Chapter 5

Michael wandered through the streets aimlessly. He felt lost, aimless, and hopeless, and his emotional state was a mess. After walking for a while, he paused as he remembered something.

Wait a fucking minute. He realized with a jolt that the house he'd just left was his. The one who should have been leaving wasn't him. It was them.

He grated his teeth in fury, and before he could turn back, his phone buzzed. He cursed under his breath and answered, It was his assistant Claire.

“Hello.” He said it with an impatient tone.

“Sir, the arrangements for the new movie are complete. Your wife is confirmed as the female lead, and everything's in place, just as you requested.”Claire's professional voice said through the receiver.

“She's not my wife anymore.” Michael said with a voice so cold, Claire shivered on the other side. “We are divorced.”

Silence settled on the other end. Claire was stunned by the news, and for a moment, her thought process refused to cooperate with her as it ceased completely. 

“You there?” Michael's voice brought her back to reality, and excitement surged through her; however, she managed to compose herself.

“I'm here. I'm so... sorry to hear that, sir,” she finally managed to say, forcing a note of sympathy into her tone. “If there's anything I can do...”

“Just handle it.” Michael interrupted her; it was clear from his tone that he was in no mood to talk, and so Claire decided to let him be.

“Of course, sir. Right away.” She barely managed to finish the sentence before the call ended.

As soon as the line went dead, a huge grin broke out on her face, and she leaped from her chair and broke into a wild dance.

Finally, finally, he's free. She thought as she danced happily around the office. Turns out, she had a huge crush on Michael for a long time, but after his marriage, she forced those feelings down, but now that he was free, they surged up like a geyser.

After a few moments of wild dancing, she calmed herself down, straightened her clothes, and took a deep breath. She needed to act quickly, and so she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the director in charge of the upcoming movie.

“Hello?” The director's deep voice crackled on the line.

“It's Claire. We're making improntu changes. You'll change the casting for the female lead.” She said with a businesslike tone.

“Change? But everything's already... ”

“Bianca’s out,” she cut him off sharply. “Effective immediately. And I don’t want her cast in any of our future projects, either. Understood?”

There was a pause on the other end, as the director was clearly taken aback. Everything was set, and this sudden change of plan would set them back significantly.

“But….why? Is there a reason?”

“Doesn't matter. Just follow the order,” Claire snapped, clearly not in the mood to explain. The director hesitated, but in the end he knew better than to argue.

“Understood.” He finally replied, and Claire smiled in satisfaction, hanging up. She knew Bianca's acting had never been anything special, just another pretty face in an industry full of them. And now, with her out of the picture, Claire’s path to Michael was wide open.

Michael continued to wander aimlessly. He had no particular destination in mind, but he found himself drawn to the one place that had always brought him a sense of peace—tthe cemetary where his mother was buried.

He walked towards the cemetery and appreciated the peace and quiet that he felt. He walked the familiar path to his mother's grave, and soon enough, he stood in front of the headstone, staring down at the inscription.

“Mom, I've failed. I’ve lost her.” He whispered, clenching his fists in his pockets.

He sank to his knees, head facing the earth, and shoulders slumped. The tears he held started trickling down his cheeks.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, giving her the life she wanted. But it wasn't enough; I wasn't enough.

Michael stayed there for a while, soaking in the silence of the cemetery, when suddenly he heard something. It was faint at first, but it grew louder, and Michael's eyes widened.

It was a cry for help.

Michael's head snapped up, and his senses were alert. He quickly rose to his feet and followed the sound, which led him deeper into the cemetery. He rounded a corner and tracked the source of the voice. Right there in the dark, were four men trying to take advantage of a young woman as they cornered her against a stone wall.

“Get off me! Someone help!” the woman screamed desperately.

“Let her go.” Michael screamed at them, drawing their attention. He didn't have to intervene; he had the option of turning a blind eye, but all the frustration and rage he felt hadn't vented out came surging to surface, and now he wanted nothing but violence.

“Who the hell are you?” The man turned around and sneered at him.

Michael didn't answer; instead, he moved like a blur as he closed the distance between them. The first man barely had anytime to react before Michael's fist connected with his jaw; the force of the punch sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

The second man lunged at Michael with a knife, but he sidestepped him easily, grabbing his wrist and twisting it with a bone-crushing force. The knife fell to the ground, and his arm snapped under the pressure, which made him scream out in agony, but Michael wasn't done. He followed up with a swift kick to his ribs, which sent him kissing earth.

The third man tried to tackle Michael, but he was met with an elbow to the face. The man staggered back, his vision blurred, but Michael used that opportunity to finish him off with an uppercut.

The last man grabbed the knife on the floor, roaring and swinging wildly, but Michael dodged, taking him by surprise with a wicked punch to the stomach before finally landing a devastating kick to his cranium, effectively blanking him out.

“Pheww.” Michael wiped the sweat from his brows as he surveyed the unconscious men on the floor. With a scoff, his attention turned back to the woman they had cornered.

Just as he walked towards the woman, his instincts kicked in and he twisted his body, but he wasn't fast enough. Apparently, one of the thugs almost sneaked up on Michael, and if it wasn't for his senses, Michael could have been severely injured.

The knife sliced across his side, cutting through his shirt and grazing his skin, but he ignored the pain and grabbed the man's wrist in a crushing grip, twisting the knife out of his hands.

Before the thug could react, Michael bent him over and delivered a wicked knee to his gut, followed by a forceful elbow to the back of his head. The man's eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground, sinking into unconsciousness once more. 

“Shit.” Michael cursed under his breath as he placed a hand on his side, feeling the warmth of his blood seeping through his fingers. It was a shallow wound, nothing too serious, but it would need tending too later.

“Are you okay?” Michael turned and asked the woman, but he was taken aback when he saw the rage on her face.

“Okay?” She spat, “No, I'm not okay.”

She stood up and stepped past Michael, walking towards the men Michael had effortlessly. Michael felt a tingling sensation in between his legs, and somehow he knew what was about to happen. As if confirming his suspicions, the woman stood in front of one of the unconscious men and raised her foot.

“Oh no!” Michael closed his eyes as the lady brought down her foot hard between the man's legs. A sickening crunch sounded out, and Michael winced as if he were the one the lady had kicked. The thug let out a pained moan even while he was unconscious.

Michael opened his eyes a little and saw her moving to the next man. She did this for all four men, crushing their balls with her heels, and only then was she able to calm down.

“They deserve worse,” she muttered, wiping a tear from her cheek as she turned to Michael. “Thank you for your help and sorry you had to see that; I needed to do it.”