Chapter 39

Olivia's POV

The air felt thick and suffocating the moment I stepped into the apartment. Elijah was sitting at the dining table, the only source of light coming from the small lamp beside him. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t scrolling through his phone—he was just sitting there, staring at the envelope in his hands like it held the answers to every question he never wanted to ask.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “Elijah?”

His head lifted slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable. Without a word, he slid the envelope across the table toward me. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to.

“Open it,” he said, his voice eerily calm.

With trembling fingers, I picked it up and pulled out the photo inside. My breath hitched. The picture of Zoya and me kissing burned into my vision like a scar I could never erase. My hands shook as I flipped it over, seeing the message scrawled on the back:

Divorce her.

“Elijah, I—”

“Was this recent?” he cut me off, his voice low but sharp. “Or is this an old picture?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. How could I even begin to explain? I looked up at him, pleading silently for him to understand something I didn’t even know how to put into words.

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “We were fine, Olivia,” he said, his voice rising. “We were happy. Then she showed up, and everything went to hell.”

I flinched. “Elijah, it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.” He gestured toward the picture, his voice breaking slightly. “Tell me, Olivia. Is this what you wanted all along? Did you just need an excuse?”

“No!” I took a step closer, desperation clawing at my throat. “I never wanted this to happen, Elijah. I didn’t mean—”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You didn’t mean to what? To fall for her? To let it get this far? Or to lie to me every single day while I sat here like an idiot, thinking we were okay?”

My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. “We were okay, Elijah. But somewhere along the way... I don’t know. Things changed.”

“No, Olivia.” His voice hardened. “You changed.” He paced the room, running a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. “And you know what? I wouldn’t even care about your feelings for her, but then I get this.” He snatched the photo from my hands and waved it in front of me. “Who else would want to destroy our marriage, huh? Who else would gain from this? Zoya.”

I gasped, my chest tightening. “No. Zoya would never—”

“How do you know?” he challenged, stepping closer, his voice laced with pain. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I love her!”

The words burst out before I could stop them, raw and undeniable. The second they left my mouth, I knew there was no taking them back.

Elijah’s face crumpled, and for a moment, I thought he might say something, anything—but he just stared at me, the weight of my confession settling in like an anvil between us.

His jaw clenched, his eyes glossing over with something that resembled both anger and resignation. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he said quietly, his voice eerily steady.

“Elijah, please,” I whispered, reaching for him, but he pulled away.

“I’m done fighting for someone who doesn’t want to be here,” he said, his voice breaking just slightly at the end. “I deserve more than this, Olivia. I deserve someone who actually wants to be with me. So I’m done. I want a divorce.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs, and I staggered back, gripping the edge of the table for support. “Elijah.”

He shook his head, stepping back toward the door. “Get out.”

And with that, he was gone.

I sank into the chair, my entire body trembling. The photo lay on the table in front of me, a cruel reminder of everything I’d lost in just a few words.

I had finally admitted the truth—to him, to myself. And now, I was paying the price.

I didn’t know how long I had been walking. My legs carried me forward aimlessly, the city lights blurring through my tears. My chest ached, my breath coming in ragged gasps as Elijah’s words echoed in my head.

“I’m done fighting for someone like you.”

I wiped at my face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The weight of everything—Elijah, the picture, my feelings for Zoya—pressed down on me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere along the way, I found myself in front of Zoya’s apartment building. I stared up at the familiar windows, blinking through my tears, my heart pounding in my ears. Before I could second-guess myself, my feet carried me inside.

I knocked once. Twice. My hand hovered for a third before the door creaked open.

Zoya stood there, barefoot and in an oversized sweater, her hair messy like she’d been running her hands through it. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw me. “Olivia?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The dam inside me broke, and before I knew it, I fell into her arms, clutching at her like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

“Hold me,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please... just hold me.”

Zoya hesitated, her hands hovering over my back, uncertain, before she finally pulled me close. Her warmth enveloped me, and I sobbed into her shoulder, my body shaking.

We stood there for what felt like forever, the silence between us thick with things left unsaid.

Zoya’s voice was soft, careful. “Olivia... what happened?”

I shook my head against her. “Not now. Just... hold me.”

And she did.

I don’t know how long I stayed in Zoya’s arms, letting her warmth hold me together when everything else was falling apart. My tears had dried, but the ache in my chest remained, a dull and constant reminder of what I’d lost.

I pulled away slowly, rubbing at my eyes, embarrassed by how shattered I must have looked. My gaze flickered to the coffee table, and I felt my entire body freeze.

There it was.

A picture. Our picture.

Zoya and me, caught in the kiss from earlier—the intimacy raw, undeniable. But it wasn’t just the image itself that made my stomach churn; it was the sheer perfection of it. The angle, the lighting... it was taken up close, like whoever snapped it had been right there with us.

I reached for it with trembling fingers, flipping it over.

The note on the back wasn’t scrawled like a last-minute threat. No. It was written with careful precision, each letter sharp and calculated.

“Leave Olivia alone or I will destroy both of your lives.”

My breath hitched. I read the words once, twice, and then a third time, hoping they’d change, hoping I wasn’t seeing this right. But they remained, cold and taunting.

I turned to Zoya, my voice shaking. “Zoya... where did this come from?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, looking exhausted. “Someone slid it under my door tonight.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. “What is happening?”

“It's not some sick joke.” She hesitated. “ Now... it’s real, Olivia.”

I sat down, holding the picture in my lap, staring at it like it could somehow give me answers. “Elijah got one too.”

Zoya’s head snapped up. “What?”

I nodded slowly, bile rising in my throat. “Same picture, different message.”

Her face paled. “What did it say?”

I swallowed hard, the words sticking to the back of my throat. “It was.. to leave me."

Zoya pressed her lips together, her jaw tightening. “So whoever’s doing this... they’re trying to get inside our heads.”

I exhaled shakily, running my fingers over the edge of the photo. “This isn’t just about rumors anymore. This is targeted. Someone’s watching us, Zoya.”

Her eyes darkened, and she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Who would even do this? Who could get close enough to take a picture like this without us noticing?”

I thought about the set, the people who were around us every day, the people we trusted. “Anthony,” I whispered, barely able to say his name.

Zoya’s eyes flicked up to me sharply. “You think it’s him?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my hands curling into fists. “But it makes sense. He’s been trying to get close to me. He keeps pushing me to trust him.”

Zoya nodded slowly, considering. “Ezra, too. He’s been acting weird ever since this started. What if he’s trying to control the narrative by making us fall apart?”

I shook my head, frustrated. “Why would Ezra do this? The show’s his life. He wouldn’t risk it.”

Zoya bit her lip, staring at the picture again. “Then who, Olivia? Who else?”

A sickening thought struck me, and I whispered it before I could stop myself. “What if it’s someone closer? Someone we trust?”

The words hung between us like a dark cloud.

Zoya’s face hardened. “Then we need to be careful.” She reached out, covering my hand with hers. “We can’t let them win.”

I looked at her, feeling that spark—the one that had always been there between us, the one I had been so afraid of acknowledging. But now, it wasn’t just about us anymore. It was about whoever was trying to rip us apart.

I tightened my grip on the picture. “We need to figure this out.”

Zoya nodded, her expression resolute. “Before it’s too late.”

And for the first time, I realized that we weren’t just fighting rumors.

We were fighting someone who wanted to see us destroyed.