The Price of His Devotion

Zavier is a famous director who made me work as a stunt double on his film set.

He forced me to jump from a thirty-foot platform for his mistress.

While I was trapped underwater in the freezing reservoir by the wire rigging, with my lungs running out of oxygen, all I could hear through the earpiece was him flirting and laughing with his mistress.

"If Chrissy dies, she dies. You're the one I love."

My heart turned to ash. Ten years of love had burned to nothing.

That same day, I left for Alaska to volunteer at a wildlife sanctuary in the mountains.

A year later, he was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and got on his knees to beg for my forgiveness.

I stood there with my arm around my new lover, looking down at him coldly.

"Zavier, you killed my child with your own hands and destroyed half my life. Playing the devoted lover now with what's left of yours only makes me sick."

I turned and walked away without looking back.

"In this life and every life to come, I pray I never meet you again."

Chrissy's POV

"Cut! Perfect! That's a wrap!"

With the assistant director's shout, the tension on set instantly dissipated.

I was lowered from the thirty-foot wire rigging. The moment my feet touched the ground, a stabbing pain shot through my left knee.

I couldn't keep my balance and dropped to one knee on the mud-soaked mat.

The rough blast suit choked me, making it hard to breathe.

My shoulder, where I'd just crashed into the prop wall, was already bleeding through the fabric, burning hot with pain.

Gritting my teeth, I was about to push myself up with one hand when rapid footsteps rushed past me, creating a gust of wind.

"Lexi! Are you okay? That explosion was so loud. Did it scare you?"

It was Zavier's voice.

The man I'd been with for seven years, who was now a hot new director rising in the entertainment industry.

I looked up through the crowd to see him rushing anxiously toward the rest area.

Sitting there was the female lead of this production, Lexi Summers.

She was completely clean, not even a hair out of place, just clutching her chest with slightly reddened eyes, putting on a frightened act.

"I'm fine. The blast was just so loud, my heart's still racing."

Lexi leaned toward Zavier, her voice sweet and delicate, like a startled rabbit.

Zavier didn't hesitate to pat her back gently, his tone softer than I'd heard in ages.

"Don't be scared. I'm here. Your scenes are done for today. Go rest in your trailer."

I froze in place, watching their shameless display. The blood from my shoulder seemed to flow faster, dripping down my arm into the muddy water and spreading into dark red blooms.

The crew around me was busy wrapping up. No one noticed me, the stunt double who'd just completed a dangerous high fall for Lexi Summers.

I took a deep breath, fighting through the pain in my knee, and limped toward the monitor tent.

I wanted to review the footage from that take to make sure there were no flaws in my performance.

The tent was empty. The sound engineer had probably gone to the restroom, leaving the headset carelessly tossed on the mixer.

I'd just put on the headset and hadn't even pulled up the playback when a clear conversation suddenly came through.

It was Lexi's wireless mic. She hadn't turned it off.

"Chrissy fell so hard just now. Is she going to be okay? It looked scary."

Lexi's voice carried a hint of testing the waters.

Then came the sound of Zavier lighting a cigarette. The click of the lighter was especially sharp in the quiet headset.

"What could possibly happen to her? She's tough as nails. She survived rolling down a mudslide before. This height is nothing for her. Just routine."

Zavier's tone was casual, even dismissive.

"But... she's still a woman. Aren't you being too cold to Chrissy? Won't she get upset? I heard you two used to..."

"Used to is used to."

Zavier cut her off, his voice edged with irritation.

"She's hard as a rock. Doesn't need anyone worrying about her. You think she's delicate like you? I keep her on the crew because she's useful. She knows what shots I need without me having to explain. As for feelings... they've just worn down into habit. What I feel for her is more like gratitude and obligation."

"Then... what about me?"

Lexi's voice dropped, tinged with grievance.

"You?"

Zavier let out a soft laugh, his voice suddenly lower, carrying an intimacy that made hearts race.

