/Zane's POV/
Getting home to find Madison completely absorbed in one of Allison's movies left me with a strange feeling. It had been a hellish week—dealing with hyenas waiting for any chance to tear me apart.
I still hadn't faced Elias after his outrageous claim, mostly because I wasn't sure I could do it without actually killing him. And for some reason, Jones—the director who'd always been friendly with me—had suddenly stopped taking my calls.
It's almost hilarious. The man seems to have forgotten that I could practically end his career if I wanted to. If he's gone this far, then he must have found someone powerful enough to back him. He probably thinks he can get away with screwing me over.
Rumour has it he's been in touch with Darlington Entertainment. Associating himself with my rival might give him a false sense of security, but that won't save him if he's messing with me.
Not only did he pay the penalty charges, he practically cut us off clean. and now he's pretending he can stand on his own. Our relationship was always transactional, so if he's making such a move, it means Darlington's offering him a lot more—or there's something else I'm not seeing.
But all those worries instantly disappeared the moment I stepped into my house. The walk up the stairs was tedious, but the fatigue seemed to relent the moment I took a seat at the foot of the sofa, just right next to Madison.
For some reason, being around Madison always does that. She has this quiet presence—you barely notice her until she's gone, and then the silence feels heavier without her.
Maybe it's her calmness, or the effortless confidence she carries, like someone who's learned to adapt to anything life throws at her.
I'd never seen anyone adjust so quickly. I even sent someone to the bar she owns, curious to learn more about her after that video she made with Ayanna—telling Allison's fans and telling them she's still badly hurt and would take some time to recover, so they shouldn't expect her on the big screen soon.
She planted the idea that she was on vacation back in her hometown, the report I got back impressed me. Madison's smart.
The look, gestures, and mannerisms—even her tiny little habits—it was like watching Allison on screen again. It's uncanny, almost impossible to imitate someone like that. If acting's a trait, then it definitely runs in the family.
The backlash from Allison's stabbing was manageable. The losses we took from the delay were recoverable within a month. Not that Allison wasn't valuable, but my company knows how to manage talents. Still, Madison's a diamond in the rough—and that six-minute video she made proved it. I couldn't stop wanting to see what more she could do.
Curiosity led me to propose the deal for her to take over Allison's roles for now, at least until the investigation's over. I knew she could pull it off. She's still rough around the edges, but I could polish that.
Watching her contemplate the deal sent a thrill of panic down my spine, and the relief I felt when she agreed is hard to put into words. But I could tell Madison didn't agree because she was tempted by the benefits that came with the deal—she probably thought it'd help with the investigation, if anything.
It was hard to take my eyes off her as she watched the TV, completely unbothered by my presence, just a few canned beers away from her.
Her skin looked even healthier now, her hair a little longer, though it still didn't match Allison's in length.
I overheard her turning down Aya's request to have her brows carved, so I guess that explains the slightly bushy brows—but it suits her. She probably has no idea how pretty she is, or she just can't be bothered.
Intel I got from the person I sent over to her bar proved she was really single. There's quite the tale of her casual flings, though, so I'm guessing she's not the type to settle.
"So, what do you think of the conclusion of the movie?" I asked, breaking the silence that had settled over us as we both focused on the screen.
When I turned, Madison was fast asleep, her head slumped against the sofa, mumbling something I couldn't quite catch. I leaned closer.
"Leo," she mumbled in her sleep, leaving me wondering who the hell that was..
I should probably get her to bed, I decided, ignoring the question. But as I tried to lift her off the sofa, she toppled forward—right onto me—leaving me paralysed for a few seconds.
"This is uncomfortable," I muttered as she slipped out of my hold and curled up on the floor, hugging a half-empty beer can to her chest.
Never thought she had such a cute side to her. I stifled a laugh. I'd seen Allison sleep plenty of times, but she was never this messy. Madison, though—she was chaos, sprawled out with her hair in tangles and her arms wrapped around beer cans like they were plush toys.
"Maddy," I shook her gently.
"Stop it, Leo," she mumbled again, swatting my hand away before curling up tighter, accidentally dragging more cans into her arms.
She looked absolutely ridiculous. I stifled another laugh.
But the name stuck in my head. Who the hell was Leo? I thought she said she didn't have a boyfriend. Then again, she's a grown woman. She's allowed to have a life… so why the hell does that bother me?
Probably just concern. Anything else would be ridiculous. I convinced myself it was about professionalism—that any distraction could jeopardise our plan. Still, prying those cans out of her grip took more effort than half the meetings I've had this week.
Exhausted, I dropped beside her, out of breath and maybe a little tipsy. My eyelids grew heavy. I meant to close them for a minute but ended up passing out completely.
Exhausted, I dropped beside her, out of breath and maybe a little tipsy. My eyelids grew heavy. I meant to close them for a minute but ended up passing out completely.
When I woke up, Madison was gone, and I was back in my room. My head pounded mercilessly, and my neck ached again. Maybe it's time I drop by Richard's after all.
I was on my way to get coffee when I found Madison by the dining table, already having breakfast.
"Morning," she beamed. I was going to respond, except my eyes caught on a mark on her neck, visible through the oversized T-shirt that slipped off one shoulder.
Wait—was that a hickey?
"Zane." Her call snapped my attention back.
"Sorry, I'm barely awake. Good morning, Maddy. I see you beat me to breakfast again," I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
"I always beat you to breakfast," She jeered.
"Not always. You oversleep sometimes," I countered with a shrug, and she threw me a glare in response.
"So, when will you be ready for a public appearance? We briefly talked about it last night but never got to decide how to go about it."
That damn hickey's distracting, I thought, trying hard to look away from the red patch on her neck. When she turned, there was another one just above her boobs—I tore my eyes away as she stood to wash her cereal bowl.
Heat rose to my face. Seriously, I didn't mean to stare there. Now I can't get it out of my head.
Just how did that get there? Did she go out early? I mean, it's Saturday morning—she might have gone out. Still, it could become a problem, especially when she looks this much like Allison.
I wanted to say something, but I couldn't get the words out.
"Okay, good talk," Madison concluded with a forced grin before retreating to her room.
Fuck! I missed the last thing she said.
What the hell's wrong with me? I wondered, making my way to her bedroom.
I knocked on her door. "Maddy?" I knocked again until she pulled the door wide open.
She opened it, arms folded, looking slightly amused.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said," I admitted ruefully, and she sighed softly.
"I was asking what the plan was. I'm not really the type to make plans, but I follow them well," she clarified, tilting her head.
"A friend of mine will be coming by this afternoon. He wants to question you about what happened—"
"Look, lying that I have any idea what happened will eventually blow up in our faces," she warned.
"But—"
"Why claim I remember when I don't? We can just say I forgot everything." A small, sly smile played on her lips.
"Are you trying to feign memory loss?" I guessed, and she nodded.
I considered it, and honestly, I couldn't think of a better plan.
"It won't just be the police asking questions," she continued. "Everyone Allison knows will start showing up. Once I start living her life, it's inevitable. But pretending I've lost my memory is the best option. You'll just need a doctor to back up the story."
I raised an eyebrow. "But you said you don't make plans."
"I used to suck at it. Probably still do—my boss would agree," she said with a faint smile.
"Your boss?"
"It's nothing," she replied quickly. It didn't sound like nothing, though, but she probably didn't want to talk about it.
My gaze drifted back to the mark on her neck. My jaw tightened.
"Have you been seeing someone?"
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