Off Script: The Investor's Revenge

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The sheet slips. I see skin against skin.

Lenny shoves me toward the naked bodies. Sloane! Wake up! Get the boom mic in deep. We need the friction sounds.

I stumble forward with the heavy pole.

Zane catches my stare. Guilt fractures his perfect face. It screams the truth. Then he shuts it off.

Vanessa locks her ankles behind his back. She grinds him down into the mattress.

This isn't a script. It's an affair.

Zane reaches for my waist in the dark.

I slam my heel into his chest.

He tumbles off the bed. His face twists. The "Good Guy" mask shatters. "Sloane, seriously? Stop the drama. Its called acting. I made it look real because I'm a pro."

I scoff"Acting? You?"

"Youre just a viral face. Zero talent. You couldn't act your way out of a paper bag."

I lean into his ear. "And don't think the duvet covered it up. I know you were inside her."

Chapter 1

The shoot was a disaster.

Russell screamed, "Cut!" for the tenth time. He threw his script on the ground. "If I ever hire a viral star again, just shoot me."

He glared at the bed. "You two kiss like mannequins. It's painful to watch. Fix it. Now. Or get out. I'll recast you both by lunch."

Russell was a legend. He hated having Zane and Vanessa forced on him by the investors. He was looking for an excuse to fire them.

Zane slumped. His shoulders shook. He looked crushed.

I snuck over to comfort him while no one was watching. I didn't even get a word out.

Zane slapped my hand away. "Can you just give me some space?"

His voice was a low growl. "I know what you're gonna say. 'You're great, Zane. I believe in you, Zane.' Save it."

He ran a hand through his hair. Frantic. "It's useless, Sloane. Your pep talks don't fix anything. You can't help me. Just stop. I'm drowning here and you're just annoying me."

He was spiraling.

I bit my lip. I swallowed the hurt. I turned around and walked away.

Vanessa saw her opening. She slid over to him. She whispered something in his ear.

Zane recoiled. His eyes went wide. Shock.

Then he hesitated.

He looked at her. Then he looked at the camera. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He shot a quick glance at me. Guilt flashed across his face.

Then he closed his eyes. And gave a tiny, sharp nod.

"Action!"

The set was cleared. Privacy protocol. Just Lenny, the First AD, two camera operators, and me.

Under the duvet, they moved. It wasn't the stiff choreography from before. They locked eyes. Deep. Intentional. Then they kissed.

Bodies overlapped beneath the sheets. The friction was visible.

Zane let out a sound. "Ugh."

It wasn't a theatrical moan. It was guttural. Raw.

My head snapped up. I froze.

The sweat dripping from his forehead? Real. The veins popping out on his neck? Real. The rhythm of his hips? The force of the thrusts?

That wasn't blocking.

*Is he?*

*No. He wouldn't.*

But the doubt clawed at my throat. My body moved before my brain could stop it. I reached out. My fingers grazed the corner of the duvet. I had to know.

Wham.

A heavy hand shoved me hard from behind.

I stumbled forward, nearly dropping the boom pole.

Lenny hissed in my ear. "Sloane! What the hell are you doing? Get the light! Get the mic in there!"

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned back to the actors, his voice dripping with praise. "Yes! That's it! Perfect emotion! Keep that energy! We're getting this in one take!"

My brain went offline.

Static filled my ears. My vision blurred at the edges.

I felt nothing.

My hands were numb. I lifted the boom mic mechanically. I was a robot. A piece of furniture. The headphones amplified everything. Vanessa's high-pitched whimper. Zane's ragged, heavy breathing. The wet slick of skin on skin.

It blasted into my ears. High definition betrayal.

Zane opened his eyes. He saw me. He saw the mic hovering over them. He saw my dead stare.

He froze.

Panic flooded his gaze. The rhythm faltered.

Vanessa felt him pull away. She didn't let him. She arched her back. She wrapped her legs tighter. She pulled his head down to her chest.

Zane gasped. A sharp intake of air. He was back in it.

Vanessa turned her head slightly. She looked right at me, raised a brow, and smirked.

Chapter 2

"Cut!"

Russell's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie. "Great work, everyone. Clear the set immediately. Give our stars a moment to decompress. They need privacy to detach."

Lenny smirked. He exchanged a knowing look with the cameraman. A dirty little secret shared in silence. He tugged on my arm. Hard. "Let's go, Sloane. Stop staring. Haven't you seen enough?"

I was dragged away.

It took thirty minutes. That was how long they stayed behind the closed doors.

When Zane and Vanessa finally emerged, they were fully dressed. But the signs were there. Their faces were flushed. A messy, post-coital red. They walked single file, keeping a deliberate distance, but the air between them crackled.

