The Arrogant Leading Lady

Hearing his blunt question, Sloane lowered her head. A deep sense of grievance washed over her chest. Her desperate need to vent had hit a solid brick wall, and his unfeeling tone made her feel foolish for reaching out. "Hey, that is not the point," she slurred into the receiver, her voice thick with drunken frustration. "Can't you see that I am angry?"

A beat of silence passed on the line. Then, Rowan's voice came through, clipped and cold. "Mhmm. I see."

Sloane froze. Stunned by the blatant lack of empathy, she jabbed the red button on her screen, ending the call. She stared at the darkened phone, her pulse throbbing in her temples. What did she expect? She reminded herself that they had only met a few days ago. They shared a marriage certificate, but he had no real emotional reason to care about her daily struggles. Swallowing down the massive lump of feeling wronged, she grabbed the open bottle. She poured herself another brimming glass of wine, the chilled liquid sloshing over the rim. Snatching her phone back up, she fired off an SOS text message to her girls' group chat.

Hundreds of miles away in Cove City, Rowan sat at the head of a massive mahogany table. The boardroom was packed with intimidating department heads. A multi-million dollar project pitch was currently underway, with a presenter standing by a glowing screen. Trapped in the strict, high-stakes environment, Rowan was unable to speak freely. He had been forced to cut the call short. He set his phone facedown on the polished wood, unaware that his brief, restricted responses had shattered her feelings.

Less than a minute after sending her SOS, Sloane's phone buzzed on the nightstand with an incoming group video call. She tapped the screen, and her friends' faces appeared. Brooke stepped up as the ultimate virtual drinking buddy. "I've got you," Brooke announced, pouring her own massive glass of wine on camera to help drown Sloane's mounting sorrows. Gemma chimed in from her side of the screen, raising a mug of tea in solidarity.

The three girls stayed on the line deep into the night. They chatted wildly, mocking Vance and his inflated ego. They tore into Tasha's desperate antics, turning the evening's disaster into a running joke. Brooke's sharp wit and the shared laughter worked like magic. Sloane's unbearably heavy mood evaporated into thin air. By the time they finally said their goodbyes, she felt light and validated. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed, ready for a good night of sleep.

She woke up the next morning in high spirits. Devoid of any hangover, she stretched under the crisp hotel covers. She ordered room service for breakfast, enjoying her hot coffee and buttered toast in the quiet comfort of her suite. Her primary goal for the morning was simple: navigate the hotel lobby and avoid bumping into Vance and his toxic new girlfriend. She changed into her outfit for the day, grabbed her shoulder bag, and headed downstairs.

Luck was not on her side. The minute she stepped out of the elevator doors, she spotted the dreadful couple lingering right at the main exit.

Tasha’s eyes locked onto her cousin instantly. A spark of malice flashed across Tasha's face. Without missing a beat, Tasha wrapped her arm tight around Vance’s waist. She pulled him flush against her body, molding herself to him, before turning her head to shoot Sloane a gloating, victorious smile. Tasha believed she had achieved ultimate triumph. She thought she had successfully stolen the wealthy man her cousin so desperately loved, unaware that Sloane had already made peace with her painful past and was secretly married to a billionaire.

Sloane refused to let toxic people ruin her perfectly good day. She masked any hint of annoyance, keeping her expression neutral. Squaring her shoulders, she held her head high and strutted right past them. She did not break her stride or spare them a second glance, walking directly out the glass doors to her waiting production car.

The drive to the massive venue for the movie's official press conference was quick. Sloane kept her attire strict and casual. She wore simple clothes, knowing her role as the screenwriter required her to show face behind the scenes, not steal the spotlight from the glamorous cast.

She navigated the bustling venue, sidestepping crew members setting up lighting rigs, and checked in with Director Declan. He stood at the back of the hall, reviewing a clipboard. He gave her a welcoming nod and began briefing her on the grueling schedule for the day, detailing the press interactions and the evening dinner party.

Right in the middle of their deep conversation, the double doors at the entrance swung wide open. The sharp click of high heels echoed through the space. A stunning, tall woman made a dramatic, attention-seeking entrance into the grand hall. She was clad in a breathtaking silver dress featuring a bold thigh-high slit. She wore massive dark designer shades despite being indoors. She swept into the room like royalty, flanked by a massive entourage of assistants who juggled her luxury bags, fresh coffees, and stacks of documents. One assistant scrambled to whisper something in her ear while another rushed ahead to clear her path.

Sloane stopped talking, her bewildered gaze tracking the chaotic spectacle moving through the room. Declan noticed her staring and leaned in close to her ear.

"That's Chloe, our female lead," Declan whispered seriously, his tone tight. "She can be a handful and vicious. Be careful and make sure you stay far away from her."

Taking the genuine warning to heart, Sloane shifted her attention back to the director. She simply smiled politely. "Noted." She appreciated the crucial heads-up before the chaos of the day truly began.