meeting. You, me, Miles, and my lawyer. We’re going to get you out of this. I promise.”
A lump rose in my throat.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I’m proud of you, Julian. Hang in there. Just a little longer.”
The line went dead.
I let the phone rest in my trembling hand, staring at the wall. My heart beat so hard it echoed in my ears.
Proof.
I could do that.
I had to.
For the first time... maybe I wasn’t trapped forever.
But before the hope could settle... a sharp knock rattled the dressing room door.
My blood froze.
And then I heard his voice.
“Julian. Open up.”
Victor.
The door swung open with a sharp crack.
Victor stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him—a quiet that was far more dangerous than yelling. His eyes flickered to my phone still sitting in my hand. Sharp. Suspicious.
“Who were you talking to?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
My heart skipped. I tried to swallow but my throat was dry.
“No one,” I said quickly, slipping the phone into my bag and moving to grab my things. Keep busy. Keep breathing.
Victor didn’t move. Just stood there, watching me like a wolf eyeing a trapped rabbit.
“Let me see your phone.”
My stomach dropped to the floor.
I froze. His words cut sharp and cold through the air. I felt every ounce of fear coil in my chest, rising like bile.
I turned, clutching the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. “W-What? Why?” My voice cracked. “No. I’m not giving you my phone.”
The words left my mouth before I could think. Before fear could choke them back.
And I stood there. Head up. Meeting his gaze.
The silence between us thickened like a noose.
Victor’s jaw twitched. His calm cracked.
In two fast steps he was in front of me, his hand whipping across my face so hard my vision flared white. I stumbled, gasping, blinking back tears of shock as the sting burned my cheek.
Before I could even react—his hand clamped around my throat.
Hard.
Not hard enough to crush my windpipe. But enough to squeeze. Enough to hurt. Enough to leave bruises.
I clawed instinctively at his wrist, panic surging, but he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.
“You forget your place, Julian,” he hissed. “You belong to me. Not that little actor boy of yours. You think you can lie to me? Hide from me?”
His grip tightened. I coughed, choking.
“You’re slipping. Gaining weight. Smiling more.
Eating.” He spat the word like venom. “If you don’t fix yourself before the next shoot, you can kiss every contract, every cover, every shred of this career goodbye.
No one wants damaged goods. Miles won’t want you either when you’re fat, useless, broken. ”
Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision as the pressure on my throat made my head spin.
“And you will end it with him,” Victor snarled. “Soon. Or I’ll make sure he disappears, too. You think I don’t have ways? You think he’s untouchable just because he smiles pretty? You will break it off. Or I’ll break him.”
A strangled sound ripped from my throat—half sob, half gasp for air.
Stop, stop, stop—
My mind was racing, screaming at me to fight, to claw, to run—but my body was frozen. Useless. Just like always.
Victor finally let go. I crumpled to the floor, coughing, air scraping my throat like glass.
His shadow loomed above me.
“Get your shit together, Julian. Lose that ten pounds. Cut him off. Or you’ll regret it.”
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stayed curled on the floor, shaking, my hands trembling as I clutched my burning throat. My chest heaved as the panic hit full force, crashing over me like a wave.
He’s going to hurt him. He’s going to ruin Miles because of me. I won’t let that happen.
I pulled my knees to my chest, fighting the sob crawling up my throat.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
What do I do now?
I sat on the floor of the dressing room, curled tight, my back against the cold wall. My throat ached—burning where his fingers had pressed, the bruises already starting to bloom beneath my skin. My chest still heaved, ragged and shaky as if my lungs forgot how to pull in air properly.
I can’t let him see me like this.
The vibrations of my phone buzzed against the tile. I flinched.
The screen lit up.
Miles.
No. No. No. Please, don’t call me. Not right now. I can’t hear your voice. I’ll break. I’ll ruin this.
But the phone kept ringing, soft and insistent. Like him.
With a shaking hand, I picked it up and pressed it to my ear.
