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"It's possible they'd cancel," I admitted. "Or water down the script. Make it safer, less challenging. The director fought hard to keep the integration plot central, not the romance. Without me, they might cut that entirely."

"So someone doesn't want this story told." Jase looked at the others. "The question is why."

"Kit, think about everyone involved in the production." Simon pulled out a chair and sat. "Who has something to lose if this movie gets made?"

"I don't know. It's about factory integration during World War Two. Who could possibly care enough to sabotage it?"

"Someone who disagrees with the message?" Hart suggested without looking up from his computer. "Someone with a political agenda?"

"Or someone who wants the role for themselves." Roan's voice held an edge. "Hollywood's competitive. Isn't it possible another actress wanted this part badly enough to try to eliminate you?"

The idea felt absurd. Then I remembered all the auditions I'd won. All the callbacks where I'd beaten out other talented women. The whispered resentments at parties, the pointed comments about luck versus skill.

"I guess it's possible." My voice sounded small. "But to go this far? Risk federal charges for wire fraud and extortion just to get a role? I just don’t see it. I’ve been in all the other actresses' shoes; not even the worst would think that way. Nair in my shampoo? I could see that, but this? Nope, not going to happen."

"People have done worse for less," Code said.

I looked at his serious face and nodded. "I need to think about this. But the thing is, I know a lot of the women who auditioned for this role. I don’t want to think this about them." I pressed my hands to my temples. "Talk to Angelica. See if we can figure out who might have a motive."

"Good idea. She knows that people can have black hearts." Jase checked his watch. "It's almost nine. Why don't we all take a break? Regroup in a few hours with fresh eyes?"

"I'm good." Code didn't look up from his screen.

"When did you last sleep?" Simon asked.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

Code's jaw tightened. He kept typing.

Jase laughed. "He hasn't been back to my house in two days. I'm pretty sure he's living on coffee and pizza at this point."

"I said I'm fine."

"You're useless if you collapse from exhaustion." Simon stood. "Take four hours. Shower. Eat real food. Sleep if possible. That's an order."

"I’m not on the payroll yet.”

"Think like the leader of men you’ve been. You’re acting like an idiot.” Simon headed for the door. "Four hours, Code. Then you can dive back into your digital rabbit hole."

Jase followed Simon out. Roan lingered a moment, looking between Code and me.

"He's right, you know. You need rest." He directed this at Code. "And you," he looked at me, "need to stop blaming yourself for something you couldn't have prevented. Neither of you is doing anyone any good running on fumes."

Then he left too, leaving just me, Code, and Hart in the conference room.

Hart's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and smiled. "That's Roxie. I need to run home for a bit. Emergency at the vet clinic. The server went down."

"Go." Code waved him off.

"I'll be back in an hour." Hart grabbed his jacket. "Try not to solve everything without me."

The door closed behind him.

Silence settled over the room. Just the hum of computers and Code's fingers on the keyboard. I watched him work, his focus absolute, shutting out everything else. Including me.

"Code."