You Crushed My Heart, So I Crushed Your Empire

While picking out wedding rings with my celebrity fianc, a paparazzi photographer caught us from behind.

Anthony Gilbert wasn't the least bit upset. He actually smiled.

So what? Let's just go public.

Four years of keeping our relationship a secret. I thought he was finally ready to tell the world about us, and my heart soared.

But at the yacht party the very next day, in front of every camera and microphone in the room, he slid the wedding ring onto rising starlet Bianca Whitmore's finger and announced their relationship.

Watching my expression go blank, Anthony lazily blew a smoke ring.

"She just debuted. The girl needs buzz and exposure. I'm the senior here, so helping her out is the least I can do."

"Besides, can you imagine if people found out my fiance is just some assistant who fetches coffee? How embarrassing would that be for me?"

"Stop giving me attitude. I never said I wouldn't marry you. I just can't go public, that's all. You should count yourself lucky I'm keeping you around. Don't push it."

Bianca nestled into his arms, cheeks flushed pink, looking every bit the innocent girl experiencing her first crush.

The matching diamond rings on their fingers were a silent announcement of exactly how unnecessary and ridiculous I was.

I calmly pulled out my phone and canceled, on the spot, every single one of the dozen top-tier projects I'd secretly arranged for him.

"Funny coincidence. I don't like being taken advantage of either."

"So I think I'll find a fianc who isn't embarrassed by me."

The luxury suite on the yacht was dead silent.

Anthony ground out his cigarette with more force than necessary, brow creasing in displeasure.

"Vivienne Langford, say that again. I dare you."

"What does it matter whether we go public or not? We know what we are. Do you really have to be this vain?"

Even now. Even after all of this, he thought I was the vain one.

Disgust rose in my chest like bile.

"I could say it eight hundred more times and it wouldn't change a thing."

"Anthony, I quit. I'm done being your assistant, and I'm done being with you. We're over."

The air around us froze solid.

Bianca examined her freshly painted nails and let out a mocking laugh.

"Viv, why be so petty about this? In this industry, fake couples are everywhere. Sometimes the act even becomes real. It's totally normal."

"Anthony was just looking out for me because I've been struggling on my own. He only wanted to help boost my profile a little."

"But since you're so upset about it, why don't you just announce your relationship too? Here, I'll help."

Before I could get a word out, she opened a livestream on her phone.

In less than thirty seconds, fans flooded into the room by the thousands.

Bianca pouted at the camera, the picture of wounded innocence.

"Guys, you would not believe how possessive some assistants are over their own artists."

"This girl just stormed up to me, insisting that she's Anthony's real girlfriend. Honestly, it looked like she was about to hit me if I didn't agree."

"Ugh, so scary. Fine, whatever she says goes. I guess I'm the fake one then."

The moment she finished, fans from both camps flooded the comments. Every single one was aimed at me.

"LOL, everyone knows Anthony is the hottest name in the industry right now. Some glorified coffee girl thinks she can climb her way up? Delusional much?"

"No mirror at home? My girl Bianca is Anthony Gilbert's confirmed girlfriend. Some broke nobody like you actually has the nerve to show up and play the main character?"

"Lady, you better stay in your lane. Touch our girl and we'll snap those grubby little fingers right off."

I almost laughed from the sheer absurdity of it.

Bianca didn't give me a chance to speak. She shut off the livestream.

She clapped a hand over her mouth in mock surprise, eyes glittering with triumph.

"Oh no, I already told them who you are, and they still didn't believe it?"

"Viv, it seems like everyone else can see it too. You're just a gold digger trying to climb the ladder. But hey, you should own it, right? You're not going to be mad about it, are you?"

Anthony didn't so much as glance my way.

In fact, he'd just sent 520 rockets to Bianca's livestream, a public stamp of approval worth thousands.

I shoved Bianca aside and held up my phone with a cold smile.

"What a performance, Ms. Whitmore. So brave, so righteous."

"Then surely you won't mind if I post what you really look like behind the camera. Let your fans see what their precious little angel actually is: a two-faced fraud."

