The bedroom was immaculate. The moonlight spilled across the floor, highlighting the slight wrinkles on the expensive duvet.

Gabrielle set her bag on the armchair. Johan must have come home to nap between meetings. She unzipped her tote and pulled out the black lace lingerie she had bought specifically for tonight.

She unbuttoned her stiff blazer and let it drop to the floor. She unhooked her bra and stepped out of her skirt. The cold air hit her skin, making her shiver. She pulled the delicate lace over her body.

She walked over to the full-length mirror. She reached up and pulled the pins from her tight bun. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders. She took off the heavy black glasses and set them on the dresser.

The woman in the mirror did not look like an assistant. She looked striking. Her cheekbones were sharp, her eyes wide and clear. This was the face she hid from the world because Johan hated when people looked at her instead of him.

The sound of a key turning in the front door echoed through the quiet apartment.

Gabrielle's heart hammered against her ribs. He was early.

She looked around the room in a panic. The walk-in closet was her only option. She grabbed her clothes and her bag, darted into the massive closet, and pulled the door shut. She left a tiny crack open so she could see.

Footsteps approached the bedroom. Heavy, familiar steps. And then, the sharp click of high heels.

"Johan, are you sure your agent is not coming over?" a woman asked.

The voice was high and breathy. Gabrielle recognized it instantly. It was Lacey Morrow, the new actress Johan was supposed to be mentoring.

Gabrielle's stomach dropped. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck.

"Relax," Johan said. His voice was thick with amusement. "I told her I had a late meeting with the director. She believes everything I say."

Lacey giggled. She walked into Gabrielle's line of sight. She wrapped her arms around Johan's neck.

Gabrielle clamped her hand over her own mouth. Her teeth bit into her palm. The black lace against her skin suddenly felt like sandpaper. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

Lacey stopped in front of the mirrored closet door. She ran a hand through her blonde hair, staring at her reflection.

"When are you going to dump her?" Lacey asked. "I hate sneaking around like this."

Johan grabbed Lacey by the waist and pulled her away from the mirror. He threw her onto the bed.

"What is the rush?" Johan asked. "She is still useful to me."

The sound of their lips meeting sent a wave of bile up Gabrielle's throat. Her knees shook so violently she had to lean against the wooden shelves to stay upright.

Her perfect world shattered into jagged pieces right in front of her eyes. Five years of devotion. Five years of hiding her own light so he could shine.

She reached into her bag with trembling fingers. She pulled out her phone. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped it. She opened the voice memo app and pressed record.

She could not just run out crying. She was a top-tier agent. She needed leverage.

The noises from the bed grew louder. Every gasp and moan felt like a physical blow to Gabrielle's chest. She squeezed her eyes shut. Hot tears burned a path down her cheeks, ruining her carefully applied makeup.

She forced her eyes open. She made herself watch through the crack in the door. She needed to burn this image into her brain so she would never be stupid enough to forgive him.

Outside the closet, Lacey suddenly stopped moving. She pushed Johan's chest.

"Honey," Lacey said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I feel like someone is in here."

Johan let out a breathless laugh. He rolled over and pinned Lacey to the mattress.

"Stop being paranoid, baby," Johan said. "It is just us."

Inside the closet, Gabrielle lowered her phone slightly. Her chest heaved with silent, shallow breaths. The air in the small space was suffocating.

Lacey traced her finger down Johan's chest. "Seriously though, what do you even see in Gabrielle? She looks like a librarian. She is so boring and stiff."

The words sliced through the dark closet and hit Gabrielle straight in the chest. She had dressed like that for him. She had made herself invisible for him.

Johan scoffed. The sound was thick with disdain.

"You don't get it," Johan said. "I keep her around because she is safe. She handles all my crap, she organizes my life, and she's obsessed with me. She never causes drama."

He paused, shifting his weight on the bed.

"Plus, she's so plain," Johan continued. "I can take her anywhere and she never steals the spotlight. I need an assistant who worships me, not a queen who expects me to bow."

The last shred of Gabrielle's breaking heart turned to ash.

The pain vanished, replaced by a freezing, hollow void in her stomach. She was not a partner to him. She was an appliance. A safe, ugly appliance.

Her phone screen suddenly lit up the dark closet. The phone began to vibrate violently in her hand.

It was the unknown number. The paparazzi was not giving up. Instead of a call, a rapid succession of text messages flooded her screen, each one accompanied by a harsh, buzzing vibration against her palm. Gabrielle panicked. She jammed her thumb against the volume down button, desperately trying to kill the haptic feedback, but her hands were shaking too badly. The screen illuminated her pale face as she read the incoming texts.

Ms. Webb, have you thought about my offer? Half a million for the pictures of your boyfriend and Lacey Morrow making out in the hotel garage.

Before she could even process the words, another message popped up. Come on. I have a video too. It gets really good.

The sudden, consecutive vibrations rattled against the wooden shelf of the closet, a sound that seemed deafening in the quiet room.

On the bed, Johan stopped moving. He sat up.

"What was that noise?" Johan asked.

Gabrielle's blood turned to ice. She clutched the phone to her chest, smothering the device with her own body.

Lacey pulled Johan back down by his shoulders. "It's probably just the ice maker in the fridge. Ignore it."

