Now He Begs for Me Back

The crowd erupted in cheers beneath the city lights, their voices blending with the pulsing thrum of music and camera flashes. I sat on a cold bench at the edge of the square, my eyes locked on the giant screen above. There he was—Matthew Flores, basking in the glow of fame, flashing the same effortless smile that once made me believe in forever.

He wasn’t alone.

Debbie Pearson, the eversoperfect costar, perched beside him like she belonged in that spotlight with him. Their bodies leaned toward each other, casual yet intimate, a silent declaration captured for the whole world to see.

Then came his words.

“We just couldn’t keep it a secret anymore,” Matthew said, slipping his arm around her like it had always belonged there.

My breath caught.

The interviewer beamed. “You two look amazing together. How long has this been going on?”

There was a pause. Matthew exchanged a glance with Debbie, his expression soft, adoring.

“A while now,” he answered. “Long enough to know she’s the one.”

The one.

The words hit harder than I expected. My knees buckled, and I sank into the bench as the crowd’s laughter and applause turned into a distant hum, the world spinning around me.

Just hours earlier, I had held Matthew’s jacket in my hands, smiling to myself as I imagined his reaction to my surprise. I was doing laundry—mundane, ordinary—and I thought I’d find spare change or maybe another receipt for overpriced coffee. What I didn’t expect was a red lace thong and a tube of lipstick buried deep in the pocket.

Neither belonged to me.

I didn’t need to ask whose they were. The answer was already flaunting herself on the screen, laughing beside my husband as if she had earned that place beside him.

I stumbled backward from the laundry basket, the items dangling between my trembling fingers like poison. A laugh—sharp and bitter—escaped me.

“Five years…” I whispered to the empty room, tears falling freely.

Five years of loving him in silence. Five years of hiding in the background, of being the faceless woman behind the man on every magazine cover. Five years of playing the loyal wife under the illusion that what we had was real.

And tonight… Tonight may have been for us.

I had planned the evening down to the last detail. A quiet dinner after the premiere. A new car waiting in the garage, wrapped with a bow. But more than that—more than anything—I had been ready to share the news.

I was pregnant.

Our baby. I had clutched the test earlier that morning with both fear and excitement, picturing his reaction, imagining the joy in his eyes.

But none of it mattered anymore.

I left the house in a blur, the red lace crumpled in my fist, fury and heartbreak clashing in my chest as I drove toward the city. I didn’t think—I just moved, fueled by instinct and devastation. And now I was here, watching him declare his love for another woman in front of thousands.

How had I let it go this far?

Matthew had always said secrecy was necessary. “The contract, Jillian,” he’d remind me. “It’s all about the image. We can’t go public yet.”

Like a fool, I had agreed. I let him write me out of the story of his life. I had accepted being hidden, being unacknowledged. I thought I was protecting something precious.

But I wasn’t. I was being erased.

And suddenly, something shifted inside me—cold and sharp and unstoppable.

I grabbed my phone, hands shaking, and opened a new account. Anonymous. Untraceable. I picked a name that sounded like someone in the know—someone credible, close to the industry. The profile picture was vague but believable.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then began typing.

BREAKING: While Matthew Flores and Debbie Pearson put on a show of romance for the cameras, sources confirm a shocking twist behind the scenes. A woman—long hidden—carries his child.

My breath hitched as I added more:

Exclusive photos and private messages reveal the truth behind Matthew’s carefully crafted image. The perfect leading man? Think again.

I hesitated only for a second before uploading the photo of the test. The same one I had planned to giftwrap just hours ago.

This wasn’t revenge.

It was the truth.

With one final breath, I hit post. My heart thundered in my ears as the screen confirmed it had gone live.

The world would know. He had made me invisible for years, but not anymore.

I pulled out my phone again and hit redial. When my brother answered, I didn’t let him speak.

“Brother, I’m done hiding my identity. I’m ready to take over,” I said, voice steady, steel running through every syllable. “And I’ll marry the man you wanted me to.”

Then I ended the call, clutching the phone tightly as the lights of the city swirled around me. I had been betrayed, broken—but not defeated.

Let the games begin.

I sat motionless on the couch, gazing at the city lights from my apartment window. The post I had published earlier that day had exploded, now dominating every major gossip site and social media platform. My phone buzzed on the coffee table, but I left it untouched, the vibrations feeling like distant echoes in the chaos of my mind.

Suddenly, the door crashed open.

“Jillian!” Matthew’s voice roared, filled with anger, as he stormed into the room.

