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Billionaire's Placeholder: Now Watch Me Shine Novel Cover

Billionaire's Placeholder: Now Watch Me Shine

For two years, I was the perfect shadow of another woman. I wore the silk robes Brittain Austin bought, styled my hair exactly how he liked, and spoke in a voice pitched half an octave higher than my own. I was a placeholder, a living statue in a minimalist Manhattan penthouse, waiting for a man who looked at me but never actually saw me. Everything shattered when a news alert flashed on my phone: "Caryn Newman Spotted at JFK." The original was back. The woman I was hired to mimic had returned to claim her throne, and my secret two-year contract as her stand-in was set to expire in three days. Brittain didn't even give me the courtesy of a phone call. While he was supposed to be on a business trip, photos surfaced of him shielding Caryn from the paparazzi, his hand on her waist with a tenderness he never showed me. When I walked into his office to return his keys, he didn't look guilty; he just looked annoyed. He pulled out a checkbook and asked, "How much for the hurt feelings?" When I refused his money, he coldly ordered his assistant to freeze every one of my accounts before I even reached the elevator. I stood on the sidewalk with zero dollars, realizing that to him, I wasn't a partner—I was just an expired lease. I had spent two years erasing my soul to fit into his world, only to be tossed out like trash the moment the real thing came home. But Brittain forgot one thing: before I was his doll, I was an actress. I pulled my secret weapon from under the bed—a notebook and a raw film cut he never knew existed. I called my agent and launched a high-profile "showmance" with my co-star that set the internet on fire. As I blocked Brittain's number and moved into a dusty apartment in Queens, I realized the show wasn't over. For the first time, I was the leading lady.
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Chapter 5

The word ex-boyfriend hung in the air between them.

Brittain's eyes narrowed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. He walked around the desk, closing the distance between them. He used his height as a weapon.

"You don't get to decide when this ends," he said. His voice was low, dangerous. "You are under contract."

Cara took a step back, maintaining the gap. "The contract expires on Wednesday. I am not renewing."

Brittain scoffed. It was a dismissive, arrogant sound. "Not renewing? You think you can survive in this town without me? You'll be back to auditioning for toothpaste commercials within a month."

The insult landed. It stung. But it also clarified everything. He didn't respect her. He never had.

"We'll see," she said. "Let's see if I can breathe without the Austin oxygen supply."

He looked annoyed now, like she was a malfunctioning appliance. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a checkbook. He uncapped a fountain pen.

"How much?" he asked. "For the photo? For the hurt feelings? Name the price so I can get back to work."

She looked at the checkbook. She looked at his hand, poised to write away his guilt.

She reached out and placed her hand over his. Her skin was warm against his cold fingers. She pushed his hand down.

"No," she said.

Brittain froze. He looked at her hand, then at her face. Confusion flickered in his eyes.

"I don't want your money, Brittain. I want to be even."

She turned around. She walked toward the door. Her legs felt heavy, but she kept moving.

"If you walk out that door," Brittain called out, his voice striking her back, "I will freeze every account. You won't be able to buy a cup of coffee."

She didn't turn back. "Do it," she said. "That money was for the doll you wanted me to be anyway."

She pulled the door open. Burrel was standing there, holding a file, looking like he wanted to disappear.

"Goodbye, Burrel," she said. She gave him a genuine smile.

She stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, she leaned her head against the cool metal wall. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Back in the office, Brittain crumpled the photo of him and Caryn into a ball and threw it into the trash.

He hit the intercom button. "Freeze Cara Clay's supplementary cards and trust accounts linked to Austin Media. All of them. Now. And tell PR to pull her name from the Met Gala list."

He sat back in his chair. He was sure. She would be back. She had nowhere else to go.

His phone rang. It was Caryn.

Brittain? Are we still on for dinner? Her voice was soft, needy.

He looked at the empty spot where Cara had stood. "Yes," he said. "I'll pick you up at eight."

Down on the street, Cara walked out of the building. Her phone buzzed.

Bank Alert: Credit Card ending in 4098 has been suspended.

She stared at the screen. She had zero dollars in that account now. She laughed, and a tear slipped out and ran down her cheek.

She wiped it away. She texted Zack.

I'm free. Let's work.

She walked toward the subway station. She merged into the crowd, just another girl in New York, invisible and free.

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