"You're nothing like her. She belongs in the mud. You belong in the spotlight."

I yanked off the headset. My stomach churned violently.

Gratitude? Obligation? Useful? Tough as nails?

This was the evaluation I'd earned after breaking three ribs for his independent film.

I didn't cry.

I just felt cold. A chill seeping out from my bones, instantly freezing all my emotions.

I pulled out my phone and opened a conversation I'd left untouched for a long time.

It was with the captain of the Denali Mountain Wildlife Conservation Station.

"Do you still need people for next month's assignment?"

The reply came quickly.

"Need them! Desperately! But this time we're going deep into the wilderness. You'll be out of contact for at least three years. Conditions are extremely harsh. Are you sure you've thought this through?"

I looked at the monitor showing Zavier helping Lexi into her trailer, my fingers typing steadily.

"I've thought it through. I'm signing up. I'll report to the base in five days."

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.

Chrissy's POV

Today is October twelfth.

Seven years ago on this day, Zavier took me deep into an undeveloped mountain range to film a documentary.

We were caught in a sudden mudslide. In that cramped cave, we held each other tight, thinking we would die there.

That night, he wrapped the only dry piece of clothing he had around me and swore to me with tears in his eyes.

"Chrissy, if we make it out alive, my life belongs to you. From now on, every October twelfth will be just for us. Just the two of us."

We survived.

For the first five years, he kept his promise.

No matter how busy he was, he'd cancel everything on this day to stay home with me, cook a meal together, and watch an old movie.

But starting last year, he changed.

Last year he said an investor had called an impromptu meeting he couldn't miss.

I waited for him all night, only to see him and Lexi photographed at a bar on the trending topics.

He explained it was a crew dinner. I believed him.

And this year?

I sat in the dark living room, looking at the completely cold dishes on the table. The clock on the wall pointed to eleven at night.

Heavy rain fell outside, raindrops hammering the windows with dull thuds.

I picked up my phone and called Zavier.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable."

I called three times in a row. All went unanswered.

I put down my phone and opened Instagram.

The algorithm knew me well. The first post on my feed was one Lexi had posted ten minutes ago.

The photo showed an elaborately romantic candlelit dinner table with a bouquet of bright red roses.

Across from her sat half of a man's shoulder. Though his face wasn't visible, those shirt cuffs were the ones I'd personally gone to the boutique to pick out for him last month.

The caption read.

"He said some days shouldn't be for dwelling on past suffering, but for celebrating new beginnings. Thank you for the surprise."

Location tagged: the city's most exclusive revolving restaurant.

Reading those words, my eyes suddenly stung.

Past suffering?

So our life-and-death memories had become "suffering" that needed to be abandoned in his eyes.

And Lexi Summers was his "new beginning."

I didn't smash things hysterically like some bitter woman in a TV drama. I didn't screenshot it to confront him.

I simply stood up calmly, walked to the kitchen, and dumped all the dishes I'd spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash bin, plates and all.

Then I walked into the bedroom and dragged out that black suitcase.

I started packing.

I didn't actually own much.

Over the years, I'd poured all my money and energy into Zavier's films. My closet held nothing but a few dirt-resistant athletic outfits and virtually nothing of value.

I took those mementos I'd once treasured. The replica of his first award trophy. The cross necklace we'd brought back from the church where we'd prayed together. Those slips of paper with his promises written on them. I threw them one by one into a black trash bag.

Finally, I opened a drawer and pulled out that plain ring.

He'd bought it for me with his first paycheck during our first year together.

Not expensive, but I'd worn it for seven years. It had left a deep groove on my finger.

I slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand.

No nostalgia. No reluctance.

When disappointment accumulates enough, leaving becomes instinct.

By the time I finished packing, it was two in the morning.

The living room was piled with black trash bags, while my suitcase held only a few changes of clothes and some essential medications.

