Chapter 2: Hidden Hearts, Broken Fame

I pictured my phone blowing up, notifications coming in faster than I could swipe them away. Back then, I was a nobody, and he was already one of the highest-paid actors in Hollywood. He was cold, didn’t have many friends, and kept me at arm’s length. Only when he had time off would he text me to come over.

After six months, I finally asked why it felt like we were always a secret.

"This business is all about mutual benefit. If you want opportunities, I can give them. But don’t expect anything else."

He didn't even look at me. His voice was flat, emotionless.

"I'm heading out. You should leave a couple of hours later."

He grabbed his coat, his Rolex from the nightstand, and left. I watched the door swing shut behind him, my chest hollow.

The silence that followed was always the worst part. It felt endless. He did help me get a few bit parts—nothing major. I liked it that way: decent pay, plenty of time off. It was enough for me. In the end, our secret fizzled. When I left the industry, I changed all my info.

I figured the video would blow over. I didn’t expect that the next day, the full uncut version—with a timestamp—would leak. People realized it was from two years ago. The video was nearly five hours long. I’d knelt there for four and a half hours. At the end, I collapsed and needed emergency care myself.

The comments started to shift:

"Turns out this was two years ago. Maybe she wasn’t just seeking attention."

"She knelt for four and a half hours? No one would do that for hype."

"Maybe she really liked Caleb back then?"

...

I almost couldn't believe it. Someone dug up that Caleb Monroe had been hospitalized for two weeks after an on-set accident. People started guessing why I left acting. The theory was it wasn’t because of online hate, but because of Caleb’s rumored romance. That I loved him, couldn’t have him, and left heartbroken.

During that time, the tabloids caught Caleb meeting up alone with A-list actress Savannah Langley. Both denied it, but the way they looked at each other told a different story.

That night, someone reported Caleb spent five hours on set watching the video on his phone. He looked so tense, even the director kept his distance.

You could feel it in the room—the heaviness, like a thunderstorm about to break. I almost felt sorry for him. The next morning, my neighbor Molly knocked on my door. When I opened it, she handed me her phone. "Autumn, this person is totally creeping me out!"

I took her phone. "What happened?"

"I commented under that video saying you were about to get married, so people should stop digging. Then this person kept messaging me."

She looked even more annoyed: "When I woke up, there were hundreds of messages." She shoved the phone at me.

I checked. Sure enough, the messages started at 1 a.m. and kept coming. No small talk, just repeated demands for my address and contact info. It was creepy.

Just as I was about to hand the phone back, it buzzed with a new message. My hand froze.

"Is she really getting married?"

I froze for a second, then opened the sender’s profile. I knew right away it was Caleb's burner. He’d never posted, but the background was the phone charm I made for him—a custom couple’s charm I knew fans couldn’t trace. I’d never seen him use it and thought he’d tossed it.

I checked his following list—just one deactivated account. Typical Caleb.

While I was still dazed, he messaged again. My heart skipped a beat.

"Is she happy now?"

I typed back: "Yes, so please don’t bother her."

He replied instantly: "Why didn’t you tell me you came to the hospital?" Of course he'd ask that.

I gave a bitter smile. Did he figure it out that easily? I bit my lip.

When I didn’t reply, another message came. My hands shook.

"Autumn, did you love me?"

I sighed and replied: "Yes, I did."

"I don’t believe you."

He went silent for a long time before sending four words: "I love you, Autumn."

But whether he believed me or not, it didn’t matter anymore. Not anymore.

"Caleb, let me answer two more questions. Someone’s waiting for me to give the phone back."

He clearly panicked, typing fast. He was desperate.

"Why didn’t you tell me you came to the hospital?"

I replied briefly: "I saw Savannah feeding you soup in your room."

"Why did you disappear two years ago?"

I paused: "Because you said I wasn’t worthy."

He immediately sent a link. I opened it—it was a five-minute interview clip. I forwarded it to myself from Molly’s account.

"Autumn, did we know each other before all this?"

"That’s the third question. I refuse to answer."

He seemed afraid I’d give the phone back, typing even faster:

"Answer me!"

"Autumn, are you really getting married?"

"Give me her address and number first!"

"Autumn, answer me!"

...

Maybe he thought typing was too slow, so he started sending voice messages. My heart skipped a beat.

I smiled at Molly. "There’s cheesecake you like in the fridge."

Molly perked up and ran for the kitchen. "Is it the honey kind?"

"Yep!"

"Thanks, Autumn!"

I turned back and typed: "Caleb, please stop harassing people around me. It’s really not a good look." My hands shook as I hit block. Then I deleted our chat history and blocked his account.

I never expected I could face him so calmly now. I was finally free. Caleb Monroe was proud to the bone—his ego would never let him reach out to me again.

"He’s just some spammer. Ignore him."

I handed the phone back to Molly. "I’m heading out soon. Take the cake home." I ruffled her hair.

Molly nodded, pocketed her phone, and left with the cake, closing the door behind her.