Julian slammed the Echoes of Silence authorship transfer onto the table, impatiently ordering me to sign so his lover, Serena, could win an award. He didn't even hide his phone call about their celebration party. I didn’t argue; I simply calmly signed. He never checked the documents slipped beneath: a separation agreement and a binding IP division clause. By letting him blindly sign, I made an irreversible choice. I would permanently destroy five years of my uncredited achievements and admit my wasted youth just to leave this marriage. Formatting every encrypted cloud drive tied to my ghostwriting alias, I grabbed my black suitcase. As I vanished from Hollywood, the only question was how long it would take for his hollow empire to collapse without me.