Chapter 55

The morning sun was just breaking over the city as Celeste guided her sleek car through traffic, Naomi in the passenger seat, sipping on her iced coffee. The air between them was calm but heavy with the knowledge of the long day ahead.

Naomi tilted her head, studying her best friend. “So,” she began carefully, “if today gets rough, what’s the quickest way for me to bring you back?”

Celeste’s fingers tightened slightly on the wheel. She hesitated before answering, her voice low. “You may not like the answer.”

Naomi arched a brow, leaning closer. “What? Like kiss you or something?” she asked, half-joking, half-testing.

Celeste glanced at her from behind her dark shades, lips curving faintly. “Yes. Kiss me.”

Naomi nearly choked on her coffee, her eyes widening as she sat back against the seat. “Again? Oh my god.” She dragged a hand down her face, groaning dramatically. “Do you know what kind of trouble that puts me in?”

Celeste smirked, her voice smooth. “Relax. It’s not like I’m asking you to mean it. Just… if I start to spiral, that shock will bring me back. It’s grounding. It works.”

Naomi shook her head, laughing in disbelief, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “Unbelievable. I signed up to be your anchor, not your… emergency kisser.”

Celeste only smirked wider, eyes back on the road. “Same thing, baby girl. Same thing.”

Naomi groaned, covering her face again. “Lord, what did I get myself into?”

The car rolled into the studio lot, Naomi still muttering under her breath about “emergency kisses” while Celeste hid her smirk behind her shades. As they stepped out, the air of the set shifted—cast and crew already buzzing for the long day ahead.

Rowan was waiting near the entrance, her hair pulled back neatly, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “Good morning, Celeste,” she said softly.

Celeste only gave her a curt nod, keeping her expression unreadable as she moved past.

Right behind her, Naomi stuck her tongue out at Rowan like a mischievous kid. Rowan’s jaw dropped, then she quickly stuck hers out in return, the silent exchange almost comical in its pettiness. Celeste caught none of it, already striding toward her dressing room.

When she opened the door, though, she froze.

The entire room was overflowing with roses—six dozen of them, arranged in vases, spilling color and fragrance into every corner. On the counter sat her favorite snacks and candy, all lined up neatly as if Rowan had memorized every craving.

In the center of it all lay a handwritten note, folded carefully.

Celeste picked it up, her fingers brushing the paper. In Rowan’s handwriting, bold and certain, it read:

I love you. Day 1 of trying to get my girl back.

Celeste exhaled slowly, her chest tight, the walls she’d put up cracking ever so slightly. Naomi leaned against the doorway, eyebrows raised. “Well, damn,” she muttered. “Looks like somebody’s trying hard.”

A knock sounded on Celeste’s door before she could even put the note down. One of the stagehands poked their head in. “Director’s calling everyone to set.”

Celeste tucked the note under her script, straightened her jacket, and slipped her shades back on. Naomi gave her a little pat on the back before they headed out.

On the soundstage, the crew bustled with last-minute adjustments, cameras sliding into place, lights warming the edges of the set. The Director clapped his hands, his voice cutting through the chatter.

“Alright, people, eyes up. Today’s a heavy one, and it’s going to take some precision. We’ll get through it, but remember don’t rush. Celeste,” his gaze landed on her with steady weight, “take it one line at a time. Don’t get lost in the weight of the scene. Stay grounded.”

Celeste gave him a small nod, her face composed, but inside she was still carrying the roses, the note, and the echoes of Naomi’s words from the car.

SCENE THIRTY-FIVE

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – ESTATE BEDROOM SET – NIGHT

The crew adjusts the lighting low, giving the room a hushed, claustrophobic tone. Cameras are locked for close-ups on Izzy’s face and a split screen with Elena.

The DIRECTOR leans in.

DIRECTOR
Scene Thirty-Five — Vega arms Izzy with knowledge. This is survival prep disguised as intimacy. Let every word feel like a promise.
(beat)
Action.

ON SET – BEDROOM

Izzy sits cross-legged on the bed, clutching the necklace and burner phone, her voice low.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
I wish you were here.

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – SAFE HOUSE SET (SPLIT SCREEN EFFECT)

ELENA VEGA (Celeste) sits in a dimly lit room, phone pressed to her ear. Her posture is sharp, her eyes tired but focused.

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
I’m out of the country on another job. But I’ll head back your way the second I’m free.

Izzy’s lips press together, her voice trembling.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
How long?

Elena exhales slowly.

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
A few days. But listen to me — in the next few days… something bad may happen.

Izzy stiffens.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
What do you mean?

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
I left things for you. Tools. Protection. Under your bed — there’s a small handgun taped to the frame. In your closet — another one. In your bathroom, under the sink, there’s a knife.

Izzy swallows hard, gripping the phone tighter.

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
There’s also a panic room button. It’s on the side of the bathroom counter. Press it, and the security doors lock down. And in the closet — behind the clothes — there’s an escape room. A tunnel out.

Izzy shakes her head, tears brimming.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
Why would I need that?

Elena’s voice lowers, sharper now.

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
Because I’m pretty sure those men are planning something. To you. And to your father. I need you to have every option available.

Izzy’s breath hitches.

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
Now repeat it back to me. Quietly.

Izzy takes a shaky breath, whispering.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
Gun taped under the bed. Another in the closet. Knife in the bathroom under the sink. Panic room button on the side of the counter. Escape room in the closet.

Elena closes her eyes, exhaling.