“Hey, pretty boy,” Miles said, bright and warm. “I just finished on set. Thought I’d check in—see how you’re doing. Can I come over later? Bring dinner? Something sweet? I found this bakery on the way home—”
I closed my eyes.
His voice made my chest twist, made my throat tighten in something sharper than pain.
I sucked in a shaky breath. Forced myself to speak.
“N-no. Miles...” My voice cracked. My fingers clenched tightly around the phone, whitening at the knuckles. “We... we have to stop seeing each other. I’m sorry.”
Silence.
For a long, terrifying moment there was nothing. No breath. No sound.
Then quietly, carefully—“What? Julian... what are you talking about?”
Panic crept into his voice. “Julian—what happened? Are you okay? Did Victor do something? Baby, tell me—”
My lip quivered. My throat burned as fresh tears blurred my eyes.
My voice shook, barely a whisper.
“H-he didn’t do anything... I’m fine. I’m sorry, Miles. I’m so sorry.”
His voice broke through the line—desperate, pleading.
“Julian—wait—stop. What did he do? Tell me—”
But I couldn’t.
If I kept listening to him—if I let him convince me—I’d cave. I’d break. I’d tell him everything.
I couldn’t let Victor hurt him. I couldn’t.
So I hung up.
Just like that.
The line went dead in my hand.
I clutched the phone to my chest and let out a soft, broken sound. My whole body trembled as the weight of what I’d done crashed down on me.
I’m doing this for him. To protect him. He’ll hate me. But he’ll be safe.
I gulped, tasting copper and panic.
Please forgive me, Miles... please. Just stay away. Be safe. Be happy without me.
I pulled my knees to my chest again, curling in on myself as fresh tears slipped down my cheeks.
I’ll survive this. I have to.
Even if it meant breaking my own heart.
I don’t remember leaving the dressing room.
One minute I was on the floor, trying to keep myself from falling apart completely. The next, I was gripping my steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white, the city lights blurring past me as the car carried me home on muscle memory alone.
Tears burned in my eyes—hot, sharp, endless.
I ruined everything.
I could still hear Miles’s voice in my ear—confused, scared, desperate to understand.
“Julian—what happened? Are you okay?”
And I’d lied.
I’d lied to the one person who gave a damn about me.
But it was for him. All of this—this distance, this pain—it was to protect him. To keep him safe from Victor’s threats.
I could handle the bruises. The choking. The fear.
But if Victor so much as touched Miles—
A quiet, broken sound slipped from my throat. I swiped at my face, blinking hard, trying to focus as I pulled into the driveway. The moment I stepped into the house, the weight of it hit me like a brick wall. The silence pressed down—thick, suffocating. Sunny wasn’t here. Neither was Miles.
Good.
Safe.
I made my way to the bathroom on shaky legs.
The mirror stared back at me.
I stared at myself.
The bruises on my throat were already beginning to show, faint purple and sickly green shadows ghosting my skin—but the shape of Victor’s hand was there, unmistakable. Clear as day. A cruel mark of his control.
My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone.
Proof. You need proof. Renee needs proof. You have to do this.
I gulped, throat aching, heart racing.
One picture.
Then another.
And another.
I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop my gaze from tracing the outline of those ugly bruises, the raw imprint across my skin.
Look what you’ve become.
My chest clenched.
Miles would hate this. He’d hate seeing you like this. Small. Weak. Broken.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the sting behind them.
But this is the only way. You’re protecting him. He can’t get hurt. I won’t let him get hurt.
A tear slipped down my cheek as I forced myself to finish.
One more photo.
Then it was done.
I set the phone down on the counter, gripping the edges of the sink so hard I thought the porcelain might crack.
I felt hollow. Empty. Exhausted. But somewhere—buried deep under the fear, the self-hatred—was something else.
Determination.
I’d get out of this. I’d find a way. Even if it meant breaking myself a little more.
For him.
For Miles.