I sat on the sofa, quietly listening to the rain outside the window.

Three more days.

Zavier, you're free now. And so am I.

Chrissy's POV

At three-thirty in the morning, the electronic lock at the entrance beeped.

Zavier walked in, bringing cold air and the scent of alcohol.

The living room's main lights were off, with only a dim floor lamp glowing.

His movement paused as he changed shoes, clearly noticing the several large black trash bags in the middle of the living room and me sitting silently on the sofa.

"What are you doing up in the middle of the night making a mess?"

He loosened his tie, his tone edged with impatience, and walked straight to the bar to pour himself water.

As he approached, a heavy scent of rose perfume mixed with red wine wafted over.

That was Lexi's favorite fragrance.

I lifted my eyelids and looked at him quietly.

"Cleaning out some useless things."

My voice was hoarse, completely flat.

Zavier stopped mid-drink. He turned to examine me in the dim light.

Perhaps my excessively calm demeanor unsettled him. He put down his glass, walked over to sit beside me, and reached out to put his arm around my shoulders.

"The crew had an important investor meeting today. My phone was on silent. I didn't hear your calls."

He lied smoothly, not even blinking.

"Once we get through this busy period and the film wraps, I'll spend some quality time with you, okay?"

I shifted slightly, avoiding his hand.

His hand froze in midair. His expression darkened instantly.

"Chrissy, what are you throwing a fit about now?"

Zavier's patience seemed exhausted, his voice rising several octaves.

"I already told you it was work! Can't you be reasonable? You weren't like this before. The film is at the most critical stage. Do you really have to cause trouble for me right now?"

I looked at his face, slightly twisted with anger, and suddenly found it laughable.

"Work?"

I let out a light laugh, looking straight into his eyes.

"Going to a revolving restaurant for candlelit dinner, sending red roses. That's part of work too?"

Zavier's pupils shrank sharply, panic flashing in his eyes before being replaced by anger.

"You're spying on me? You went through Lexi's Instagram?"

He shot to his feet, pointing down at me accusingly.

"Chrissy, when did you become so unreasonable? Lexi was upset today. As her director, what's wrong with comforting my actress? Why do you have to think the worst of everything?"

"Think the worst?"

I rolled the phrase around in my mouth, my heart desolate.

He'd trampled our seven years underfoot, yet turned around to accuse me of being cynical.

"Zavier, do you remember what today is?"

I didn't argue with him. I just asked that question calmly.

Zavier froze. The anger on his face solidified instantly, replaced by the awkwardness and guilt of being caught.

He opened his mouth as if to explain, but ultimately just grabbed at his hair in frustration.

"Chrissy, I'm sorry. I genuinely forgot with how busy I've been."

He sat back down, trying to take my hand, his tone softening.

"You know how important this film is to me. Once the movie wins awards, we'll get married. Just bear with me a little longer, okay? We went through life and death together. Surely that means more than some meaningless anniversary?"

Marriage.

For the past seven years, that word had been my greatest hope.

But now, coming from his mouth, it sounded like a cheap bargaining chip to cover his betrayal and neglect.

He thought that mentioning our "life-and-death bond" would make me forgive him unconditionally, just like I always had. He thought Chrissy could never leave him.

I looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Alright."

I pulled my hand back, stood up, and looked down at him.

"I understand. I won't make a scene. Get some rest. You have a big night shoot tomorrow."

Zavier clearly hadn't expected me to give in so easily. He stared blankly as I walked back to the bedroom and closed the door.

The moment the door shut, I heard him let out a long sigh of relief in the living room.

He thought he'd placated me.

But he didn't know that when a woman stops arguing with you, stops demanding explanations, that's when she's completely given up on you.

Two more days.

Chrissy's POV

The last day.

The crew was filming the final major scene at an abandoned reservoir in the suburbs. An underwater escape sequence.

In the late autumn reservoir, the water temperature was barely above forty degrees Fahrenheit.