I didn’t move. I didn’t even acknowledge him at first, my eyes fixed on the empty space in front of me. "What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

He slammed the door behind him, his face flushed with rage. “Cut the act. Did you post that crap about me online?” His words were sharp, accusing.

I tilted my head slightly, feigning innocence. “What post?” I asked, keeping the confusion in my voice.

His fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes narrowed with frustration.

“Don’t pretend, Jillian. It’s all over the internet—people are saying I’ve gotten some woman pregnant. Do you have any idea how much this is going to ruin me?”

I shrugged, leaning back on the couch and crossing my arms. “Sounds like a problem for you to deal with, Matthew. Maybe you should find out who’s behind it.”

He took a step closer, his eyes hardening. “Are you pregnant?”

The question hung in the air, cold and accusing.

“No,” I lied smoothly, my tone steady. “Why would you think that? Didn’t you always tell me not to get pregnant?”

His gaze drilled into me, searching for any crack in my facade. “You better not be,” he hissed. “Because if you are, I’ll make sure no one ever knows about it. I’m not letting anyone ruin my premiere.”

I could feel my stomach twist, but I kept my face neutral.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked, my voice laced with disdain. "Is it not true, Matthew? Haven’t you lied to me, used me, and then turned around to announce your relationship with Debbie like nothing happened?"

For a brief moment, his expression faltered, but he quickly recovered, standing taller. “That’s not the way it looks. The thing with Debbie, it’s just for the publicity. You know how this business works.”

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Do I? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re juggling it all—your career, your perfect public image, and Debbie on the side.”

His voice softened as he stepped closer, reaching for my hand. “Jillian, you’re overreacting. None of this is what it seems. You’ve always been the one for me.”

I remained silent, letting the weight of his words hang in the air until he spoke again.

“The movie’s what matters right now,” he said, his tone shifting. “Once we get through this, we’ll focus on us. We’ll talk about marriage. I promise.”

I nodded slightly, pretending to believe his empty promises. “Sure, Matthew. Whatever you say.”

“Good,” he said, his smile returning as if everything was fine. “How about dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us. We can talk more then.”

Before I could respond, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, his expression hardening. “I need to take this,” he said, his voice cold, already heading for the door.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. Debbie’s name flashed on the screen as Matthew answered, his voice taking on that familiar affectionate tone.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his warmth unmistakable as he stepped out into the hallway.

No goodbye, no glance back.

That was it.

The moment the door clicked shut, I stood up, my mind set. I began packing my things in silence, not looking back once.

When I stepped outside, a sleek black limousine waited for me. I climbed in, the door closing behind me with a soft thud. My phone buzzed again, and I looked at the screen. It was Stephen.

“Jillian,” he said, his voice full of concern. “I’ve heard things. Were you and Matthew really together?”

I hesitated, my heart heavy. “Yes,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause before Stephen spoke again, the bitterness clear in his tone. “And you didn’t tell me? Why?”

“Because Matthew told me not to,” I said, the words coming out with little emotion. “It would’ve messed with his contract. He said it was for the best.”

A short laugh escaped Stephen. “And now? Now you see how he used you, don’t you?”

“I see it,” I said firmly. “And I want him to pay.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Pull our investments from his agency,” I said, the decision coming naturally. “And ruin the movie. I don’t care how. Just make it fail.”

“Consider it done.”

For the first time in days, a sense of satisfaction filled me.

Before heading back to the family estate, I made one last stop.

The hospital came into view as the limousine pulled into the parking lot. My hands shook slightly as I stepped out, the gravity of what I was about to do settling deep in my chest. It wasn’t just about Matthew anymore. It was about me, and this baby didn’t deserve to be part of his selfish world. I had to make the choice. There was no going back.

Several days had gone by since Matthew stormed into my apartment, furious over the viral post. Yet, not once had he bothered to reach out to check on me after that. It was clear. He didn’t care.

That realization hit me like a slap, a harsh truth I could no longer ignore. I had wasted years of my life, sacrificing my own happiness for someone who wouldn’t even make sure I was okay.

I let my eyes wander to the television, where the muted screen flickered with the usual noise. I hadn’t bothered turning up the volume—it was always the same. Matthew and Debbie, their movie, their scandal, and the endless ripple effect from it all. But today, something caught my attention.

I reached for the remote, my heart racing as I turned the volume up, eager to hear the latest. The reporter’s voice filled the quiet space, and I listened intently.

