“Yes, we’ve decided to coparent her.” A moment later, Easton mutters, “No more questions about my niece, or this interview ends right now.”
“I apologize, Easton.” A few seconds pass, then he asks, “Are you working on any movies your fans can look forward to?”
“Not at the moment.”
“I think we got everything,” the reporter says, not sounding very happy. “Thank you for your time, Easton.”
I listen to everyone moving around downstairs, and just as I’m about to head to Lainey’s bedroom to check on the girls, I hear Sylvia say, “I get that you’re going through a hard time, but you could’ve smiled more.”
“Next time you arrange an interview, make it clear that I won’t tolerate questions about Lainey,” he snaps angrily. “She’s off-limits!”
Instinctively, my body tenses.
Sylvia’s voice is much more demure when she replies, “I understand. At least it’s over and done with.” I hear papers rustle, then she says, “I’ve made an appointment with Regina Davis for Nova on Thursday morning at nine. And here are the scripts. Please look at them.”
“Okay.”
“There’s also a Dior ad for you to consider. It’s shirtless.”
Easton makes a noncommittal sound, and I don’t hear anything else for a while.
I slowly creep down the stairs, and when I see him standing by the island looking at a stack of papers that’s piled on the marble top, I quickly glance at the living room and foyer.
“Can I come down?” I ask, my tone filled with caution.
His head snaps in my direction. “Yes.”
Keeping my distance, I ask, “Are you okay?”
He nods, then lets out an annoyed huff. “I hate interviews.”
My need to soothe him beats the apprehension I feel because of his anger, and I slowly move closer until I’m able to place my hand on his back. “I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this.”
He opens one of the scripts and looks at the sticky note that’s stuck to the page.
Kate Phillips has been cast in the lead role.
“Fuck no,” he snaps, anger tightening his voice once more.
My body jerks, and I quickly pull away from him.
Easton grabs the script and furiously throws the pile of papers into the trash, making me wrap my arms around myself, my head ducking low.
A fine layer of sweat beads over my skin, and fear floods my veins. My breaths burst over my lips, and they’re so loud it’s all I can hear while my vision blurs.
Every muscle in my body locks up, and my feet refuse to move.
“You expect me to eat this shit?” Trent shouts as he throws the grilled cheese sandwiches in the trash. “You fucking lazy bitch! Is it that hard to make a decent plate of food?”
It’s all I could afford to buy with the last money I had.
I don’t bother defending myself and keep my lips pressed together while staring down at the floor.
“You’re fucking pathetic!” Trent’s fist connects with my cheek, sending me falling to my side. Before I can catch my bearings, his foot connects with my stomach, and all I can do is gag through the intense pain. “You will make a decent dinner!” he roars before kicking me again.
A soothing voice breaks through the panic, and I desperately latch onto it.
“No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe. Christ, Nova! I’m so fucking sorry.”
