The first sign something was wrong came on a cold Tuesday morning.

You were halfway through breakfast at the dorms when Olivia rushed in, still in pajama shorts and an oversized NYU hoodie, clutching her phone like it was burning her. Her face was pale—unusual for someone normally so composed.

“Someone leaked my script,” she blurted before even saying hello.

You stood up, shocked. “What? Which one?”

“The new indie film. The one Gina told me to keep quiet about.” Her voice shook as she ran a hand through her hair. “Now the studio thinks I leaked it. They’re reconsidering casting me.”

You guided her to sit. “Liv… who would even do that?”

She looked at you helplessly. “I don’t know. But someone wants me gone.”

You made her tea, trying to keep her calm, but inside your chest a storm was starting to form. Olivia had been working so hard to rebuild her career on her terms. No handlers. No fake-pop-star image. No glossy PR lies.

And now someone was trying to rip it away.

As Olivia curled up on the couch, eyes glossy with frustration, you made a silent decision:

You would find out who was sabotaging her. Even if Olivia never knew.

The first clue came the next day.

You overheard two NYU film students whispering in the hallway: “Her role was supposed to be a comeback.” “Yeah, but Gina’s assistant isn’t exactly her biggest fan…” “Didn’t he date her for five minutes and get dumped?”

You froze.

Gina’s assistant—Eric Hale. A guy who thought “no” meant “try again.” A guy who hated Olivia’s independence. A guy who had access to scripts.

It was a lead.

That night, after Olivia fell asleep during a movie marathon, you quietly grabbed your jacket and left the dorm.

NYU was nearly silent. Only streetlights and the distant rumble of cabs accompanied you as you headed toward the film building. You slipped inside using a side door someone forgot to lock.

You searched through the office wing until you found Eric’s cubicle.

And there it was.

His laptop, still on. His email open. One message highlighted—sent to a known gossip blogger.

Attached: Olivia’s full script.

Your stomach dropped.

You screenshotted everything. Every message. Every timestamp. Every file transfer.

Then you quietly left the building, heart hammering.

The next morning, Olivia found you waiting for her with two coffees and a grim expression.

“What’s going on?” she asked, instantly sensing your mood.

You handed her the folder of printed evidence.

She flipped through it slowly. At first confused… then horrified… then furious.

“Eric?” she whispered. “He did this because I wouldn’t date him again?”

Your jaw clenched. “He risked your career because he has the emotional maturity of a stapler.”

Olivia’s eyes softened with something warm and grateful. “You… investigated this? For me?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I wasn’t going to let someone destroy your future.”

She suddenly stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever protected me like that.”

Before you could answer, she pulled you into a tight hug, pressing her forehead to your shoulder as she breathed shakily.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she murmured.