Bianca's expression shifted instantly. She turned to Anthony, eyes brimming with rehearsed hurt.

"Anthony, she's threatening me..."

The phone was ripped from my hand before I could react.

Anthony deleted the recording, then shoved me backward.

"Don't push your luck, Vivienne."

"She's not wrong. You're nothing but dead weight I've been feeding out of charity. The fact that I was willing to marry you at all should've had your ancestors weeping with gratitude."

"Bianca has real potential. Going public with her means shared resources, mutual growth. You? All you've ever done is fetch coffee and run errands like hired help. What else are you good for?"

"You kept pressuring me to go public, and for what? To feed that pathetic little ego of yours?"

He looked down at me, contempt etched into every line of his face.

"I don't even need to check. That post you deleted was you bragging to your friends about landing a celebrity boyfriend, wasn't it?"

"What's the matter, got a sudden attack of shame?"

"Vivienne, know when to quit. I'll buy you another ring. But if you keep making a scene, don't blame me when I call off the wedding for good."

A dull ache spread through my chest.

Four years. Four years of giving him everything I had.

And in his eyes, I was nothing more than a vain, useless hanger-on.

But Anthony was wrong.

What I'd deleted wasn't some lovesick social media post. It was a list of top-tier projects and resources, the kind people in this industry would kill for. Over a dozen of them. I'd been saving them as a gift for after we went public.

He never deserved a single one.

"Then I suppose I should thank you for not marrying me. Goodbye."

I said it without emotion, then walked out onto the deck alone, looking for a crew member who could get me a dinghy to shore.

A familiar voice cut through the wind behind me.

"Hold on."

Anthony followed me out with Bianca draped on his arm. He traced a lazy circle in the air with one finger, half-smiling.

"Don't forget, Vivienne. This entire yacht is mine tonight. Every boat, every amenity, every inch of it is for my friends and my women."

"Now that we've broken up, exactly what gives you the right to ask for a boat? Trying to freeload one last time?"

"Tell you what. A million dollars and you can rent one. Can't afford it? Swim. Oh, and don't bother reaching for my credit cards. I already had them frozen."

The night wind howled across the open water.

It tore straight through me, carving a hollow space where my heart used to be.

I had told Anthony once, years ago, about how a relative had pushed me into the ocean when I was a child. How I'd nearly drowned. How even after I learned to swim, deep water still made me shake so hard I couldn't breathe.

He'd held me then, his voice fierce with tenderness, promising he would always protect me. Swearing that as long as he was there, nothing like that would ever happen again.

Now he was using that same childhood wound as a blade, and twisting it.

Rex Lambert, Anthony's agent and the only witness to our secret relationship, shifted uncomfortably. The look on his face was something close to guilt.

"Anthony, it's the middle of winter. The shore is at least twelve miles out. She's one person. How is she supposed to swim that? What if something happens?"

"She doesn't have that kind of money. She took care of you for years. Don't take this too far."

Anthony lit a cigarette and let out a thin stream of smoke, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Too far? She should be grateful I'm not charging her for a ticket to the party."

"With her paygrade, she wouldn't even qualify to set foot on this deck. I've been too soft on her, that's the problem. Time she learned her place."

"Vivienne, don't say I'm heartless. All you have to do is apologize and promise you'll never compete with Bianca again. Then I'll forgive you."

Bianca clung to his arm, smiling sweetly. "Come on, Viv. Anthony's already giving you an out. Don't be stubborn."

"Besides, gold diggers like you only care about money. Since when do you deserve a real title? Don't go playing the saint when we all know what you really are."

Anthony pinched her cheek indulgently. Not a word of objection.

I knew what he was doing. This was how he kept me in line.

Breaking me down until I learned to take it quietly, to stay in my place as his dirty little secret. The girlfriend who would never see the light of day.

I said nothing. I calmly slipped my phone into a waterproof pouch.

Then I climbed over the railing and threw myself into the sea without a second thought.

Screams erupted behind me. Anthony's eyes went wide with shock.

