Me Against Her (Cate Blanchett x OC)

Deadend

Most likely because he was married to one, Andrew was very adept at dealing with actors. Whenever a conflict took place at rehearsal, he always came back the next day in the most placid manner as if nothing had happened. He always said that actors were highly emotional and insecure creatures, and they all depended on him for their baseline of emotional stability. 

He asked me to go to his office after everyone had left the next day, and this time around, he couldn't contain the rage was visibly bubbling under the surface. The events of the previous evening had clearly hit a nerve. 

"You think you're hot shit, don't you?" He asked aggressively.

I was taken aback, "Excuse me?" 

"How dare you seduce my wife?" 

"With all due respect, sir," irony was oozing out of every syllable I uttered, "she asked me to go to the Oscars with her." 

"You think she'll choose you over her career? Her reputation? You're dead wrong, missy. You're just a young plaything. She'll always comes back to me and the children. Always."  

"Did you deliver the letter?" 

"No," he said placidly, "It wasn't me. Look, I've never liked you since I first met you. But I'm your boss, and if I wanted you to resign, I'd say it straight to your face. I don't have time for mind games." 

"That's reassuring." 

"But now that I know what the letter's talking about, I'm intrigued. Have you told anyone at the company that you fucked my wife?" He continued aggressively. 

I was taken aback. "No, I haven't, what good would that do? But there have been rumors, obviously. Everyone has been acting weird around me since we got back." 

"I know the man from the security footage." 

"What?"

"The man you showed me yesterday on your phone. Are you absolutely sure he's the one that delivered the letter?"

"No, but it's very probable. Who is he?" 

"Please keep it this in the strictest confidence." 

"Okay." 

"His name is Harge Abbot. He's the secret donor that gave us 2 million dollars." 

"Holy shit." My hands were sweating so badly I had to rub them repeatedly on my pants, "Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" 

"He made it clear that he wished to keep his identity hidden from everyone at the company."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because I learned last night that you've been fucking my wife, and I want to nip any gossip in the bud. I don't want people talking about our marriage at dinner tables, least of all him. So, I need you to make sure...if he's the one that delivered this letter. I want to know if the man who is funding our company is blackmailing you about your affair with my wife, and why. I know you do too. And I'll see what I can do." 

"I'll let you know if I see him stop by again." 

"And remember, if you want any semblance of a future at this company, don't tell anyone about this, Cate included. She's the face of this company, and she has much more to lose than me. Trust me, I'm on your side for this, but she might not be."

"I understand." 

-----

I spent the following days in deep terror that Cate would find out about the letter, but at the same time keeping all of it from her was a different type of agony. Given all the years of training she had in reading people, she could tell that something was off.

"Are you sure you're doing all right...darling?" she asked me after rehearsal one day.

"Yep, as good as new." I managed the most genuine artificial smile ever.

"Listen," she waited until everyone had left the room, "I know we haven't really talked...since LA."

"We had an agreement."

"Edie," she said, "it doesn't mean I don't care about you, do you understand? My job...my life, is just very complicated right now."

"Of course."

She touched my arm again like the other night, and her hands lingered just a fraction of a second longer than what was normal between boss and employee. Then she let go, and vanishing into the night, leaving me hungering for more. 

Three days later, another envelope came.

Same as last time. No postage, no return address. Just my name ominously occupying its center, written in an elegant hand. 

When I went to pick it up at the intern's desk, I noticed a bouquet of orchids sitting there in a lavish wrap. Same as the ones I saw before on Cate's desk. 

"Hey, those look pretty," I said, gesturing to the flowers, "are those for me too?"

"You wish, those are for Cate. You're not the only one who wants her favor." 

I was shocked by the audacity of the statement, especially coming from an intern. But I held my tongue, because I needed more info from her. I held up the bouquet and glanced all over. No card or any sign of the sender. "Who's it from? A secretive fan, it seems."

"Yea," the intern said, "oh actually, it's from the same guy who delivered your letter."

"Oh my god," I rubbed my arms with my hands to hide my goosebumps, "did you...see who it was?"

"I did this time," she said chirpily, "even had a chat with him. Super hot. Really polite fella. Tall. Well dressed. Like a young Cillian Murphy." 

"Did he say what his name was?"

"Harold? Or something."

"Could it be...Harge?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, "That's right. Harge it is. Is he a producer?" 

"Sure," I said, "did he mention where he worked? I mean, as in his day job."

"No, but seems like he had deep pockets." 

"Did he say what the occasion was for these flowers?"

"I don't know, I guess he's really hustling for this pitch of his. Hey, do you have his number? I wonder if he has a girlfriend..." 

Her words were drowned out by an ocean of thoughts. I hurried back to my desk, and made sure no one was watching. Then I tore the envelope open - another sheet of white paper fell out. The message read: 

"You have 7 days left. Resign and stay away from her. Or it'll all come out, and the two million goes away."