Chapter 34
Hannah
I’ve been checking my phone every chance I get.
The morning on set feels too quiet without him.
I’ve been filming for half an hour, and I don’t know exactly what they’re accusing him of, but every word of it is wrong.
The guilt sits heavy in my chest. The thought makes me physically ill.
But the show must go on, so I swallow it down.
Everything is exactly the same, except the obvious absence of Zac.
He’d usually be standing just off camera, ready to step in if I so much as stumble.
I miss him, and it’s only been a short time.
Dain corners me during a scene change, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses.
“Were you the one who reported him?”
“No.” My hands clench at my sides. “Absolutely not. I would never—”
“Okay.” He holds up a palm, then nods slowly. “I believe you.”
Some of the tension drains from my shoulders.
“I’ve already spoken to Mr. Peltz and the network this morning.
” He continues, glancing down at his tablet.
“There’re no other doctors or nurses available to fill in.
The hospital is already short-staffed. They can’t afford to lose another medical professional from their roster.
We’ve only got a couple of weeks left to wrap filming anyway, just the kitchen, master bedroom, and then the final reveal.
So the network agreed Karyn will help you around set. ”
I nod, my mind already moving past the schedule. “So, what does that mean for him? While he’s not working?”
“That’s between him and Peltz.” He shrugs. “Right now, you need to focus on getting through these scenes.”
He walks away, leaving me standing there with my thoughts spiraling out of control.
My life continues relatively unaffected. I’m still here, filming and getting paid, while his entire career is falling apart, and the article makes it sound like it’s my fault. Who’s even pushing for this investigation?
The timing bothers me more than anything else. Something about it doesn’t add up, and I can’t let it go.
“Line?”
I’m standing in Jessa and Kejuan’s living room set when I’ve completely blanked on my cue. Karyn mimes the words from off-camera, but I don’t understand. Shame prickles at my neck.
“Take a break,” Dain shouts from behind the camera, his frustration obvious as his hand slices through the air. “Get your head back in the game. Clearly, the article has gotten to you.”
My cheeks flush hot. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right.
I duck my head, mumbling apologies to Karyn and the crew as I scoot off set. As I make my way back to my trailer, Karyn helps me up the steps. Inside, my hands tremble as I pick up my script from the counter. But when I try to read, the words blur together.
“Everything okay?” Karyn asks gently, setting a cup of green tea in front of me.
“Have you heard from him?” Jaina perches on the arm of the chair.
“How can we help?” Mia touches my shoulder, squeezing lightly.
I slump into the chair. “I don’t know what’s going on.
But until I talk to him, I’m going to be rattled.
I just… I have to get through today.” An idea forms underneath the panic.
“And then I’m going to find out exactly who’s behind this.
Because something about that article doesn’t make sense, and I’m not just going to sit here while his career falls apart over nothing. ”
“I like that plan,” Karyn says as her dark eyes meet mine. “You can do this.”
I manage a smile, and for the first time today, it isn’t entirely forced.
“Yeah. I feel better.” Saying it out loud that I’m not just going to wait this out calms me.
“I can’t physically help him right now, but the quicker I nail these scenes, the quicker today’s over.
Then I can call him. Figure out what’s actually happening and how I can help fix it. ”
“He’s been so nice,” Mia says, tucking a strand of my hair back. “Genuinely kind. Thoughtful. And the way they’ve portrayed you both in that article is disgusting. I don’t even know how they could write something so far from the truth.”
“I’m not worried about the diva thing.” Even though the word is sitting right behind my eyes, refusing to leave. “I’m concerned about him.”
“It’s still not okay,” Jaina argues. “Portraying you like some spoiled brat when anyone who’s actually worked with you knows that’s not true.”
I nod in agreement, emotion welling up in my throat, and force myself to stand, setting down the still-full mug of tea. “I need to focus. Be professional. And then I need to figure out how to help him.”
Karyn, Mia, and Jaina exchange glances, then nod.
“We’ve got your back,” Mia says simply.
Those four words are enough to light a fire within me for the rest of the day.
Once I center myself and return to set, the remaining scenes don’t take long.
I find the rhythm again, let the character take over, pushing my own feelings into a locked box somewhere deep inside.
By early afternoon, I’m ahead of schedule.
Dain gives me an approving nod, and I feel a small flush of pride.
But then comes the interview with Lilia and Mac.
Lilia’s touching up her makeup, and Mac barely glances up from his phone.
“Some people just need to be carried around, don’t they?” Lilia says, during what she thinks is a casual moment between camera setups. But the light’s still on. Her smile is sickly sweet, all white and no warmth, her eyes cutting straight to me. “Some of us just can’t be professional.”
Mac chuckles, nodding along. “Yeah, some people just need their hand held through everything.”
My lips thin, but I force myself to remain neutral, even though I want to tell them exactly where they can shove their opinions.
I can’t stand them. They don’t even know me, not really, yet they judge me based on one crap article written by someone who’s never spent a single minute with me.
But they’ve been rude to everyone since day one. Not only me.
I make it through the interview by imagining they lose. It’s petty, but it works.
“That’s a wrap for today,” Dain calls at 5 p.m.
