Chapter 2

2.

I went home and opened my laptop, pulling up the budget sheet from the production office.

Lead actor's fee, director's fee, DP's salary―everything was laid out in black and white.

The writing column had my name―no, it said "Associate Writer" Nora Sterling.

My share was a measly three percent.

Seth's share was fifteen percent.

Jocelyn's was twelve percent―her "acting fee" plus a "script adaptation bonus."

Adaptation? What did she adapt?

She changed one word in the third act. She said it had more "emotional weight."

The producers ate it up because her name carries clout.

I closed the email and opened the folder containing every version of the script.

Draft one: eight months ago. File name: "Rainy Days v1_Nora Sterling."

Draft two: seven and a half months ago.

Draft three: seven months ago.

All the way to Draft six: two weeks ago. File name: "Rainy Days v6_Nora Sterling."

Every version had a timestamp. Every version was my blood and sweat.

I compressed the folder, encrypted it, and backed it up to a secure drive.

Then I opened another folder labeled "Past Projects."

It contained the raw files of every script I had ever written for him.

Twelve folders. Twelve scripts.

I clicked one at random and looked at the first page.

The first line read: "Scene One. Interior. Daytime."

I wrote that. I wrote every single word he ever claimed.

I closed the folder.

Then I opened a blank document and typed one sentence:

"If I stop writing, can they even finish this movie?"

I stared at that line for a few minutes before hitting delete.

They would try. They have Jocelyn. She's an "adapter" now, right?

I shut my laptop and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

The sound of the tab popping was deafening in the quiet kitchen.

Seth wasn't home yet. He'd been coming back after midnight lately.

Once filming starts, he spends more time on set than in our bed.

I finished the beer alone in the dark living room.

Then I opened my computer again and started writing the seventh draft.