Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Thanks for coming by." Ben closed his front door behind the last visitor at the open house.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawson." The realtor he'd hired was piling her brochures together and putting them in her bag. "It's a great house—amazing location—but the architecture is...unique and the price point is high. It's just going to take some time."
"I understand. Thank you for all the work you're doing," Ben replied, showing her out. The open house had been busy, but ultimately, no one had been interested enough to even take a brochure, let alone fill out an application.
Ben walked across the cold marble foyer and headed for his office. The sooner he could be out of this house, the better. It didn't fit who he was. It never had. When he'd been married to Marion, they were a power couple—at least, that's what she always liked to call them—and this house had fit that image they’d created for themselves. It was in every way…powerful.
Ben had liked that picture once upon a time, but now he realized that's all he’d liked. None of it had been real. He’d been living a lie. Finding himself, finding the truth…it had all started when he’d decided to take the first step and divorce Marion. The job at Shepherd Films had been the next step toward finding who he wanted to be.
But Aria? She'd been an unexpected step, and, yet, she was the person who'd taught him the most. She was soft and nurturing, but she could command a room, not only with her talent, but with who she was. There was a selflessness to her and a kindness about her that he admired, and he could see so many others did as well.
She may not want anything to do with him anymore, but he wanted everything to do with her. He wanted to take everything she'd taught him, everything she'd inspired in him, and reflect that in his life going forward. He was already scouting new homes on the ocean—warmth and light being his top two requirements.
Grief squeezed his heart as he sat down at his desk. He'd never known it was possible to miss someone as much as he missed her.
He logged onto his computer and pulled up his email. Opening his draft folder, he pulled up the same email he'd been working on for weeks. The one he desperately wanted to send her, but just...couldn't.
She didn't want to hear from him. He wanted to respect that, but...damn it, it felt wrong. What they'd had, what they'd felt, or at least, what he'd felt...how could she just walk away from that?
How could she not be missing him as badly as he was missing her?
Clicking away from the email, he saved it back to his drafts. She needed more time, and he needed...he just needed her. That just wasn't an option right now.
Switching over to his inbox, Ben noticed that Arthur had sent him a website link. He clicked on it and Aria's picture appeared on the screen.
Dear Hollywood, Do Better. Our Daughters Are Watching.
Boys will be boys, they said, and then they turned to me and called me a slut for the exact same thing. They critiqued every part of my body, broke me down piece by piece like cattle at an auction. The graphic comments from men, the disparaging remarks from women. No one had a kind word. No one had empathy. I read every comment, ingested that hate, and let it poison me. I let it make me question who I was, and who my mother and father had raised me to be.
Until I didn't.
Until I looked in the mirror and realized that the actions of one man changed nothing. What he did, how the press ran with it, how the public reacted…it hurt. It hurts so much, but it changed nothing.
I know who I am. I love who I am.
That's the lesson we should be teaching the next generation of women. That's the moral we could tell at the end of this story—rather than slut shaming, body shaming, or any other type of shame. Hollywood could use movies and films to lift women up, to empower an entire gender, and foster sisterhood and empathy for one another. They could lift the spirits of everyone who was ever told they're held to a different standard than their counterparts because of the body parts they were born with.
Judge me for my spirit. Judge me for my attitude. Judge me for my talent on the silver screen, but don't judge me for being a victim. I'm not, and you won't make me.
Aria Rose
Ben devoured every word in Aria’s open letter in People Magazine. His heart both roared to life and shattered to pieces as he read. Pride swelled in his chest at her strength, inhaling deeply. In the same moment, every part of him ached to hold her. To take away the pain behind every word she’d written.
She'd laid herself bare in front of the world in an entirely different way, and refused to apologize for it. He loved her so much more in this moment than he’d ever thought possible.
The comments section was in the thousands already—so much of it positive and commending her—but it was an editor's note at the bottom that caught Ben's attention.
The author would also like to thank Shepherd Film Studios for their swift action in not only denouncing the actions of Russell Rains, director, and removing him from their current project, but assisting in the police investigation regarding his release of nonconsensual, intimate photographs of the author.
Waves of relief and sadness tumbled through him as he sat back in his chair. So, she'd seen what he'd done, how he'd tried to fix his mistakes, and yet, she still hadn't reached out to him. It had changed nothing for her.
Not that he'd done it for that reason, because he certainly had not. He'd done it because it was right, and because he wasn't going to run a company that would be associated with such vile behavior. Rains had received a small settlement for the work he'd done, and been removed from the project immediately. Ben had been the first person down at the police station giving a statement to aid in their investigation.
Thankfully, he wasn't being held legally responsible, though he'd told the police exactly what he'd done and what a drastic error he'd made. Law enforcement only had their eyes on Russell, because the victim had refused to press charges against anyone but him.
She'd saved him, both legally, and in the press, with her statement.
He'd promised to be there for her—no matter what. He was supposed to have protected her, and not only did he fail spectacularly at that, but she'd had to come to his rescue.
Ben opened up his draft folder one more time and pulled up the email he'd been wanting to send for two weeks. Finally, he clicked send.
Aria,
I should have told you weeks ago. I was wrong—so wrong. Don't forgive me. I just needed you to know. I'm sorry.
Ben
He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her he should have chased after her and begged her forgiveness. He wanted to tell her he couldn't stop thinking about her, and that he'd read her article and seen her in the press and was so damn proud of her. He wanted to praise her for championing women, standing tall in the face of such adversity.
But telling her any of that would have been for him. To ease his guilt, his heartbreak. She deserved better than having to appease his pain.
Suddenly, an idea hit him. Ben grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contact list until he found the number he needed.
After two rings, the other side picked up. "Hello?"
"Hi, Travis. It's Ben Lawson. I've got a new project I'm about to start, and I'd like your help with it."
"A new movie?"
Ben shook his head, even though Travis couldn't see him. "Not exactly. Can you come by the offices first thing Monday morning? We need to move quickly on this."
"Sure. I'll see you then."
Ben was about to hang up, but then quickly added, "Hey, Travis. One last thing—if you're still in contact with Aria, please don't mention anything about this to her."
"Uh...okay. Strange, but I can do that."
"Thanks, man. See you Monday." Ben hung up the phone feeling a surge of excitement, closing his computer. He stood and grabbed his keys, then headed for his car.
Ben dropped into the driver’s seat and then scrolled through his contacts again, dialing another number this time. "Arthur, meet me at Shepherd Films."
"What? It's Saturday. I've got plans with a nine iron."
"See you in thirty minutes," Ben replied, ignoring him. "We've got a lot to do, and a really short amount of time to get it all done."
Arthur sighed, clearly exasperated. "Bloody hell. See you in thirty."
Ben gunned the car and raced out of his driveway. It would be a miracle if he could pull off his idea, but if he could, it would not only be fantastic for the studio, but for Aria and the film as well.
An invigorated sense of purpose came over him, inspired by Aria's article. For the first time since taking this job, Ben felt a true excitement for his position. He could do more than just make movies.
He had the power to change things, and that was exactly what he planned to do.