"Breaking news: Matthew Flores and Debbie Pearson’s highly anticipated movie has flopped at the box office, with both critics and audiences turning away amidst the escalating scandal."

I leaned forward, my grip tightening on the remote as the broadcast continued.

"The backlash has been swift. Fans are accusing Matthew of deceiving them, while Debbie has been harshly criticized for her involvement in the rumored affair. Major endorsement deals have been withdrawn, and sources close to Debbie suggest she’s struggling to cope with the public fallout."

A photo of Matthew and Debbie appeared on screen, both looking visibly distressed. The words continued to pour in, a steady stream of betrayal and scandal.

"In a recent interview, Matthew Flores denied the pregnancy rumors, calling them a ‘baseless attack on my character.’ He added, ‘If the woman behind this has any proof, she should come forward and stop hiding behind a screen trying to destroy my career.’"

I couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh that escaped me. Baseless? Proof? They wanted proof?

Fine. I would give them proof.

Hours passed as I sat at my desk, typing the article that would expose everything.

I began with the truth.

"My name is Jillian Brennan, heiress to the Brennan Corporation. For five years, I kept my relationship with actor Matthew Flores a secret, hidden from the public eye due to his contract restrictions. During that time, I supported him in every way I could, sacrificing my own dreams and career to help him achieve his goals."

I attached the photos—ones he thought would never see the light of day. Pictures of us together: laughing over private dinners, walking hand in hand, and a few candid moments he never realized I had captured.

I included the receipts: the pregnancy test, the car keys I had planned to give him, everything.

Then I laid bare his lies.

"Recently, I discovered that Matthew had been using me for years, intending to discard me once he had achieved his goals. His public relationship with Debbie Pearson was nothing but a betrayal. He promised me love while secretly plotting to replace me. I’ve attached recordings and messages that prove his true intentions."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. The evidence was undeniable.

With a final breath, I pressed “publish.”

The article spread like wildfire.

Within minutes, my phone began buzzing nonstop—headlines popping up, social media feeds flooded with comments, and news outlets all across the board picking up the story.

“Jillian Brennan Exposes Matthew Flores!”

“Brennan Corporation Heiress Breaks Silence on FiveYear Relationship with Matthew Flores!”

“Scandal Deepens: Proof of Betrayal and Lies!”

The public’s reaction was immediate and unforgiving.

“I always knew Matthew was shady!”

“This poor woman, used and abandoned—he thought he could get away with it.”

“Matthew and Debbie deserve each other—both liars caught redhanded.”

I sat back and watched as the chaos erupted around me, the storm I had set in motion.

Then, my phone rang. It was Matthew’s name flashing across the screen.

I ignored it.

It rang again. Then a third time.

Finally, I answered, my voice cold and unyielding. “What do you want?”

“Jillian, what the hell is wrong with you?” His voice was a mix of fury and disbelief. “Why would you do this? Why would you lie like that?”

“Lie?” I replied, a sarcastic edge creeping into my tone. “What exactly did I lie about, Matthew? The photos? The messages? Or the fact that you were planning to dispose of me once you started your own agency?”

There was a long pause, the silence thick with tension before he spoke again, his voice shaking with anger. “You have no idea what you’ve done! You’ve destroyed my career! Do you understand that? Do you even care?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Care? Matthew, you didn’t care about me for five years. You used me, lied to me, and then flaunted your relationship with Debbie like I didn’t even exist. So no, I don’t care about your career.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, trying to reason with me.

“And let you walk away scotfree?” I shot back, my voice cutting through the air. “Not a chance.”

He took a shaky breath. “Jillian, please. We can fix this. I’ll make it right. Just take the article down.”

Before he could continue, I said, “Enjoy your downfall,” and ended the call, blocking his number for good.

Five years ago, I had everything I needed to launch my own career. A lead role in a bigbudget romance film was within my grasp—a role I’d dreamed of, one that could’ve made me a household name. The script was perfect, the opportunity rare.

But then Matthew happened.

“You can’t take this role, Jillian,” he’d said, leaning against the kitchen counter with that disarming smile of his.

I’d frowned. “Why not? Matthew, this could change my life.”

He shook his head, taking my hands in his. “You know how the industry works. If we’re seen together, people will start asking questions. I can’t risk breaking my contract. Not right now.”

“But Matthew,” I protested, “I’ve been waiting for something like this for years. It’s not fair.”

His expression softened, but his words didn’t. “I need you, Jillian. Behind the scenes. You’ve always been my rock. We’re in this together, remember? Your time will come.”