I swallowed my terror and swam hard toward the shore.

But the winter ocean was brutal. The cold seeped into my bones, and the coastline was impossibly far. My limbs grew heavier with every stroke.

Then, halfway there, a small boat appeared. Two men aboard said they were volunteers cleaning up debris in the area. They hauled me out of the water and handed me a warm bowl of fish soup. Slowly, the feeling returned to my fingers.

A few minutes later, the world started to tilt.

The men's friendly expressions melted away. They closed in on me, grinning like wolves.

"So you're the little tramp who's been threatening our goddess Bianca, huh?"

"We're here to teach you a lesson. You're not bad-looking, though. Once we've had our fun, we'll toss you overboard for the fish."

My blood ran cold.

They were Bianca's obsessive fans. She'd sent them.

My phone buzzed. Anthony's name flashed on the screen.

Panic sharpened my senses. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted copper, forcing myself to stay conscious. I grabbed a fishing spear from the deck and held it in front of me. The men hesitated just long enough for me to hit answer.

His voice came through the speaker, breathless and lazy with satisfaction.

"You dead yet? If not, come back and change the sheets."

"Some paparazzi suspect Bianca and I are faking it. They've been lurking outside the window trying to get shots, so we had to make it look real."

My stomach lurched. I choked it down and begged.

"Anthony, Bianca's stalker fans drugged me. They're going to assault me!"

"I'm about two miles northeast of the yacht. Please, come get me!"

His tone shifted instantly. "What?! I'm coming right now"

Then Bianca's voice slithered through the line, dripping with mock concern.

"Oh, Viv. I have to say, you gold diggers really are something. Turning people against each other like that."

"A friend of mine just came from that direction. Not a soul in sight. You're making this up so Anthony will come running, aren't you? Trying to guilt him into going public with you?"

"Don't fall for it, babe. She probably has reporters planted nearby, just waiting for you to show up so she can force your hand."

Before I could get a word out, Anthony exploded.

"Vivienne, you're unbelievable! You want to make me a laughingstock that badly?!"

"You want to make up? Fine. Be kneeling at my front door by morning. Say you were wrong."

"Without me, you can't even hold down a real job. You'd starve in the gutter. Think about that!"

The line went dead.

Something inside me went with it.

The two men sneered.

"See that? Your precious Anthony only cares about our Bianca."

"You shameless little homewrecker. You think you can ruin our goddess's happiness? We'll kill you for that."

They ripped the spear from my hands and knocked my phone to the deck.

They shoved me down against the wet, freezing hull of the boat.

In the pit of my despair, a blinding white light cut through the darkness from somewhere in the distance.

A motorboat came tearing across the water.

"Don't you touch her!"

It wasn't Anthony.

It was a group of tourists night-fishing nearby. One of them had been messing around with a pair of binoculars and spotted what was happening to me. He rallied his friends immediately.

They hauled the two men to the nearest police station.

By the time I finished giving my statement, the sun was already up.

I thanked them and headed straight for the airport. I didn't want to spend another second in this place.

But while I was waiting for a cab, Anthony's bodyguards closed in around me.

The one in charge was Wyatt Whitney.

"Anthony's hosting a private dinner at his villa tonight for some big-shot director. He's trying to land Bianca the female lead in the guy's next film."

"He says if you want this deal to go through, you need to be there. So let's go."

My first thought was that Anthony had found out who I really was.

But one look at the contempt on Wyatt's face told me otherwise.

I frowned.

"I'm not going. Move."

Wyatt shoved me hard. My phone hit the ground and he crushed it under his heel, grinding it to pieces.

"Vivienne, you're a glorified coffee girl. Who the hell do you think you're talking to? I used to call you 'ma'am' out of respect for Anthony. Without him, you're nothing. You actually thought you were some rich man's wife?" He jerked his chin at his men. "Quit wasting my time. Take her."

When we arrived at the villa, I realized this was an extremely private affair.

No press. Every guest had to surrender their phone at the door.

