Chapter 4

Indie Rose barely had time to react before Rowan grabbed her arm and yanked her out of Kaelyn’s embrace, his grip firm and unyielding. Slap! The sharp crack echoed across the film set. Her head snapped to the side, pain stinging her cheek. The force of it made her stumble, and before she could catch herself, she crashed straight into his chest. She gasped, eyes wide with shock. "What the hell?!" she demanded, struggling to break free from his hold. Rowan’s gaze was ice-cold as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "That was for the slap you gave Kaelyn," he said smoothly, his voice laced with quiet menace. "You hit her out of spite. She hit you because you didn’t know how to play your role properly." Ha. So that was how he saw her? Indie’s fingers curled into fists. "I’m not as violent as you think," she bit out. "She deliberately screwed up the scene multiple times just to target me. It wasn’t about my acting. She just doesn’t like me." Without hesitation, she grabbed the script from the director’s chair and threw it at Rowan’s chest. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Holy shit. No one—no one—had ever dared to treat Rowan Gallagher like this. Not unless they had a death wish. Kaelyn smirked, clearly enjoying the show, waiting for Indie to be put in her place. Rowan caught the script midair with one hand, his fingers tightening around it until his knuckles cracked. His gaze darkened. He took a slow step forward, then another. Indie barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around her wrist. "You’re playing with fire, Indie Rose," he murmured. His grip was firm, but not painful—just enough to remind her exactly who was in control. "I wonder… are you hoping I’ll throw you back to those men?" A chill crawled down her spine. No. She knew that look in his eyes—dangerous, calculating. He wasn’t bluffing. "Apologize to her," he ordered, his voice as sharp as a blade. She held her ground, refusing to budge. Kaelyn stepped forward, resting a delicate hand on Rowan’s arm, her lips curling into a sweet, helpless pout. "Rowan, look at her," she whined softly. "She has no manners at all. She’s completely unfit for acting." The director immediately jumped in, eager to please. "Yes, yes! Miss Russell is absolutely right. This girl doesn’t belong in the industry. She can’t even handle a simple scene!" Indie scoffed under her breath. "Fawning over the powerful while bullying the weak." Her voice was low, but every single person on set heard her. The director’s face turned red. "What did you just say?!" he sputtered. "Are you calling me Miss Russell’s dog?!" Kaelyn giggled, clinging tighter to Rowan. "Rowan, I don’t like her." He reached out and ran his fingers gently through Kaelyn’s hair. "Then tell her to get lost." Indie’s stomach twisted at the way he looked at Kaelyn—with so much tenderness, so much devotion. It was ridiculous. "And before you leave," he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets, "apologize." His tone was cold. Deadly. Indie met his gaze head-on, her heart pounding, her pride warring with the reality of the situation. Then, slowly, she smiled. A bright, sweet, mocking smile. "Fine, I’ll apologize." Kaelyn smirked, expecting Indie to grovel. Indie turned to her, still smiling. "Miss Russell, award-winning actress Kaelyn Russell," she began, her voice light, teasing, almost playful. "Even though I know you deliberately set me up, I shouldn’t have slapped you. That was my mistake. I should’ve just endured it." The set fell silent. Kaelyn’s smirk vanished. Her face turned red, then white with fury. Rowan’s jaw tightened. His expression darkened like a brewing storm, his gaze locked on Indie, unreadable. Indie’s smile widened. "Are you satisfied now?" For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something that almost looked like hesitation. Like doubt. And that—that—infuriated him even more. No. He wouldn’t let himself be affected by her. His heart belonged to Kaelyn. She was his first love. She was the woman who had once saved his life. Abruptly, he straightened, his posture rigid, his presence suffocating. "Looks like you really belong with those men," he sneered. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the exit. Outside, he shoved her toward the car. Indie gritted her teeth, bracing against the door, refusing to get in. "I didn’t want this damn job in the first place! You forced me to take it. I apologized—what the hell else do you want?!" His dark eyes flashed. "You slapped Kaelyn," he said coolly. "Actions have consequences." Ha. She let out a bitter laugh. "So this is your punishment? Handing me over like some sacrificial lamb?" Her grip on the car door tightened, knuckles turning white. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, to her complete shock, hesitation crossed his face. It lasted only a second, but she saw it. Usually, anyone who made Kaelyn unhappy would be crushed. And yet, she had done far worse. She had slapped Kaelyn. She had humiliated her. By all rights, she should be suffering by now. And yet… Rowan clenched his jaw. "Get lost," he snapped suddenly. "I don’t want to see you again." Indie’s breath caught. For a moment, she thought he would actually— No. She shoved the car door open and ran. She didn’t stop running until she disappeared from sight. Rowan stood by the car, watching her go, his expression unreadable. From the second-floor balcony, Kaelyn watched everything unfold. Her fingers clenched into fists. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Ethan," she said, her voice low, dangerous. "Find out everything you can about Indie Rose." Indie’s cheek still burned from the slap, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest. Damn it. Why did it hurt? She didn’t understand the ache in her heart, the sting of betrayal sinking deeper than she expected. Shaking her head, she pushed forward, cutting through a narrow alley that led to the residential area where she lived. She had lost her job. She had been blacklisted. And now? Now, she had nowhere to go. Her foot suddenly caught on a loose stone. Crash! Pain shot through her ankle. She winced, bending down to rub it when— Footsteps. Her stomach dropped. Slowly, she turned around. And her blood ran cold. Mr. Carter. And he wasn’t alone. "Well, well, well," he drawled, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. "What a coincidence, Miss Indie." Her pulse thundered in her ears. No. This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone had tipped him off. And now? Now, she was in trouble. _________