Chapter 26

The tabloids named them “Beauty and the Beast.” That headline appeared above a candid photo of Eliza and Jacob walking hand-in-hand through a Nashville farmers’ market—her Hollywood beauty and glamor in stark contrast with his scarred face and blue jeans. The intended mockery was transparent, meant to question what someone who looked like Eliza Montgomery could possibly see in someone with Jacob Whitney’s appearance—10 dating a 3.

The 10-3 meme spread quickly across social media, spawning countless variations—some cruel, others merely curious about this unexpected pairing. Jacob ignored it entirely, unsurprised by people’s attitudes. He’d lived with them all his life. Eliza, however, found herself angry on his behalf.

“It’s disgusting,” she fumed during a phone call with her agent, Robert Meyer. “As if physical appearance is the only measure of a person’s worth.”

“Welcome to the industry you’ve worked in for twenty years, “he replied dryly. “Though I have to say, this relationship is generating more authentic public interest than anything your last three films did.”

Her publicist, Maxwell Reid, who had been with her for nearly a decade, paced her Malibu living room like a caged animal. His designer shoes clicked against the marble floor as he waved his phone in her face.

“Do you have any idea what this is doing to your brand?” Maxwell’s voice rose with each word. “We’ve spent years cultivating this image of sophistication and sex appeal, and now...” he gestured wildly at the tabloid spread across her coffee table.

Eliza crossed her arms. “I wasn’t aware my personal happiness was subordinate to my ‘brand.’”

“Don’t be naïve,” Maxwell’s tone sharpened. “Your brand is everything to your career. Everything. It’s how you get offered roles. Now, the Cartier campaign is getting cold feet. They signed you to represent elegance, not some charity case’s arm candy.

“Don’t you dare call him that,” she snapped

Maxwell softened his approach, sitting beside her and taking her hands in his. “Liza, honey, I’m on your side. Always have been. But you need to think long and hard whether this stupid relationship is worth it. You’re never going to see another decent role.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She pulled her hands away. “Jacob is brilliant. He’s kind and honest. And frankly, what I do in my private life...”

“There is no private life!” Maxwell erupted, standing again. “Not for you. Not anymore. The Vogue cover next month? They’re already asking questions. The Spielberg project? His people called this morning.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. It’s my job to craft your image.” He checked his watch. “Look, take a few days. Think it over. But this needs to end. For both your sakes.”

The conversation ended in a stalemate. Three days later, when Eliza was on location in Vancouver, DMZ’s website broke the exclusive: “BEAUTY DUMPS THE BEAST: Eliza Montgomery Ends Fling With Disfigured Artist.” The article quoted “sources close to the actress” claiming the relationship had been a brief infatuation, now ended amicably.

Eliza was in her trailer reviewing lines when her phone exploded with notifications. She called Jacob immediately.

“I didn’t say any of this,” she said, her voice shaking with rage. “This is Maxwell. It has to be.”

Jacob’s voice was steady. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“It is NOT okay.” She paced the small space.

“You better call the girls, though. They’re upset.”

When Eliza returned home two days later, the twins were waiting. Despite her assurances, still stone faced and withdrawn.

“Emma, Lily,” Eliza started, “you know none of what they’re saying is true.”

“Kids at school saw it,” Emma muttered. “They said you were embarrassed to be seen with him.”

She put her arm around them and hugged. “Girls, remember what we discussed? About how the media distorts everything.”

“I don’t care about the media,” Sophie cut in, her voice cracking. “We thought this time was going to be different. Jacob likes us. He’s nice and normal. What if he goes away because of this?”

The hurt in their eyes was the final straw.

Eliza rarely lost her temper. In two decades of Hollywood politics, she’d maintained a reputation for grace under pressure. But when Maxwell’s betrayal jeopardized not just her relationship but her daughter’s emotional well-being, something snapped.

The next morning, she drove to Maxwell’s Beverly Hills office unannounced, bypassing his assistant with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Eliza!” Maxwell looked up from his desk, genuinely surprised. “I’ve been trying to reach you...”