Cut! My Revenge Arc Starts Now - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Bruce Johnson's frantic call had me dropping everything and racing across town like my life depended on it.
His voice was sharp with panic. "Ysabelle, get over here now, or I'm dead!"
I abandoned my client mid-meeting, ignoring the stunned stares as I bolted out the door.
What should've been an hour-long drive turned into a thirty-minute adrenaline-fueled sprint. I pushed the speedometer to its limit, heart pounding the whole way.
But when I finally burst in, out of breath and disheveled, Bruce was lounging in his chair, smirking at the crew like he'd just won the lottery.
"Told you guys," he gloated, "nothing's more important to her than me."
He caught the murderous look in my eyes and had the nerve to shrug, flashing that infuriating grin. "Relax, it was just a joke."
The room erupted in laughter. "What can you do? Bruce owns her heart," someone snickered.
Their mocking words hit me like a slap. To them, I was just Bruce's loyal lapdog—ready to jump at his every command, no matter how ridiculous.
So when I turned to the director and said, "Replace Bruce as the lead. I'll kiss someone else," the room went dead silent.
Bruce's smirk vanished. "What the hell, Ysabelle?"
But I was already storming off, my blood boiling.
The second I barged into the makeup room, the crew burst out laughing again. And there he was—my so-called childhood friend—lounging with his phone, that same smug amusement playing on his lips.
That's when it hit me.
This was all a game to him.
The crew, always eager to kiss up to the star, didn't hold back.
"Damn, Bruce has her wrapped around his finger. We should take notes."
"This is nothing. She'd crawl through fire if he asked."
"Training a dog would be harder than this."
Their words cut deep, but I kept my face blank, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.
Bruce finally put his phone down, shooting them a half-hearted glare before turning to me with that patronizing smile.
"Don't listen to them, Ysabelle. Just messing with you."
He reached out to ruffle my hair like I was some obedient pet who'd performed a trick.
And the worst part? He knew I'd let him. Because for years, my world had revolved around him.
"What was so urgent?" I forced out.
He blinked, as if surprised I'd even ask. "Oh, right. Can you grab me a latte? Skim milk, double shot."
"That's it?" My voice was dangerously quiet.
Bruce just shrugged. "Yeah? What else?"
"You dragged me across town for a coffee?" I hissed through gritted teeth.
He rolled his eyes. "Come on, you're my assistant."
Someone snorted. "Assistant? Please. She wishes she was Gianna."
Gianna. His precious girlfriend. The one who got the title of "girlfriend" while I got "errand girl."
Bruce didn't even flinch. "Gia doesn't do grunt work."
Of course not. That was my job.
I studied his face—the same face I'd known since we were kids. But the boy who once rushed to my side when I was sick, who clumsily tried to make me brown sugar water, was gone.
Back then, he'd looked at me like I mattered.
Now?
I was just the punchline to his joke.