You Had Me, You Lost Me, You'll Never Find Me novel Chapter 6

She hadn't even noticed. Ashton hadn't noticed. But Dr. Sterling had.

Dr. Sterling grabbed a fresh roll of gauze and meticulously re-bandaged her leg. He gave her strict instructions on how to protect herself, advising her to rely on momentum during stunts and entirely avoid engaging her core muscles.

"If you want to keep the baby, you have to come in for regular checkups," he stated firmly. He tossed the bloody bandages into the biohazard bin, his eyes profoundly calm behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

Sylvia nodded her gratitude, thanked the doctor, and accepted the bottle of prenatal vitamins he prescribed.

-

Leaving the hospital, Sylvia returned to the luxury downtown penthouse she shared with Ashton. It was time for her to rest.

Her body was utterly exhausted, but her mind was racing, making it impossible to actually sleep.

She forced herself to remember that she had a grueling day on set tomorrow and desperately needed her strength. Only then did she finally drift off.

Ashton didn't come home that night.

When Sylvia woke up the next morning, the side of the bed usually warmed by his body was icy to the touch.

She shouldn't have been surprised, but her chest still seized in agony. It felt as if a vital piece of her soul was being violently ripped away.

She checked her phone. No texts, no missed calls. In the past, no matter how late he stayed out—or if he couldn't make it home at all—he always updated her so she wouldn't worry.

Sylvia couldn't stop herself from calling him. It rang for an eternity before his voice finally crackled through the speaker. He sounded exhausted from an all-nighter. Clearly not having bothered to check the caller ID, he snapped impatiently, "What? Do you need something else?"

Sylvia lost her temper. "You vanished all night, and you're asking me if I need something?"

The man on the other end was clearly in a foul mood and refused to indulge her.

And yet, Ashton had dropped the bomb without a second thought.

Blinded by fury, she threw off the covers and stormed into the walk-in closet to pack her things. She stopped dead in her tracks. Nothing in this closet belonged to her. Every single item she wore had been personally selected and paid for by him, mostly exorbitant designer labels.

Sylvia knew nothing about high fashion, but Ashton had an immaculate eye. Everything he bought fit her flawlessly and looked breathtaking. Countless actresses on set had constantly begged her for styling tips.

There was virtually nothing in this entire penthouse that was genuinely hers. So, she left empty-handed. She tossed her keys onto the counter, taking only a single, threadbare throw pillow she had brought with her years ago—a childhood comfort she couldn't bear to leave behind.

The moment she stepped outside, her phone buzzed. A refined male voice came through the speaker. "Hello, is this Ms. Harlow? This is Ryan Winslet. I gave you my business card yesterday."

Sylvia instantly remembered the elegant stranger. "Hello. What can I do for you?"

"I'm currently on the set of The Mist. There's a character here that I think you'd be perfect for. If you have some free time, I'd love for you to come down and audition."