The men in attendance were mostly wealthy businessmen of one stripe or another. Each had a young starlet seated beside him, all of them friends of Anthony's or Bianca's.

A bad feeling settled low in my stomach.

Anthony walked over the moment he saw me, his brow creased.

"Heard you were heading to the airport. Looking like a drowned rat, too. Where exactly did you think you were going?"

My expression stayed flat.

"Home to see my grandfather. Is that a problem?"

The corner of his mouth curled, as if he'd expected exactly this.

"Of course. The second you leave me, all you can afford is a plane ticket. Can't even buy yourself a decent change of clothes."

"Vivienne, don't say I never gave you a chance. That director's next film? I've already been offered the male lead."

He tossed a slinky evening gown into my arms.

"Put this on. Keep him happy tonight. Get Bianca the female lead. Do that, and I'll marry you tomorrow. We'll get the certificate first thing."

The meaning hit me all at once. My eyes went wide.

"Anthony, don't flatter yourself. Who wants to marry you? If you're so desperate to help her, go sell yourself. Why should I be Bianca Whitmore's stepping stone? She's not worth the dirt under my shoes."

His face went cold.

"Today is the second anniversary of the day Bianca and I met. I promised her I'd help her land that role so we could stand side by side in this industry."

"And after last night, faking your own kidnapping to smear her name, you owe her. Consider this your compensation."

He held up his phone, waving it lazily in front of me, a smile playing on his lips that carried no warmth at all.

"Vivienne, your grandfather back home has a heart condition, doesn't he?"

"If you don't cooperate, I'll leak your intimate photos across every platform on the internet. How do you think the old man will take it when he sees them? Think his heart can handle it?"

"And even if it doesn't kill him, you can't exactly afford his medical bills, can you?"

My fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms.

My parents died when I was young. My grandfather was the only family I had left.

He was getting older. His heart really was fragile. We'd been careful with him for years.

The slightest shock, the smallest provocation, could be the end.

And Anthony was shameless enough to use that against me.

I closed my eyes. My teeth ground together before the words came out.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Anthony tilted my chin up with one finger, satisfied. "Good girl. Go change into the dress." "Relax. This is a big-budget production. It's guaranteed to blow up. Once Bianca and I take home Best Actor and Best Actress, and after you've given me a child down the line, I'll consider going public with you." I swallowed the urge to slap him across the face. I walked into the restroom, expressionless. I didn't need to look to know Anthony had posted a bodyguard outside the door. But he was overthinking it. When you encountered filth, the best move wasn't to run. It was to clean it up. I pulled out the unassuming handmade pendant tucked inside my collar and pressed the hidden button. A few seconds later, Connor Henson's voice crackled through, lazy and laced with something sour. "What's going on, princess?" "Aren't you busy lowering yourself to babysit that dog of a man? And you still have time to call me?" My tone was flat. "I'm done playing." "He's handing me off to another man tonight. Trading me for his little girlfriend's resources." Half a second of silence on the other end. Then the crisp sound of glass shattering, and Connor's voice dropped to something ice-cold. "Give me the location. I'm coming to put that piece of trash in the ground."

After I changed and came out, the director they'd invited, Simon Finch, still hadn't arrived.

Anthony had someone bring me to the living room.

He had his arm around Bianca's waist, his voice dripping with indulgence. "Babe, don't worry. I already got Viv to agree to keep Director Finch company tonight."

"What I promised you, I deliver. Always."

Bianca squealed and threw her arms around him. The two of them kissed for a solid three minutes.

Catcalls and whistles erupted around them.

She turned to me, eyes glittering with contempt.

"Viv, after watching you throw yourself into the ocean yesterday, I thought you actually had some backbone."

"Turns out you still can't let go of the money. You'll even sleep with an old man for it. Tsk. Nobody's cheaper than you."

Bianca stepped closer and clicked her tongue.

"Fine, skip the makeup. But you couldn't even put on a little blush? Your face is white as a corpse. What if you scare Director Finch?"

She finished speaking, and Anthony flicked his wrist in a casual gesture.

