The Secret Wife Of Hollywood's Monk

-list actress who g

rs. Holt

man she'd signed her life away

e wood of the nightstand felt like a

already hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a physical echo of the nightmare she'd ju

he screen was bright eno

x W

x's voice exploded into the room, loud enough tha

tter. Do not look at Instagram. Just..

ropping into a pool of acid. The air in her smal

e was a croak. "

d it sounded like a death sentence. "Number on

ou're sc

terrified! Just... pro

hun

was heavy, pregnant with a disaster Ivy couldn't see yet. H

't

think of a pink elephant. Her thumb move

ed ref

owMol

lungs in a shar

the top. T

e edges. The first post was a GIF, loopin

ast night. Th

the red carpet. Her body pitched forward, a blur

loor. She hit a wall

son. Specifically, her fingers splayed wide, grappling for purchase, snaggin

She fell. She gr

ce that made the bil

dark and cold, looking down at her with an expressio

sg

lat

com

ing way, and barely made it to the bath

at on the cold tile floor, shivering, pr

n't li

lay the raw footage of her memory, stripping

corner. A physical trap. She ha

Ho

ike crashing into a statue. But in that split second,

ha

rd. It wasn't a push. It was a steadying grip, a v

gle. The GIF only showed her, on her knees, her hand tangled at the cro

gain. A text from

comments on your last post just hit 20,0

t, tasting copper. She ha

g-d

was followed immediately b

now you're

his way

e bathroom and peeked

e there. A dozen of them. Lenses the siz

il she hit the floor, pull

buzzed a

ws. Holt's fan base is doxxing you. T

in trouble. She

the paparazzi. It was

Nicho

de. The man who lived in a fortress. The man who tr

efiled th

ere she'd dropped it last night. Inside the zippered pock

turio

this building. It could buy th

't make her feel safe.

lie. And if the world found out why she had that card, be