White vapor drifted across the surface. Just looking at it sent chills through your bones.

Lexi stood on the shore wrapped in a thick down jacket, clutching a thermos, still complaining sweetly about the wind.

And I stood in the freezing water wearing only a thin white dress, weighted down with lead blocks and wire rigging, my lips purple with cold.

"All departments ready! Chrissy, after you go under, hold your breath for thirty seconds. Once we cut to Lexi's body double, struggle to the surface. Remember, the movements need to look desperate, realistic!"

Zavier sat behind the monitors, directing loudly through his walkie-talkie.

His eyes stayed glued to the screens. He didn't even glance at me once.

I took a deep breath, nodded, put in my waterproof earpiece, and plunged into the bone-chilling water.

The underwater world was silent and oppressive.

The icy current instantly stripped away what little warmth I had. My left knee and shoulder, with their old injuries, exploded with tearing pain under the cold stimulus.

I clenched my jaw, fighting through the pain, struggling underwater as directed.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds...

Time was up. I kicked hard, trying to swim upward.

But suddenly the wire rigging around my waist jammed!

Abandoned fishing nets underwater had tangled in the wire's clasps. A massive force yanked me violently back down.

I panicked, frantically pulling at the wires, shouting into the earpiece.

"Pull me up! The rigging's stuck! Pull me up!"

But what came through the earpiece was Zavier and Lexi's laughter.

"Zavier, look at that cloud. Doesn't it look like a puppy?"

Lexi's voice was bright and cheerful.

"Mm, as cute as you."

Zavier's voice was full of indulgence.

They weren't even watching the monitors!

They'd even cut my main microphone, leaving only the one-way command channel!

The oxygen in my lungs depleted rapidly. Freezing water poured into my nose and mouth.

The terror of suffocation engulfed me instantly.

I looked up at the faint light filtering down from the surface, and what flashed through my mind was every injury I'd suffered, every drop of blood I'd shed over these seven years for Zavier.

What a fool I was.

I'd nearly thrown away my life for a man like this.

Survival instinct triggered my last reserve of strength.

I pulled out the tactical knife strapped to my inner thigh. A self-defense tool a friend had just sent me yesterday.

With every ounce of strength left, I cut through the fishing net and wire rope tangled around my waist, stroke by stroke.

I broke through the surface, gulping the freezing air, coughing violently and spitting up river water streaked with blood.

Only then did the people on shore realize something was wrong.

"Chrissy! Why did you surface on your own? Where's the rigging? Do you realize you just ruined that perfect shot!"

Zavier grabbed his walkie-talkie and rushed to the shore, shouting at me furiously.

He didn't see my face. Didn't see the blood at the corner of my mouth. He only cared about his shot.

I dragged my heavy body step by step up the shore.

Icy water dripped from my hair onto the muddy ground.

I walked up to Zavier, looked at his angry face, and suddenly felt incredibly light.

I reached up, pulled the waterproof earpiece from my ear, and smashed it on the ground right in front of him.

The earpiece shattered with a sharp crack.

"Zavier, I quit."

My voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

Zavier froze, seemingly unable to process what I'd said.

"What are you losing it about? We're almost done. You're quitting now?"

"Yes. I quit."

I looked at him.

"Your movie, your leading lady. You can handle them yourself."

With that, I ignored his stunned expression and the shocked stares around us, turned, and walked straight toward a black SUV parked outside the set.

The window rolled down, revealing Captain Jack Morrison's weathered face.

"All settled?"

Jack asked.

"All settled."

I opened the door and got in.

I handed Jack my phone.

"Standard protocol. Surrendering communication devices."

Jack took the phone, powered it off, and tossed it in the glove compartment.

"Heading out. Next stop: Denali Mountain wilderness sector."

The SUV let out a low rumble, kicking up a cloud of dust, leaving behind the man I'd loved for seven years and that unbearable past, completely behind me.