Chapter 3

Chrissy's POV

"What are you spacing out about? Today's sequence was beautiful. You're my ace, as always."

A heavy slap landed on my shoulder. I gasped in pain and turned to face Zavier's triumphant expression.

He held two cans of ice-cold beer, casually tossing one to me like he was calling over a buddy.

"What's wrong? You look terrible."

He finally noticed something was off. His brow furrowed, but there wasn't much concern in his eyes. More like he was calculating work schedules.

"Did that take not go well? Want to do a safety?"

I looked at the cold beer in my hand, then at those eyes that used to see only me. I suddenly found it absurd.

His so-called love was treating me like a handy weapon.

No maintenance needed, no care required. Just as long as I could clear obstacles for him.

"No need. It was fine."

I set the beer on the table.

"My shoulder's a bit strained. I'm heading back."

Zavier paused, apparently not expecting me to refuse his "reward."

A flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it.

"Alright then. Ice it when you get back. Tomorrow we've got an underwater escape scene. You need to be in top form. Whether this film wins awards depends on these major sequences."

He didn't even ask if I was badly hurt. Didn't even glance at my still-bleeding shoulder.

It was so obvious.

I nodded and turned toward the exit.

Just as I reached the set entrance, I ran into Lexi, now changed into casual clothes.

She wore an oversized black windbreaker that engulfed her frame, making her look even more delicate and adorable.

I recognized that windbreaker.

It was a limited edition Zavier had brought back last month when he'd gone location scouting in Scandinavia.

At the time, I thought he'd bought it for me, since I often shivered through night shoots.

But when I asked, he said it was a gift for an investor.

Now that "gift" was wrapped around Lexi Summers.

"Chrissy, are you leaving?"

Lexi blocked my path, her smile picture-perfect innocence.

She deliberately pulled the windbreaker tighter, the collar releasing a faint trace of the fir-scented cologne Zavier always wore.

"Zavier said it would be windy tonight and was worried I'd catch cold, so he insisted I wear his jacket. Chrissy, you don't mind, do you? Zavier said you're tough and never get cold."

Her words were like soft needles, precisely targeting my vulnerable spots.

I looked at that face, written all over with provocation disguised as innocence, and suddenly felt it was all so pointless.

"I don't mind."

I pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"It's just a jacket. If you like it, wear it. After all, I don't need someone else's hand-me-downs."

Lexi's expression froze instantly, a flash of venom in her eyes.

I didn't bother with her anymore and walked straight off the set.

I didn't go back to the apartment I shared with Zavier. Instead, I took a cab to the hospital's orthopedic department.

The doctor looked at my MRI films, his brow knotted tight.

"Miss Christie, your left meniscus is severely worn, and your shoulder ligaments show signs of old tears. If you continue doing these high-intensity stunt performances, you'll likely spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair within six months."

The doctor's voice echoed in the empty examination room like a death sentence.

"I strongly recommend you stop all strenuous activity immediately and prepare for surgery."

I sat in the chair, staring at the blurry shadows on the films, silent for a long time.

"Doctor, if I don't have surgery and only do conservative treatment, will I still be able to walk normally?"

"Walking normally, yes. But absolutely no running or jumping, and no heavy lifting."

The doctor sighed.

"You're still so young. Don't gamble with your body."

I walked out of the hospital holding the medical records. Outside, the sky had gone completely dark.

The city's neon lights flickered, but they couldn't warm my frozen hands and feet.

I tore the medical records into pieces and threw them in a nearby trash can.

No need for surgery.

Once I got to Denali Mountain, I wouldn't need to risk my life for anyone else. I'd only need to survive for myself.

Four more days.