eavy in my mind, its ink

rths' library, an unpublished tragedy where I,

so my "perfect" siste

te my fate, helping people, hop

an Crawford' s biggest f

ed from bankruptcy with insights from

ster, the script' s "

rrative, and now, the golden child of David

. I' d tried to warn them, subtly sugg

d me overl

peed chase, ending in

ed to emerge, sm

edge of the set, a

ff a fraction too so

ms er

cratch on her cheek, her prist

as fl

seen in the chaos, ha

breath. I pressed a hand to my

All eyes were on Ch

ive mother, rushed past me

u doing so close?

ripping with Hollywo

e air, heavy and unfair.

say I was hurt, but t

, his expression a mixture of concer

? Get a medi

ing Chloe' s minor injuries with

against a lighting r

my voice weak. "I

licker of annoyance c

ke this about you. Chloe' s the one w

lute. The script' s narrative was playing

s Vance, his stoic

nd on the streets and steered tow

ope for

to the guesthouse on the old backlot. Keep her out of trouble

Forgotten. Just like the scrip

ged, the pain intensif

at me. "She' s just