The moment I can, I grab my bag and let Channing help me to the car.
I spend the drive home rehearsing what I want to say to Zac. Not just whether he’s okay, but something that helps. I think about Mr. Peltz, about the timing of all this, about who would benefit from him being suspended with two weeks left.
Channing helps me inside the house and leaves once I’m settled. I don’t think about dinner. My stomach’s too twisted for food.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this. He’s dealing with enough without me adding to it. But the guilt won’t let me concentrate on the TV.
I call him and put myself out of my misery.
It rings a few times, my heart climbing with each one. I’m about to hang up—
“Hi,” he answers calmly.
“Hey. How are you holding up?”
“Pretty shitty, if I’m honest.” He exhales heavily, and I can picture him exactly—jaw tight, shoulders slumped, sitting in that too-big house. “I’ve gone from angry to sad to just hopeless. None of this makes sense.”
“So, what’s actually going on? Do you know who’s behind it?”
“Peltz has a photo. From outside your place. I was helping you up the steps. It doesn’t show anything. He’s using it as grounds for suspension. Professional ethics violation, conflict of interest, whatever language lets him push it through.”
My stomach drops. “How does he even have that?”
“I don’t know. Someone took it and got it to him. Could be a paparazzi who’s been camped near your place, could be anyone.” His voice drops. “Doesn’t really matter who took it. What matters is Peltz wanted it. He’s been looking for a reason since the day he assigned me to you.”
“This is insane. You were doing your job. You were helping me.”
“I know. He knows too, but he doesn’t care. He told me my father always said I was too arrogant for my own good. That he’d clear the review, but it would cost me the Senior Surgeon title and would mean I have to start over.”
Anger bubbles within me for him. “That’s not justice, that’s leverage. He’s punishing you for something that isn’t a real violation, just so he can control you.”
“Pretty much,” he sighs. “And the worst part is, some of it’s working. I keep hearing my father’s voice every time Peltz says it. Like I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m not just Dwight Sterling’s son, and one photograph hands him the exact ammunition to put me back in that box.”
“You’re not in that box,” I say firmly. “You’re the person who noticed I was in pain before I said a word about it.
Who pulled down my laundry detergent from the high shelf without being asked and made me tea the exact way I like it without me having to tell you twice.
You sat with me through the worst days on set and never once made me feel like a liability.
” My voice catches slightly. “You handled Yolanda with more composure than most people could manage seeing an ex on the street, without warning, in front of someone you were trying to protect. And you’ve spent this entire assignment putting my recovery and my career ahead of what it’s cost you.
” I take a breath. “That’s not Peltz’s version of you, nor your father’s. That’s just who you are.”
He goes quiet on the other end. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it. And I want to actually help. If you need a statement, if going public about how this assignment actually went would help your case, I’ll do it.
” I don’t give him a chance to talk me out of it.
“I don’t care what it does to my own press for a few days.
You’ve shown up for me every single day. Let me show up for you now.”
“Hannah—”
“I’m already doing it,” I say. “I’ll talk to my manager tomorrow. You just focus on clearing your name.”
“Okay. Thank you. You’re nothing like that article says either.
Not demanding, not difficult. You’re the kind of person who makes everyone around them feel like they matter.
The crew, the couples on set, Genevieve, Channing.
Me.” His voice drops lower. “Especially me. Don’t let any of it make you doubt that. ”
My eyes flutter closed, a knot loosening in my heart. I needed to hear that more than I realize.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “That means more than you know.”
“I should probably go eat something.”
“Same. Though I’m mostly going to demolish the rest of those cookies.” I smile even though he can’t see. “I’m going to attempt baking them myself. So next time I see you, you can taste mine and tell me exactly how badly I failed.”
“You want me to critique your baking?” There’s a hint of amusement and lightness in his voice that makes my heart squeeze. “I can absolutely do that. I’ll be brutally honest.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” There’s a long pause before I ask one thing I’ve been dying to know but too scared to ask before now. “When do you think this will actually be resolved?”
I hold my breath because the answer matters more than I want to admit.
If it drags on, if he stays suspended, stuck waiting, I have no idea what that does to him long term.
If it resolves fast, that’s good for him, but it also means there’s no more reason for him to be tangled up in my recovery.
No more excuses to talk every day. No more reason for any of this to continue once filming wraps.
“I don’t know yet. Depends on whether I fight it or take the deal he’s offering.”
My heart sinks. Either way, there’s a version of this where it resolves right around the same time filming wraps. Which means we won’t have a reason to see each other anymore.
The thought has panic tightening my chest.
“How are you managing on set without me?”
I want to say I’m not, and I can’t stop thinking about you, but I don’t think that’ll help either of us.
“I’ve got the girls and Channing helping. It’s only for a couple more weeks anyway.”
“Right,” he says quietly. “Then you’re finished.”
The unspoken words hang heavy between us.
“I should let you go.” Even if it’s the last thing I want. “Eat something. Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” he says. “And thank you. For calling and… for all of it.”
“Always.”
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Goodnight.”
I hang up and sit there for a long moment, phone still in my hand, already running through exactly what I’m willing to risk to fix this.
I’m done waiting on the sidelines.