Chapter 1The Unfinished Script

When Caleb Thorne and I broke up, it was ugly.

He, the proud, untouchable prodigy, knelt on the ground and begged me not to go.

I only hesitated for a second before pulling my hand away and leaving without looking back.

Four years later, I saw Caleb again. It was at a business dinner to sign the rights for my novel.

He was the CEO, sitting at the head of the table, waiting for people to toast him.

I was the small-time author sitting at the far end, waiting for him to greenlight the movie deal.

He looked at me, his eyes calm and devoid of emotion, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

"Drink three shots, and I'll consider signing the contract."

* * *

"Drink three shots, and I'll consider signing the contract."

As Caleb's words fell, the room went dead silent. Every eye at the table turned to me.

Those gazes felt like needles. I stiffened.

Sitting next to me was my editor, Sarah. She quickly stood up, holding her wine glass with a slight bow. "Our Lana isn't much of a drinker, Mr. Thorne. Can I drink this one for her?"

Caleb didn't speak. Sarah froze, caught in an awkward limbo.

The tension was palpable. Caleb was openly putting me on the spot.

The original investor had been arrested for fraud, and now the entire production crew was praying Caleb would take over. If he walked, the project was dead.

I exhaled slowly. "It's okay, Sarah."

I looked at Caleb, trying to find a trace of the boy I once knew in his sharp, defined features.

"If I drink, you'll sign?"

"If you drink, I'll sign."

His gaze held a cold mockery that ignited a spark of anger in my chest.

I reached across the table for a glass of pink sparkling wine.

Before I could touch it, a large hand covered the rim.

Caleb nodded toward a bottle of high-proof whiskey next to it, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Drink that."

I paused. "What do you mean, Mr. Thorne?"

"When you're begging for something, you should show the proper attitude..." He tapped the table with his knuckle. "You taught me that."

Humiliation burned my cheeks. I gritted my teeth and grabbed the whiskey glass.

One shot. Two shots.

The burning liquid exploded in my throat. I couldn't help but cough violently.

As I raised the third glass to my lips, Caleb suddenly stood up and snatched it from my hand.

"Forget it."

He tossed the glass aside. It hit the carpet with a dull thud, a dark stain spreading across the fabric.

He didn't even look at it, his voice cold. "Ms. Lane is coughing so much, people might think I'm bullying her."

The atmosphere relaxed slightly. The assistant director jumped in to smooth things over. "Mr. Thorne, technically Ms. Lane isn't part of the crew.

"Mr. Thorne, on behalf of the entire production team, I'll drink to you."

The assistant director poured a full glass and downed it.

He looked at Caleb, ready to pour another.

But Caleb looked bored. He stared at me for a long moment, then scoffed. "Sit down."