And just like that, I let the role slip away.

Not long after, it was handed to Debbie Pearson.

At the time, I told myself it didn’t matter. I loved Matthew, and if supporting him meant putting my dreams on hold, then so be it. But looking back now, I realized the truth: Matthew had been into Debbie from the start, and I had been nothing but a convenient tool in his rise to stardom.

But that version of Jillian—the one who gave up everything for him—was long gone.

I sat in the grand living room of our estate. My phone buzzed with notifications about the ongoing fallout from Matthew’s scandal, but I ignored it.

While scrolling through my tablet, a message from Stephen caught my attention.

“We’re working on securing the cast for an upcoming romanceaction adaptation. Heard it’s going to be a huge hit. You should audition.”

A spark of interest flickered in me. I opened the attachment Stephen had sent, detailing the project. It was a muchanticipated adaptation of a bestselling novel, and the original cast had been Matthew and Debbie.

But with the scandal, the director was looking to recast.

I smiled to myself.

I called Stephen. “Send me the script,” I said. “I want to audition.”

The day of the audition arrived, and I walked into the bustling theater where it was being held. Women crowded the lobby, their chatter filling the air as they rehearsed lines and adjusted their outfits.

I kept my head down, blending into the crowd. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to accuse me of using my family connections.

When my name was finally called, I stepped onto the stage, my heart pounding.

The script felt natural in my hands, and as I delivered the lines, the world around me faded. When I finished, the room fell silent for a moment before erupting into applause.

The judges exchanged whispers, nodding in approval. One of them leaned forward, narrowing their eyes. “You’re Jillian Brennan, aren’t you? The rising star from years ago?”

I nodded, offering a polite smile.

“Well, Miss Brennan,” he said, “you haven’t lost your touch. That was exceptional.”

The praise filled me with a sense of validation I hadn’t felt in years.

Hours passed as the judges deliberated. I waited in the corner of the room, avoiding the stares of the other actresses. But I could hear their murmurs. I didn’t care. All I wanted is to show Matthew and Debbie that I could take back the life they had stole from me.

Finally, the director appeared, holding a clipboard. The room fell silent in anticipation.

But before he could speak, the door burst open.

Debbie stormed in, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The sound echoed through the room, cutting through the low hum of conversation. Her designer outfit clung perfectly to her, her makeup impeccable. It was as if the recent scandal hadn’t touched her—like she’d willed the world to forget.

I couldn’t believe how she still managed to hold her head high. Her confidence was infuriating.

The other aspiring actresses began whispering.

“Can you believe she showed up here?” one woman murmured, her hand over her mouth as if hiding her words made them less noticeable.

“I thought her career was over after that scandal with Matthew,” another added, shooting a sharp look toward Debbie’s perfectly styled hair.

“Honestly, it’s embarrassing. Does she think she still owns this role?” someone else scoffed, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. “Maybe she just wants to pick a fight with Jillian Brennan.”

I stayed seated, silent, watching her every move.

“She shouldn’t even be here,” a woman whispered just loud enough for the murmurs to carry. “Doesn’t she know the studio already decided to replace her?”

Debbie’s head snapped in the direction of the comment, her jaw clenching.

“I do know,” Debbie said loudly, silencing the room. “And that decision was a mistake.”

The director’s brow furrowed. “Miss Pearson, what are you doing here?”

“This is my role,” she snapped. “There shouldn’t even be an audition. Everyone knows I’m the lead. This is ridiculous.”

The director’s expression hardened. “We’ve already discussed this, Debbie. The studio decided to recast. Your involvement is no longer an option.”

Debbie laughed bitterly. “Recast? With who? Who could possibly replace me? I am the best in this field and you can’t do this to me!”

Her eyes scanned the room, daring anyone to meet her gaze.

The director turned to the side and gestured for me to step forward. “Meet your replacement.”

Debbie’s eyes locked onto me, widening in shock.

“You,” she hissed. “What the hell are you doing here, bitch?”

I stepped forward. “I’m here to take back what you stole from me, Debbie. Starting with this role.”

“You arrogant little—” she hissed, stepping toward me, her hand raised like she was about to grab my hair.

I took a quick step back, instinctively avoiding her. She moved too fast, and before she realized it, her heel slipped on the polished floor.

It all happened so quickly. One second she was lunging at me, and the next, her arms flailed wildly as she lost her balance. And then, down she went. The sound of her hitting the ground echoed through the room. Flat on her face.

