Chapter 3

The next day, a termination letter from the company’s legal department arrived at my temporary residence with lightning speed.

The termination reason cited ‘leaking company commercial secrets and causing severe negative impact to the artist’s reputation.’ They demanded I return all project fees from the past year and pay a staggering eight-figure breach of contract penalty.

Meanwhile, the studio registered under my name, which the company had funded, was forcibly reclaimed.

This wasn’t just termination; it was total annihilation.

They wanted me to leave with absolutely nothing, burdening me with lifelong debt I might never repay.

Before I could recover from the shock of the termination letter, my phone dinged with a SnapChat message.

It was from Lucas’s number.

I opened it. The photo showed Daisy curled up lazily in his arms like a cat, the background our bedroom, the one we’d shared for five years. Lucas had an arm wrapped around her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The scene was intimate, and blindingly painful.

A line of text accompanied the photo: “Thank you for clearing your spot, Willow.”

My stomach churned, and I felt sick to my core, almost gagging.

Immediately after, there was a commotion outside the door. I pulled back a corner of the curtain and saw movers throwing my belongings out of the apartment, piece by piece.

The sofa I’d personally chosen, the throw pillow I’d used during sleepless writing nights, even the cushion he’d once signed for me, “To my dearest Shadow Screenwriter,” were all roughly tossed onto the ground, covered in dust.

Lucas didn’t even give me time to pack my own things.

I drew the curtains, shutting out everything outside.

Over the next few days, I experienced what it meant to be kicked while I was down.

Lucas’s studio pulled every string they had, putting out word to all production companies and streaming platforms that anyone who dared to work with Willow Hayes would be going against the newly crowned Best Actor, Lucas Thorne.

Dozens of resumes I sent out vanished into a black hole, no replies.

Producers who used to greet me with smiles and called me 'friend' now ignored my calls and SnapChat messages.

The blacklist came swiftly and absolutely.

Even more terrifying was the online bullying.

Daisy’s fans somehow dug up my address.

My mailbox was stuffed with razor blades and hateful letters. Every time I opened the door, it required immense courage.

I unplugged the internet, turned off my phone, and completely cut myself off from the outside world.

I didn’t cry, nor did I wallow in self-pity.

I just sat on the floor, amidst the scattered mess, and began calmly and methodically sorting through my ‘legacy’ of the past five years.

I carefully wiped clean and smoothed out the coffee-stained manuscripts, page by page.

Though the writing was blurred, they were the most original evidence of my creative process.

I dug out all my old computers and hard drives.

From the very first day I started working with Lucas, I had a habit of recording all important discussions.

All script drafts, outlines, revised versions—every single iteration—I saved as digital files with precise timestamps.

This was an instinct as a screenwriter, to protect my creative labor.

In the past, I thought it was just a backup, just in case. I never imagined that one day, they would become my weapons of counterattack.

As I organized an encrypted folder, my hand paused.

It was a folder created two years ago, named ‘Daylight.’

I clicked it open. Inside were the complete world-building, detailed character bios, episode outlines for the first three arcs, and… complete scripts for the first three episodes of ‘Daylight.’

My heart began to pound violently.

Something suddenly occurred to me.

Before starting ‘Long Night,’ Lucas’s team had already urged me to begin conceptualizing the next A-list project, which was ‘Daylight.’

To protect this work, into which I had poured immense ambition, I had registered the complete script outline and core concepts of ‘Daylight’ under my personal name, before handing it over to the company.

And in the contract I’d originally signed with the company, the clause regarding ‘Daylight’ was only a vague “adaptation authorization,” and did not involve the transfer of underlying copyright!

They thought that by kicking me out, this project would naturally become theirs. They thought that by pushing ‘Daisy Miller’ as their new muse, they could legitimately steal my hard work.

They were wrong.

My hand, clutching the mouse, trembled slightly with excitement.

This was the ultimate checkmate.

Just then, my computer, now reconnected to the internet, popped up with a news notification.

The headline read: **[Newly Crowned Best Actor Lucas Thorne Teams Up With Genius Screenwriter Daisy Miller, A-List Blockbuster ‘Daylight’ Project Launch Conference to Be Held in One Week!]**

The news was accompanied by a close-up photo of Lucas and Daisy, both smiling brightly, looking confident and in high spirits.

I stared at the blinding headline, at that photo of them in their moment of triumph, and I laughed.

I laughed until tears streamed down my face.