The more they tried to look estranged, the more it looked like a cover-up.

Russell didn't help. He laughed, lighting a cigarette. "Why so shy all of a sudden? It's just a set romance. You can't fake that kind of chemistry unless you're really doing it, right?"

Vanessa turned beet red. She giggled and ran off to her trailer.

Zane looked paranoid. He scanned the room, his eyes darting left and right. Like a criminal checking for witnesses. When he didn't see me, his shoulders dropped. Relief. He put his mask back on and went to charm the director.

I stood in the shadows. Watching him.

He looked like Zane. But he wasn't the boy I knew. He was dark. Fake. Calculating. A stranger wearing my boyfriend's face.

I turned around. I found Marvin, the head of the crew.

"I quit."

I didn't wait for a response. I went back to the hotel room and started packing.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Relentless.

It was Zane.

"Where are you? Prop room? Or equipment shed?"

"Russell said I'm gonna blow up after this. This show is a hit. I can finally buy you that designer bag you wanted."

"Why aren't you replying? Are you seriously jealous? Sloane, grow up. You know the difference between fiction and reality, right?"

"Stop being a brat. I'm exhausted."

I didn't reply. I threw my clothes into the suitcase. I reached for the plushie on the headboard.

Suddenly, a heavy weight pressed against my back. Heat. And the smell of alcohol.

I flinched. Instinct took over. I tried to pull away, but Zane's arms locked around my waist. He pinned me against his chest. "Come on, Sloane. I'm sorry, okay? Don't push me away. You know I only love you. Nothing has changed."

He buried his face in my neck. He inhaled deeply. "What perfume is this? You smell so good."

The scent of him hit me. Stale booze. Sweat. And her.

My stomach lurched. Acid burned my throat. My knees buckled. It wasn't just disgust. It was a physical rejection.

I gagged. A dry, violent heave.

Zane froze. He let go of me. His face darkened. The apology vanished. "Am I that repulsive to you?"

His voice was ice cold. "I explained it. I apologized. Jesus, Sloane, I didn't kill anyone. Stop acting like a victim."

He stepped closer, looming over me. "I'll say it one last time. It was fake. It was acting."

I swallowed the bile. I wiped the corner of my mouth. I turned to face him. And I laughed.

"Acting?"

I looked him up and down. "Zane, you're a viral influencer. You're a TikTok star. Where exactly did you learn to act?"

The insult landed.

I saw it in his eyes. The insecurity. The imposter syndrome he tried so hard to hide.

I had stripped him naked.

"I work my ass off!" He shouted. Veins popped in his neck. "I fight for every role! And you? You'd be on the street without me. You don't even have a job!"

He paced the small room, manic. "You think I wanted to do that? You think I like being a set husband? I suffer for us! No one understands the pressure I'm under!"

He pointed a shaking finger at me. "I let Russell treat me like a dog so I can give you a better life. And I come home to this? To your attitude? I am sick of it!"

I picked up the plushie. I shoved it into my suitcase. I grabbed the zipper and pulled it shut with a final, sharp hiss.

"Then we're done."

Chapter 3

"What do you mean?"

Zane's eyes were bloodshot. He stared at the suitcase. Then he looked around the apartment. The shelves were bare. The bathroom counter was empty. Traces of me were gone.

His voice trembled. "Sloane are you breaking up with me?"

I looked up. I took one last, long look at him.

I was looking for the boy I loved for ten years.

I was looking for the teenager who shielded me when my dad came home drunk and violent.

I was looking for the boy who starved himself at lunch so I could eat.

I was looking for the young man who stood under the old oak tree and swore he would love me forever.

He wasn't there.

Standing in front of me was a stranger. A man who navigated the dirty waters of fame with ease. A man who sold himself for clout.

"Yes," I said. "We're done."

Zane's face twisted. His sadness instantly hardened into ego. "Fine. Leave. Go ahead. But don't come crawling back when you realize what a mistake you made. Whoever regrets this first is a loser."

Bam.

I slammed the door. That was my answer.

Eight years together. Five of them in the dark.

I had a degree. I had a future. I threw it all away to work as a PA. To fetch coffee and carry cables just to see him. Zane thought I stayed because of the money. Because his fame was growing.

He was wrong.

I was bound by the past. I was paying back a debt of love to a ghost.

But the ghost was gone.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. A text message. Pinned at the top. A blue notification dot next to his name.

*Zane.*

I didn't open it. I pressed my thumb on his name. A menu popped up.

*Delete Contact.*

My finger hovered for a second. Just one. Then I tapped it.

Gone.

I opened X. Mistake.

Zane's name was trending at number one. The production team had released the clip. The acting scene. It was everywhere.

The comments section was a war zone of hormones.