Wyatt, the bodyguard standing behind me, understood instantly. His hand came up and cracked across my face. Twice.

Searing pain bloomed across my cheek.

Bianca tipped my chin up with one fingertip, inspecting me. "There we go. Finally some color."

"But given that little temper tantrum you threw last night, I'm not so sure you can keep Director Finch happy. Tell you what, let me test you first."

"Get on your knees and lick my shoes clean."

The room went quiet. People exchanged uneasy glances.

Even for someone who was just a lowly assistant, this was beyond degrading.

I looked at Anthony. "You have nothing to say?"

He hesitated. Bianca's lower lip jutted out in a wounded pout.

"Anthony, you said you'd help me land that role. That we were in this together. Did you forget?"

"Besides, I'm doing this for Viv's own good. She needs to learn obedience so she can take better care of you later. You can't have her throwing tantrums and making threats every time something doesn't go her way, right?"

"If you don't want me to do this, fine. I'll go on Twitter right now and post that yesterday's announcement was just a publicity stunt. That way nobody can accuse me of being a homewrecker."

Anthony rushed to comfort her, his voice soft and coaxing.

Then he turned to me, brow furrowed with irritation.

"It's just licking a shoe. It's not going to kill you. The whole reason I let you be my assistant was so you could take care of me and the people around me."

"Besides, Bianca's not wrong. That temper of yours does need training. The last thing I need is you causing problems for me down the road."

"Viv, be a good girl. Just help Bianca land that role, and I'll treat you better from now on."

My heart turned to still, dead water.

Back then, Anthony had been nothing. A nameless extra without so much as an agency to his name. Every day he'd squeeze in with hundreds of others outside the studio lots, desperate for even a few seconds of screen time. I was the one who pulled strings. Called in every favor I had. Got him signed to my family's own company, Starlight Media. I asked industry veterans to coach him under every pretense imaginable, teaching him technique and craft. Then I quietly funneled endorsements and prime roles his way, propping him up from the shadows. I never told him who I really was because I was afraid of bruising his pride.

Last summer, a single drama made him an overnight sensation. I never imagined that before he'd even found solid footing, he'd already turned his back on me.

Bianca sat in her chair, one leg crossed arrogantly over the other, her voice dripping with provocation.

"Come on, Viv. Don't just stand there. Get on your knees already."

"That mouth of yours is so talented, right? I bet you'll lick shoes even cleaner. I'm really looking forward to it."

She was getting back at me for calling her a two-faced gold digger last night.

But if I actually did this, it would be my grandfather who'd die from the humiliation.

I grabbed the glass of mulled wine still steaming on the table beside me and hurled it straight into Bianca's face.

"So sorry. The Langfords kneel for family, kneel for elders, kneel before God. We don't kneel for trash."

"As for licking your shoes, forget it. But disinfecting that nauseating face of yours? That I can do."

Bianca shrieked and collapsed into Anthony's arms.

"It burns! This dress and makeup were custom-made to impress Director Finch, and this bitch ruined everything!"

"Anthony, she's just jealous that you treat me well! You have to make her pay!"

Anthony was livid. He kicked me square in the stomach.

"Vivienne, you ungrateful wretch!"

"If I didn't still need that face of yours at night, I'd slash it to ribbons!"

"You think you're so proud? Get over here. I want her on the floor like a dog, licking up every drop of that wine until Bianca is satisfied!"

I doubled over, clutching my stomach, before I could even straighten up. Wyatt grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me forward. No matter how hard he pressed down on my shoulders, I locked my hands around the edge of the table and refused to bend my knees.

Anthony's expression twisted with impatience.

"Are your legs just for show? Kick her!"

Wyatt's eyes went cold. He drove his foot into the back of my knee.

I was about to go down.

Then a foot shot out from the side. A custom leather shoe, steady and sure, caught my knee before it hit the floor.

I looked up and met Connor Henson's face. The kind of face sculptors dreamed about and never finished.

His hands were still in his pockets, the corner of his mouth barely lifted. His eyes were as cold as his voice.

"Who's got the nerve to make a princess kneel?"