Page 199 of Promise Not to Fall for the Rich & Famous

A familiar sense of pressure closed in on her, heavy from every angle. It was the exact pressure she’d attempted to ease while taking that one little pill. Andyes, Ellie had considered that she could wind up being one of the unlucky ones who had a bad reaction or got a laced drug, but even that—when compared to the mounting weight on her shoulders—hadn’t seemed all that bad. Even in recollection, it scared her. The realization that she’d sunk to such a low.

Ellie’s chin quivered as tears welled in her eyes. This sentence to the rehab clinic was sure to be a pain, but even worse, she dreaded life beyond the served time; whether she was in the program or out, Ellie was trapped. Trapped in a life she didn’t want anymore.

"Aw, come on, baby." Her dad patted her back. "Youlikeacting, remember? You used to beg me to take you to the casting calls so you could show them what you got. You’d practice your lines for days. We’d do it together, just you and me."

Ellie turned a sharp look at her dad. It was like they were looking at the same picture and seeing two entirely different things. "Yes, I wanted to be on TV, and you helped me get there, but I was eight years old, Dad.”

“I helped youwellbeyond that,” he said.

“Yes, but I don’t want it anymore. Doyouwant the same things you wanted when you were eight? Wouldyoulike to be held to the hopes and dreams you had back then for the rest of your life? Forced by some dictator dad managing your career without you in mind?"

"You were an adult when you signed your latest contract."

Ellie shook her head. "Barely, and that was six years ago. And why did you insist I sign an eight-year contract the day I turned eighteen? I was still a teenager. If you had been thinking about my best interest, you would have warned me against that. Even now, you should be helping me get out of it, not pressuring me to stay in it."

"I don't want you to have any regrets, Ell. What kind of father would I be if I let you throw your career away because you're getting bored with it?"

Bored with it?That’s all she needed to hear. Her mind whirled with possibilities, routes she could take to free herself in a different way. Perhaps with the help of this forced distance from her dad, she could start entertaining those routes.

As soon as Ellie entered the program, she'd be forced to relinquish her phone, leaving her without access to the outside world besides an occasional Zoom call if her facilitator okayed it. Perhaps Ellie could ask the facilitatornotto okay calls with Dad.

She’d begged her manager Geneva to come along, and though she’d promised to consider it, Ellie doubted the Hollywood fashionista would be willing to give up her posh lifestyle for time on some Montana ranch.

“This really is going to be the perfect place for you, Ell,” Dad said, his tone chipper once more. “Your character inHow Our Story Endsis a country girl. They’re shooting it on a Dallas cattle ranch, even. You’ll be getting right into the western spirit and in touch with your upcoming character, Melody.”

A hot streak of desperation tore through her center; Ellie had hoped to get through to Dad during the drive. To help him understand how badly she wanted out. But here they were, just miles from their destination, and he was insisting she finish out her contract.

Ellie gritted her teeth. Perhaps if she hinted at the course of action she wanted to take, he’d sing a different tune. She scrutinized the words before she said them, already knowing how they would land. This was more than mere words; it was a threat—one Dad wouldn’t dismiss so easily.

“I found a good attorney,” she said. “I haven’t met with him yet, but he specializes in cases like this. I bethecan get me out of the contract.”

Dad visibly tensed, his lax, everything’s-gonna-be-just-fine slouch transforming to stiff shoulders, rigid arms, and a barely perceptible rocking motion she recognized all too well. It was what he did when he came home after a gambling spree and had to tell Mom why they didn’t have enough money to pay the rent or even put food on the table.

“You don’t need to do that, Ell, come on.”

“Apparently, I do, because you’re not willing to help me. And you should know that this attorney will take a deep look at not only the current contract but also my prior contracts—along with how the monies were allocated.”

He was rocking faster now, teetering from the waist up, back and forth on the seat.

Yep, that got his attention. She’d known for quite some time that Dad's allocation of funds was sketchy at best and criminal at worst. But since it was never about the money for Ellie, and she had more than enough, she’d been fine to let the matter lie.

Dad had a reputation for getting into tight financial spots. She and Mom knew he relied on Ellie’s career far too often; he’d used her income to pay off his ill-gained debts. She’d never said a word. But if Dad was going to force her hand, she’d play that card. Or at least threaten to play it.

Dad huffed out a breath and turned to look out the window. He smeared his palms over his tailor-made suit pants and shook his head. "Well, you’re forcing my back to the wall now, aren't you? Looks like I'm going to have to tell you something that I didn't want to burden you with, but since it affects you as much as it does me, I think you should know."

The car came to a slow roll, and the partition window separating the front and back seats rolled down.

"We’re entering the private drop-off, Ms. Blaire. Once we pull up, I'll retrieve your luggage and get your door.”

"Thank you, Bronson," Ellie said with a nod.

"We’ll need a few extra minutes," Dad blurted. “Grab the luggage and wait by her door. Once we’re done speaking, I’ll send her out.”

Bronson, who was Ellie’s bodyguard as well as her chauffeur, looked at her.

Ellie gave him a reluctant nod.

He turned a look on her dad. "Sure thing, sir."