"You did what?" Ethan nearly dropped the phone.
His editor, Mark, sounded annoyingly calm on the other end. "I submitted your manuscript. The one you've been working on the past year."
"You had no right—"
"I had every right," Mark cut in. "You're wasting time, Ethan. Sitting on pages like they're radioactive. This competition is exactly what you need. Exposure, recognition, maybe even a deal if you don't sabotage yourself."
Ethan pressed his hand to his forehead, pacing the small apartment. His stomach churned. "Mark, you don't understand. It's not ready. I'm not ready."
"You're never ready," Mark said flatly. "That's your problem. You keep hiding behind excuses, while other writers put their work out there."
Ethan clenched his jaw. He hated that Mark was right. But before he could argue further, Mark added the detail that made his chest go cold.
"Oh, and before you get too dramatic — Adrian Gray is in the competition too."
Ethan froze. The name hit like a punch. Adrian Gray. Darling of the literary scene. Charismatic, arrogant, the kind of writer who filled rooms with his presence. And, most infuriatingly, the kind of man people believed in without question.
"Of course he is," Ethan muttered bitterly.
Mark's voice softened slightly. "Look, I know Gray gets under your skin, but maybe that's the point. Maybe a little rivalry is what'll finally light the fire under you."
When the call ended, Ethan tossed his phone on the couch and sank down beside it, his thoughts racing. Adrian Gray. The golden boy. The man who seemed to glide through life with everything Ethan wanted: talent, charm, success… even Isabella would've liked him, Ethan thought darkly, though he hated himself for it.
He poured a drink and sat in the half-dark, staring at the pile of notebooks stacked against the wall. He had something inside him, he knew it — something worth reading. But standing next to Adrian Gray? He felt like a fraud.
The unfairness gnawed at him. Adrian didn't wrestle with words the way Ethan did. He didn't bleed onto the page. He performed, and people applauded.
But this time… this time, Ethan would make them see him.
Somewhere deep inside, a different voice stirred. The same voice that whispered whenever Isabella kissed him. Dangerous, reckless, hungry.
He lifted the glass, his reflection warped in the amber liquid. "You're not going to outshine me, Gray," he whispered into the empty room. "Not this time."