The starlet Julian Croft coddled was throwing her 99th tantrum, demanding they break up.

He slid the divorce papers in front of me.

"Clara, sign them. I'm just playing along to calm her down. Once she's happy, we'll get remarried."

My heart was dead. I signed the papers without a second thought.

The onlookers in the room marveled. "Julian, you're a genius. You've got your wife completely under your thumb!"

"You've got to share your secrets for keeping her in line!"

Julian stubbed out his cigarette, his face alight with pride.

"She's madly in love with me. She'd crawl on her hands and knees for me if I asked."

A wave of laughter exploded behind me like fireworks, illuminating the ten years of my wretched marriage.

That night, he brought the girl home.

Her rabbit-like whimpers echoed through the house all night long.

I picked up the suitcase I had packed long ago and turned to leave.

Our housekeeper, Maria, tried to stop me, but Julian just shot me a mocking look.

"Let her go. She's nothing without me."

"Does she really think she's still that triple-crown actress?"

He kissed the girl's young face as if to spite me, but his eyes were locked on mine.

The next day, all of Veridia City was placing bets on how many days it would take for Julian Croft's disobedient, cast-off wife to come crawling back.

But what they didn't know was that the famous director who was personally flying me to Cannes—my best friend, Simone—was already waiting for me outside in a stretch Lincoln.

This time, I was really leaving.

...

Seeing that I wasn't the least bit jealous, Julian rushed after me.

I waited for him to speak, but instead, he snatched my suitcase.

"Clara, the girl's dream is to be a famous actress. She wants to see your trophies. Take them out and let her play with them."

I glanced down at my hand, at the finger that had been broken during a stunt and could no longer bend properly.

The price of becoming a triple-crown actress was a body full of chronic pain. He knew how much those trophies meant to me.

He also knew they were the one thing I would be sure to take with me. He was intentionally trying to thwart me.

When I remained silent, his brow furrowed with impatience.

"You're so annoying. Always with that miserable look on your face. It's such bad luck."

"Name your price. A hundred million? Is that enough?"

Money. If we were really going to talk about money, what was the price of a top actress's ten best years?

I gave a bitter smile, looking at the young girl, Tanya, whose face was a sixty-percent match to my own when I was her age.

They say men are consistent; they only ever love eighteen-year-old girls.

I wondered how long this girl, who had debuted under the moniker "Little Clara," would last by Julian's side.

I handed her the trophies, offering a sincere wish. "I hear you're also from the Academy? In that case, I hope your dreams come true soon."

Seeing my compliance, he nodded in satisfaction and made a gesture of goodwill.

"If you take good care of her, I can consider letting you play a supporting role in her next film."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Me, a supporting role? Would she even dare to accept the part?"

Years ago, for Julian, I had given it all up. "My heart aches seeing you work so hard," he'd said. "Stop filming. Isn't it enough to just be Mrs. Croft?"

At the very awards ceremony where I won my final major Best Actress award, I announced my retirement.

The ten years I spent with the Croft family, from age 25 to 35, were my most precious. And what did he give me in return? One affair after another.

And now he wanted me to play second fiddle to his new toy?

I grabbed my suitcase and turned to leave. At that moment, Julian viciously hurled one of the trophies at me.