The week after Victor Dane's threat felt like waking up inside someone else's skin.
Ethan stood at his tiny Los Feliz apartment window, watching the city move without him. Cars slipped down Sunset like beads of mercury, and people hurried along the sidewalks with purpose. Everyone out there seemed to know where they were going. What they were doing. Who they were becoming.
He didn't.
Not anymore.
Not when one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood had quietly—and very clearly—told him his future might already be over.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Scarlett.
He stared at the screen for a long moment before finally answering.
"Hey," she said softly, her voice like warm light in a cold room. "I'm outside."
He blinked. "Outside? Like—here?"
"Yes," she said. "Let me in?"
He didn't know how long he stood frozen, but eventually he unlocked the gate. Scarlett stepped through, hoodie pulled up, sunglasses too big for her face, trying to hide from anyone who might recognise her. She looked smaller than she usually did—less like the rising Hollywood star and more like the young woman he'd met on the Lost in Translation set, laughing into her ramen bowl.
When she saw his face, the humour drained from hers.
"Oh, Ethan…" Scarlett whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "Jake told me what happened."
Ethan sighed. "Jake didn't need to do that."
She shook her head. "No. He did."
He didn't move as she crossed the room and reached for his arm. The moment her hand touched him, something in him almost broke. He didn't want pity—not from Scarlett, not from anyone—but she wasn't offering pity. What she offered instead was presence.
"Sit with me?" she asked.
He nodded.
They sat on the edge of his bed, the room quiet except for the hum of traffic outside. Scarlett took off her sunglasses, revealing eyes filled with something heavy—fear, anger, hurt. Emotions he wasn't used to seeing on her.
"What did he say to you?" she asked.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't even that dramatic. He just… laid out the rules. Who I needed to 'thank' to move forward. Who I needed to 'stay loyal' to."
Scarlett's jaw clenched. "He wanted you to sleep with him."
Ethan didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Scarlett inhaled sharply, almost shaking with anger. "He's been doing this for years. Everybody knows, but they pretend they don't. He tried something with one of the girls in my old acting class. She quit the industry because of him."
Ethan's stomach dropped. "Why didn't anyone say anything?"
"Because he has power," she whispered. "Real power. The kind that buries people alive."
He swallowed. That was exactly what he felt—like he was being buried while still breathing.
Scarlett touched his knee gently, grounding him. "You did the right thing, Ethan."
"Did I?" he whispered. "Because it doesn't feel like it. Feels like I handed him the shovel myself."
Scarlett looked at him for a long moment. "What he asked from you would've cost you your soul. You think losing a few jobs compares to that?"
He didn't answer because he wasn't convinced. Not yet.
Scarlett sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I got a call this morning. They're… they're considering cutting you from the festival short we shot."
Ethan's breath caught. "You're kidding."
"I wish I were." She let out a humourless laugh. "They said they want to 'reevaluate casting cohesion.' Whatever the hell that means."
Ethan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "So it starts."
Scarlett shook her head. "No. It doesn't start. Because I'm not letting you go through this alone."
He blinked. "Scarlett…"
"No," she said firmly. "I don't care if it hurts my career. I don't care if people talk. You did something brave—stupid, maybe, but brave. And I'm not walking away from you because of that."
He let out a shaky breath. "You don't have to stay. This isn't your problem."
"It became my problem the second I cared about you." She paused, voice softening. "And I do, Ethan. I care a lot."
Silence settled between them—warm, quiet, unexpectedly intimate.
He hadn't realised how deeply he needed someone to say that. To just… not disappear.
She placed both hands on his shoulders and made him look at her. "Listen to me. Victor Dane doesn't get to define you. He doesn't get to scare you into giving up."
"He can end my career," Ethan said, voice raw.
Scarlett nodded. "Yeah. He can. But he can't end you."
He swallowed hard.
She squeezed his hands. "You know what I thought the first time I met you? 'God, this guy feels everything. Too much.' But that's your strength. That's what makes you good."
"You're going to risk everything for me?" he asked, his voice smaller than he intended.
Scarlett smiled faintly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. "You're worth risking things for."
Something inside him cracked open—some buried hope he had forced down for decades in his previous life. Scarlett wasn't just being kind. She wasn't trying to fix him. She was choosing him.
She stood up and extended her hand. "Come on. Get dressed. You're not hiding in here all day."
He frowned. "Where are we going?"
"To work," she said simply. "We're running lines for 'The Village' audition tomorrow."
Ethan blinked. "You're helping me audition? Even after—"
"Yes." Her tone left no room for argument. "You're not giving up. Not after everything you've survived. Not after getting a second life. And definitely not because some disgusting old man wants to control you."
He hesitated, then took her hand. Her grip was steady, warm.
She pulled him off the bed and toward the mirror. "You're going to go into that room tomorrow and prove why they can't erase you."
"Scarlett…"
She turned, looked him dead in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Ethan."
Later that day, they sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room, scripts spread around them. Scarlett coached him through beats, helping him find the emotional nuance he couldn't see in himself. They laughed, argued over line readings, ate cold pizza, and fell into a rhythm that felt… natural.
Intimate.
Safe.
At one point, Ethan paused mid-line, emotion tightening his throat. "Scarlett… why are you really doing this? You don't owe me anything."
She stared at him for a long moment before answering softly:
"Because I know what it's like to be young in this industry and feel like you're already drowning. Because I wish someone had stood by me the way I'm standing by you. And because—" she hesitated, cheeks warming— "I want you to succeed. Not because of me. Not for me. But because you deserve to."
He exhaled, overwhelmed.
Scarlett leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. "And maybe… because I like being around you."
He looked down, hiding a smile.
Outside, the sun was setting. A warm orange glow filled the room, making everything feel softer, possible, alive again. Hours slipped by unnoticed as they worked together—two people in a storm, choosing to anchor themselves to each other.
For the first time since Victor Dane's threat, Ethan felt something like strength returning to him.
He wasn't alone.
Not anymore.
Scarlett stayed until late evening, curled beside him on the couch while they watched old DVDs, pausing occasionally to discuss character motivations or emotional beats. She didn't leave until midnight, kissing his cheek before slipping out the door with a whispered:
"Don't lose yourself. I won't let you."
Ethan stood in the quiet apartment long after she left, her presence lingering like the warmth of a candle flame.
Maybe Victor Dane could hurt his career.
Maybe the industry could try to bury him.
But this?
This support, this connection, this unexpected intimacy—
They couldn't take this away.
Scarlett believed in him.
More importantly, she stayed.
And that single choice changed everything