Screenplay of the Heart

CHAPTER 15

The light from the early morning sun spilled across the marbled floors of the Four Seasons Hotel penthouse suite, casting a warm glow that countered the cool LA breeze drifting in from the slightly ajar balcony door. It was a room designed to be a testament to luxury, a place where the city's elite sought refuge from the prying eyes of the world below. And there, standing in the midst of it all, was Nate.

His silhouette emerged from the bathroom, the steam a ghost trailing after him, dissipating into the spacious room. He was a portrait of contrasts, the pristine white of his bathrobe against his sun-kissed, toned chest, a few rebellious droplets of water cascading from his tousled golden hair, betraying the freshness of his shower. His jaw was set, a testament to the resolute expression that seldom left his face—a reminder that the man beneath the exterior was ensnared in the thorns of his own life's complications.

The robe hung loosely, parting slightly as he moved with a grace that was innate, a powerful stillness to his stride. He reached for the crystal decanter, the clink of glass against glass punctuating the silence as he poured himself a whiskey. It was too early, some might say, but time had lost its meaning to Nate in the hours since the news had broken out, shattering the semblance of privacy he had so fiercely guarded.

The first sip of whiskey was sharp, a biting contrast to the gentle morning outside. He walked toward the window, his gaze sweeping over the skyline that was just beginning to stir to life. It was a view he had seen many times, yet now it seemed different, distant, as though he was looking at it for the first time or perhaps the last.

Nate's attention drifted as he sipped his whiskey, the warmth of the liquid barely registering. He was lost in thought, a frown etching deeper into his brow with each ring of his cellphone that lay on the cocktail table. He cast it a weary glance, the device a relentless source of disruption since the news of his divorce had leaked. The constant ringing was becoming a torturous echo in his already troubled mind.

Staying at the hotel turned out to be a smart move. After the news of his divorce broke, reporters had been camping out at his house since yesterday, eager for any bit of drama. Whoever leaked the news had taken away his chance to manage the situation privately.

With the story already circulating, he had no choice but to instruct his lawyers to confirm it. The information was out there now, and there was no way to retract it.

Nate walked towards the door, the sound of a firm knock interrupting the quiet solitude of the morning. He opened it to reveal Francis, his assistant, who offered a respectful nod as he entered.

"Good morning, Mr. Whitmore," Francis greeted with his usual formal tone, stepping inside as Nate led the way to the plush sofa in the living area. The room was bathed in the soft glow of morning light, filtering through the sheer curtains, casting elongated shadows on the sleek surfaces.

Nate settled onto the sofa, his posture relaxed yet attentive. Francis stood before him, a sheaf of papers in hand, the seriousness of their content mirrored in his expression.

"Sir, I've brought several documents that require your signature today," Francis began, handing the first set over. He waited for Nate to take them, his eyes briefly meeting Nate's, ensuring he had his full attention.

"The first document is the press release regarding your divorce," Francis explained, his voice steady. "It outlines the narrative we discussed, aimed at managing the media's portrayal of the situation. It's crucial that we get ahead of the story, to shape the public perception in a way that respects your privacy and intentions."

Nate nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the document. The words blurred slightly, each sentence a reminder of the reality he was now living. He set the paper down, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before gesturing for Francis to continue.