Gabrielle typed a message with lightning speed.

Send me the files. Now.

Three seconds later, a high-definition video and four photos loaded onto her screen. The images were undeniable.

Gabrielle stared at the screen. She looked at the digital proof of his betrayal, and then she looked through the crack in the door at the physical proof happening on her bed.

She typed one final message to the paparazzi.

I am not paying you a dime. But if you leak these, I will make sure you are blacklisted from every media outlet in New York. Try me.

The three typing dots appeared on the screen, and then vanished. The paparazzi went silent.

Gabrielle deleted the text thread. She stopped the voice recording. She did not need it anymore.

She looked down at the black lace lingerie. It felt ridiculous now. She wiped the wet streaks from her face with the back of her hand. Her hands were no longer shaking.

She took a deep breath. The vanilla scent in the room no longer made her sick. It just made her angry.

She reached out and grabbed the handle of the closet door.

She shoved the door open.

The hinges let out a loud, sharp squeal that cut through the heavy breathing in the room.

Johan and Lacey froze. They snapped their heads toward the closet.

Gabrielle stepped out of the shadows. The moonlight caught the edge of her bare shoulders and the cold, dead look in her eyes.

Lacey screamed. She scrambled backward against the headboard, pulling the white duvet up to her chin. Her eyes were wide with sheer terror.

Johan scrambled to his knees. His face drained of all color. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish.

"Gab... Gabrielle?" Johan stammered. "What are you doing here?"

Gabrielle did not look at him. She kept her eyes locked on Lacey. Lacey shrank back, trying to make herself as small as possible behind Johan's shoulder.

"Me?" Gabrielle asked, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "I came to give you your birthday surprise. Are you surprised?"

She looked down at her own body, clad only in the sheer black lace. A bitter, mocking smile touched the corners of her lips.

Johan's panic shifted into defense mode. He reached out a hand toward her.

"Baby, listen to me," Johan said, his voice cracking. "It's not what it looks like. She came onto me. I told her to leave!"

He threw Lacey under the bus without a second thought. Lacey gasped, her face turning a sickly shade of gray.

Gabrielle tilted her head. She looked at Johan as if he were a stain on the rug.

"Is that right?" Gabrielle asked. "Did she also force you to say I was 'safe'? And 'ordinary'? Did she force you to say I look like an assistant?"

She repeated his exact words. Each syllable hit Johan like a physical slap to the face.

Johan flinched. He realized she had heard everything. Every single word.

He changed his tactic. He tried to look pathetic. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his nakedness.

"Gabby, I'm so sorry," he pleaded. "I messed up. I was just stressed about the new movie. You know how I get."

Gabrielle stared at him. "Roll over and die, Johan."

She turned her back to him. She walked over to the armchair and picked up her gray skirt. She stepped into it and zipped it up. She pulled her stiff white button-down shirt over her arms and buttoned it to the collar.

As the familiar, rigid fabric settled against her skin, a profound shift occurred in her mind. For five years, she had smoothed out all her edges for this man. She had made herself invisible, swallowing her own ambition to be his stepping stone, only to be branded as 'safe' and 'ordinary'-a disposable convenience. The agonizing sorrow in her chest rapidly calcified into something cold, sharp, and unbreakable. From this moment on, she was done playing the martyr. She was going back to being Gabrielle Webb, fighting solely for herself.

She was putting her armor back on.

She picked up the heavy black glasses from the dresser and slid them onto her face. The beautiful, vulnerable woman from a moment ago vanished. The ruthless agent returned.

Johan watched her dress. The cold efficiency of her movements terrified him more than screaming would have. He had never seen her like this.

"No, wait," Johan said. He stood up and took a step toward her. "You can't just leave. We're not breaking up over this."

He reached out to grab her arm.

Gabrielle sidestepped him effortlessly. "Don't touch me."

She looked him dead in the eye.

"Johan Lee, as of this exact second, I am no longer your girlfriend," Gabrielle said.

She picked up her tote bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"And I am officially resigning as your lead agent. My lawyer will send the termination papers to your production company tomorrow morning."

Johan stopped breathing. The loss of his girlfriend was an inconvenience. The loss of his agent was a career death sentence. Gabrielle was the only reason he got the audition for his last movie.

"No!" Johan yelled, his voice shrill. "You can't do this to me! After everything we've been through!"

"Everything we've been through?" Gabrielle asked. "You're a joke."

She pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened the video file and held the screen up to his face.

"An hour ago, TMZ contacted me," Gabrielle said. "They wanted half a million dollars for this. What do you think will happen if I just email it to them for free?"

Johan stared at the screen. He saw himself pushing Lacey against the concrete wall of the hotel parking garage. His pupils dilated in pure horror.

His career flashed before his eyes. The family-friendly brand deals. The upcoming press tour. All gone.

"Gabby, please," Johan begged, his voice broke into a pathetic whine. "Please don't do this."

Gabrielle lowered the phone and slipped it back into her pocket.

"Stay away from me," Gabrielle said. "If you ever try to contact me again, your name will be printed next to the words 'serial cheater' on every newsstand in America by sunrise."

Johan's arms fell limply to his sides. He knew she meant it.

Gabrielle turned around and walked out of the bedroom. She did not look back.