User1: "OMG. My ship has finally sailed. They are actually doing it."

User2: "Is this legal to watch? I'm eating good tonight! Even royalty doesn't get a show this good."

User3: "Zane and Vanessa are the endgame. Perfect match. They are definitely f"

My high school group chat exploded. Someone took a screenshot of the comments and posted it. Marissa tagged Zane.

User1: "@Zane Dude! You bagged Vanessa? She is literally my idol. You owe us a meal for this. This is huge."

The gossip started immediately.

User4: "Wait, isn't Zane with Sloane?"

User5: "Nah, I heard they broke up sophomore year. His agency has a strict no-dating policy."

User4: "Oh."

Then, they turned their attention to me.

Marissa: "@Sloane So, is it true? Did you guys break up? Or are you just his dirty little secret now?"

User6: "@Sloane Did he dump you for the upgrade? Is it true he's with Vanessa?"

User7: "Haha, do you regret it? You missed out on a fortune."

These girls. Back in high school, they all wanted Zane. He rejected every single one of them. He used the same line every time: "Sorry, I only like Sloane."

I became public enemy number one.

Now, I was the loser. And they were sharks smelling blood.

Marissa: "@Sloane Why aren't you talking? Do you think you're better than us?"

Marissa: "@Sloane Or is it just too embarrassing to admit you got played?"

I frowned. I opened the keyboard to type.

Suddenly, a notification popped up at the bottom of the screen.

It was Zane.

He hadn't spoken in this group since he signed his first contract.

Chapter 4

He quoted the message: "Heard they broke up sophomore year. Agency contract rules."

He replied with a single word.

"True."

The group chat detonated.

My phone vibrated so hard it nearly fell off the table. Everyone was scrambling to suck up to the superstar. The girls who had been grilling me instantly switched sides. They forgot I existed.

Zane played the aloof idol card perfectly.

Zane: "Thanks for the love, guys. Let's grab dinner sometime."

It was a polite brush-off. Hollywood speak for *leave me alone*.

But someone didn't get the memo.

Marissa: "When is 'sometime'? Let's lock it in!"

Zane went silent.

So she escalated. She tagged us both.

Marissa: "@Zane @Sloane You guys aren't still hung up on each other, right? Scared to be in the same room?"

Zane replied instantly.

Zane: "Just got off a call. Next Saturday works. You pick the place. But"

Someone jumped in, desperate to please.

User1: "We get it! No photos. No leaks. Total privacy. We won't get you in trouble."

Zane sent a "Thank You" sticker.

Once he confirmed, the group turned their sights on me. They assumed my attendance was a given. They assumed I was coming to beg.

Marissa: "@Sloane This is your chance. Dress up. Maybe if you perform well, hell take you back."

User2: "@Sloane He chased you for years. Now its your turn to do the chasing. Only fair."

User3: "@Sloane We set the stage for you. The rest is up to your performance. Right, Zane?"

A pause. Then, a notification.

Zane: "Depends on her attitude."

Followed by a GIF. A man shrugging. Whatever.

I turned off my phone.

I stared at the PowerPoint presentation on my laptop. It was a mess.

I focused on the work. I had to.

My new boss, Remington, was a legend in the industry. He was barely thirty and already on the cover of Forbes. His standards were impossibly high.

But he was human. When I told him I was drowning in data, he didn't fire me. He assigned me an assistant. Sawyer. An intern. A college senior with golden retriever energy.

The project meeting was set for next Saturday.

The location? The Sterling Hotel. Second floor.

---

Saturday.

I stepped out of the conference room. My head was spinning from three hours of budget analysis. I needed air. I needed to fix my lipstick.

I walked down the hallway. A door to a private banquet hall swung open just as I passed.

A familiar voice screamed. "Sloane! She's here!"

I froze.

Marissa lunged out, grabbing my arm. "You're late! That's a penalty. Three shots. Now."

I looked around, stunned. This was the reunion.

And sitting at the head of the table, like a king on his throne, was Zane.

He leaned back in his chair. He looked at me with a smirk that curdled my blood. It was a look of absolute triumph.

*I knew it.*

*I knew you'd come crawling back.*

*Beg me.*

I pulled my arm away from Marissa. I pushed the wine glass she was shoving in my face. "Sorry. I'm not here for the reunion. I was just passing by."

I turned to leave.

Two guys stood up. They were drunk. Their faces flushed and sweaty. They blocked the doorway.

"Come on, Sloane. Don't be a buzzkill."

"You're here now. You're not leaving until you drink. Don't disrespect Zane like that."

They crowded me. Physical intimidation.

I stepped back, my back hitting the doorframe. "Move," I warned.

"Or what?" one sneered.

Suddenly, the doors behind me burst open