ELENA (IN CHARACTER)
Good girl. Keep that list in your head. Never forget it.

Izzy clutches the necklace, whispering back.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
Okay. I won’t.

The silence on the line is thick, heavy with love and danger colliding.

CUT TO: MONITOR
The split screen lingers — Izzy clutching the phone like a lifeline, Elena framed in shadows, looking like a woman torn apart by distance.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Cut.

The crew exhales, murmuring about the dread this scene leaves hanging in the air.

ON SET

Rowan wipes her eyes, staying in character even after the word “cut.” Celeste lowers the phone, her jaw set like steel.

The silence on set feels like the storm is about to hit.

FADE OUT.

SCENE THIRTY-SIX

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – ESTATE BEDROOM SET – LATE NIGHT

The lights are dim, one lamp casting a pool of gold across the bed. The crew has stripped the set to essentials: necklace, phone, shadows.

The DIRECTOR leans in, voice hushed.

DIRECTOR
Scene Thirty-Six — quiet reflection. Just her and the necklace. Let it feel like prayer, like love, like dread.
(beat)
Action.

ON SET – BEDROOM

IZZY MARQUEZ (Rowan) sits on the edge of her bed in pajamas, bare feet against the rug. The house is silent around her, too silent.

She lifts the silver heart necklace Elena gave her, the metal glinting faintly in the lamplight. Her thumb traces over it slowly, reverently.

Izzy closes her eyes, clutching it to her chest.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
(whispering)
You promised. You’ll come back.

She lies back against the pillows, holding the necklace above her face, watching it sway slightly as it catches the light.

Her breath trembles, her voice softer now, almost like a prayer.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
I love you. Please don’t let this be the last time I get to say it.

She kisses the pendant and lowers it back against her chest, fingers wrapping around it tight.

A faint sound outside the window makes her freeze — but nothing follows. She swallows hard, clutching the necklace even tighter.

Her lips move again, silent this time, mouthing Elena’s words back to herself: Good girl. Keep that list in your head. Never forget it.

She curls into the blankets, necklace still in her hand, the phone resting beside her. Her eyes flutter closed, but the tension never leaves her face.

CUT TO: MONITOR
The shot lingers: Izzy in the quiet dark, necklace clutched tight, the calm before the storm.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Cut.

SCENE THIRTY-SEVEN

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – ESTATE BEDROOM SET – NIGHT

The set is darker, shadows stretching long across the floor. The room feels suffocating. Crew holds their breath.

The DIRECTOR leans toward the monitors.

DIRECTOR
Scene Thirty-Seven — two days later. Vega silent. Izzy alone. The men make their move. She hits the distress button. Let the audience feel her fear and her last ounce of hope.
(beat)
Action.

ON SET – BEDROOM

IZZY MARQUEZ (Rowan) lies curled in bed, necklace clutched tight in her fist. The burner phone rests by her pillow, untouched, no new calls.

Her lips tremble as she whispers into the silence.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
Where are you, Elena?

The house answers with stillness.

Then— a creak outside her door. Izzy stiffens, clutching the necklace harder.

IZZY (IN CHARACTER)
Dad?

The doorknob twists. The door bursts open. Two men in dark suits rush inside.

One seizes her wrists. The other clamps a hand over her mouth. Izzy thrashes, muffled screams spilling out.

STAGE DIRECTION – CAMERA ANGLES

Close-up of Izzy’s wide, tear-filled eyes.

Tight shot on her necklace between their hands, her thumb fumbling against the heart pendant.

A faint click is heard as her thumb presses the hidden distress button.

The pendant flashes faintly once — signal sent.

Izzy keeps struggling, her cries muffled.

One man growls something in Russian as they drag her from the bed. Subtitles flash: “Don’t damage her. The boss wants her alive.”

Izzy kicks wildly, her phone sliding to the floor, screen lighting up with a missed call — Elena.

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – ESTATE HALLWAY SET – CONTINUOUS

The men yank Izzy down the hall, her bare feet scraping the floor. She fights, clawing at the walls, desperate.

STAGE DIRECTION – CAMERA ANGLES

Close-up on her necklace again — still faintly glowing, silent proof her signal is out.

Overhead shot of her body being dragged, sheets trailing from her bed.

Another man mutters in Russian, cold and certain. Subtitles flash: “She won’t fight for long.”

Izzy’s eyes are wild — terrified but clinging to the hope that her signal reached Elena.

CUT TO: MONITOR
The frame freezes on her necklace flashing against her chest as she disappears into the dark.

DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Cut!

The crew exhales, shaken. Someone mutters, “That gave me chills.”

The cameras finished rolling on the latest take, and the Director leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his temples before clicking the intercom.

“Alright, that’s a cut.” He exhaled, then looked directly toward Celeste. His tone softened, carrying weight and concern. “Celeste, take fifteen. Step outside, breathe. The next scenes coming up are going to tug at your heartstrings, and I need you steady for them. Don’t carry this one too heavy save it for where it counts.”

The crew began resetting lights and sound, chatter filling the stage again. Naomi was at Celeste’s side instantly, pressing a cold water bottle into her hand. Celeste gave her a grateful half-smile, shoulders tight but her eyes showing a flicker of warmth.

“Fifteen minutes,” Naomi murmured, looping an arm through hers. “Let’s go breathe.”

Celeste nodded once, quietly slipping off the set with Naomi at her side, her mind already bracing for the storm to come.