The room went silent for a beat before laughter broke out, and the phones came out. The soft hum of video recording filled the space.

In an instant, she became the laugh of the town again while I became the headlines for getting the lead role.

It was astounding how much could change in a single week.

Just days ago, I had been watching my life crumble, and now I was standing at the peak of something new. My face was plastered on billboards, magazines, and social media campaigns as the new face of a luxury brand—a title that had once belonged to Debbie Pearson.

The scandal had completely dismantled her career, and with her endorsements pulled, her name was all but erased from the acting industry.

During that week, Matthew didn’t stop trying to get my attention. My phone buzzed relentlessly with his texts and missed calls using new numbers each time I blocked him. He sent flowers, gifts, and even handwritten letters begging for forgiveness.

“Jillian, please just talk to me.”

“I made a mistake. We can fix this.”

“I love you.”

I deleted every message without reading further. I burned the flowers and trashed the gifts without hesitation. He could grovel all he wanted, but I was done.

Finally, the day I’d been waiting for arrived—the first day of shooting for the muchanticipated film. The set was abuzz with activity as everyone prepared for the announcement of the new male lead.

The production team had been tightlipped about his identity, teasing the media and fans with the promise of a surprise. Even I didn’t know who it would be.

On set, the air was alive with excitement and speculation. The crew hustled to get everything ready, and I could hear whispers of curiosity among the staff.

“Do you think it’ll be someone famous?”

“Maybe a rising star?”

As I walked towards my tent to prepare, I heard a familiar voice coming from the director’s office.

“Please, you can’t replace me. You know no one else can deliver what I can,” Matthew’s voice echoed, filled with desperation.

I stopped in my tracks, my stomach twisting in disgust. Of course, he was here, still trying to claw his way back into relevance.

The director responded. “The decision has been made, Matthew. It’s not up for discussion.”

I smirked to myself and kept walking. He was getting exactly what he deserved.

Inside my tent, the makeup artist assigned to me turned out to be Debbie’s former stylist. When I saw her, I raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me.

“Is this okay, Ms. Brennan?” the stylist asked nervously, probably wondering if I’d object.

“It’s perfect,” I said with a smile. “Let’s get started.”

As I sat in the chair, letting her work, I could feel the weight of the day settling in. This was my moment—a chance to reclaim everything I had sacrificed for Matthew. But, of course, he couldn’t stay out of my way for long.

The tent flap burst open, and there he was—Matthew Flores, looking disheveled and frantic.

“Jillian,” he said, his voice pleading.

I didn’t even flinch. “What do you want, Matthew?”

He stepped closer, his eyes wide with desperation. “You have to help me. Please, I’m begging you.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Help you? After everything you’ve done? You must be joking.”

“I made a mistake,” he said quickly. “I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Please, Jillian. I need you.”

“You needed me five years ago, Matthew. Now? You’re on your own.”

His desperation turned into anger, and he stepped closer, his voice rising. “You don’t understand. My career is falling apart. I have nothing left.”

“And whose fault is that?” I snapped, standing up from the chair. “I gave you everything, Matthew. My time, my energy, my love. And you threw it all away. You don’t get to come crawling back now.”

He reached out, his hand brushing my arm. “Please, Jillian, I’ll do anything—”

Before he could finish, I grabbed the nearest water bottle and threw it at his face.

The cold water splashed over him, and he froze, stunned.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted, wiping his face. His expression twisted with fury, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out.

But before he could do anything, another hand shot out, grabbing Matthew’s wrist and stopping him in his tracks.

“Back off,” a deep voice said.

I turned, my eyes widening as I saw the man standing behind Matthew.

Brett Cantrell.

Matthew’s eyes widened in shock. “Brett? What the hell are you doing here?”

Brett smirked, his grip on Matthew’s wrist tightening. “What else? I’m here because I’m the male lead for this movie.”

My jaw dropped. Brett Cantrell is my leading man?

The Brett Cantrell. The Alist actor who had disappeared from the spotlight years ago. Everyone in the industry had always speculated where he’d gone. Now, here he was, standing in front of me—every inch the star he used to be—declaring he was the male lead for the movie I was about to star in.

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, Brett turned to me with that trademark smirk that could melt anyone’s resolve. His eyes locked onto mine, and then, as if the words had been rehearsed for years, he said:

“Oh, hello there, my dear fiancée…”

The world seemed to tilt, and my breath caught in my throat as my eyes widened.

“Fiancée?” I whispered to myself, more confused than I had ever been in my life.