Breaking News!
TROY & RIHANNA: YOUNG LOVE CRASHES AND BURNS!
Hollywood's Hottest Couple Calls It Quits After One Year
Heartbreak in Hollywood! Troy Armitage, 17, and Rihanna, 18, have officially called it quits after a whirlwind year of romance, music, and red-carpet moments that had fans swooning. The superstar duo, who first sparked dating rumors early last year, have gone their separate ways, sources confirm.
"They're both young, insanely talented, and juggling crazy schedules," an insider spills. "In the end, the pressure of being in the spotlight all the time just became too much."
The split comes just as Troy, already a global phenomenon thanks to his blockbuster movies and chart-topping music, begins promotion for [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix], while Rihanna's career skyrockets with her second album dominating the airwaves.
Neither has publicly addressed the breakup, leaving fans heartbroken. Just a couple of months ago, during his first-ever concert, Troy dedicated his latest song, 'Golden Hour', to Rihanna. Seeing the happy couple on stage in fan videos posted on YouTube is a little heartbreaking in hindsight.
Rumors are swirling that Troy got extremely close with Scarlett Johansson, his co-star in an upcoming film, which allegedly caused tension with his now ex-girlfriend. Speculation is also mounting that Troy's superstar status, intense schedule balancing two continents, and relentless media scrutiny played major roles in the breakup.
Yet, sources close to the former couple insist the split was mutual and amicable. "They still care about each other, but they're in different places in their lives," a friend reveals. "Right now, they need to focus on themselves."
So, what's next for the former flames? Rihanna is reportedly pouring her emotions into new music, while Troy has already sold out two months of concerts at the newly opened Galen Center in Los Angeles. One thing's for sure—these two aren't slowing down anytime soon.
Will they stay friends? Will heartbreak fuel their next big hits? Hollywood will be watching.
…
I put down the latest TMZ publication on the coffee table in front of me, only to meet the judgmental gazes of my parents, who had flown back to the States the moment they heard about my breakup. Only after arriving did they realize it was fake.
I had kinda forgotten to warn them beforehand, and now I was cursing myself for letting this situation get so complicated.
"You need to break up with her, son," Dad advised. "For real. This fake/real thing is getting out of hand."
"But…" I trailed off, not having a solid argument against his advice.
"Your dad is right," Mum said. "I was against a fake relationship from the start, and now I'm confused about what the hell is going on in your life. When you weren't in a relationship, you said you were, and now that you are in one, you're backtracking? I don't want you to become one of those celebrities whose real lives are totally different from their public persona. You are better than that, Troy."
My parents made some good arguments. Until a few years ago, I hated the whole media circus surrounding celebrity dating lives, but now, before even turning 18, I was already part of the machine. And all because of Rihanna.
A small part of me resented her for forcing me into this, but I had no choice. Rihanna wouldn't back down from this. I had tried talking to her about this for days, to no avail.
"I love her," I told my mother. "And she had some genuine concerns that I was overshadowing her career. Every piece of news about her would find some way to mention me. Don't forget the online hate she had to deal with."
"By that logic," Dad said, "you won't find any girl in the world your age. Ever"
I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. "What exactly do you mean?"
"Son," Dad said softly, "you are the highest-grossing actor in the world, with your films collectively earning around $7 billion. With your next two releases, that number will likely surpass $8 billion. You're already the most awarded teenager in showbiz and have a unique record of never delivering a flop. Even if you stopped working today, your name is already etched in history. Any girl your age wouldn't be able to match that level of achievement. Do you plan to stay single until retirement?"
I hated it when Dad made so much sense. But I couldn't let him win this argument.
"Rihanna's not insecure about my achievements," I said firmly. "She loves me and even motivates me to do better with my music. She just wants to create some distance between us publicly—something we should have done from the start. And it's only for a while. In a few months, we'll tell the people close to us that we're back together, but we'll keep it private to avoid media scrutiny."
Even as I spoke, I didn't fully believe my own words. I knew it was likely that this leak would heighten the scrutiny instead of reducing it. But I couldn't think of anything at the moment.
My parents exchanged a silent look, probably reaching the same conclusion I had. Thankfully, they changed the subject—though only slightly.
"You ready for the upcoming promotions for [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix]?" Dad asked. "Because, believe me, you broke up at a bad time. Reporters are going to ask about it."
I scoffed. "I won't answer any personal questions. It'll be made perfectly clear to every journalist interviewing me that if they ask anything inappropriate, I'll walk out."
Over the years, I'd already blocked several reporters from ever interviewing me who had crossed the line with their questions. By now, they knew that if they strayed from the approved topics, it would be their last interview with me. That was the power of stardom I now wielded.
"But I still have three days before that," I noted. "I need to finish filming [Disturbia] and then I also have a meeting with one of the biggest tech companies in the world, so I am a little busy now."
(Break)
"Mom!" I called out in distress as I slowly walked forward through the dimly lit tunnel. "Mom! Where are you?"
A sudden noise from somewhere ahead made me whip around in alarm, but there was nothing there. That turned out to be a bad move—before I could react, the floor beneath me gave way, and I plunged down the metaphorical rabbit hole.
I landed with a splash in what was supposed to be dirty sewer water. Thankfully, extensive wires and hidden mattresses cushioned my fall, ensuring I didn't get hurt. Still, the whole process was exhausting because of the multiple retakes we had to do.
The cave I had fallen into was dark and damp, supposedly an underground sewer connected to the villain's house. In reality, it was an entirely separate, intricately built set created just for this scene—far removed from the house set where we had shot the earlier sequences.
Muffled grunts caught my attention. I hurriedly followed the sound and soon spotted Carrie-Anne Moss tied to a pipe, duct tape covering her mouth.
"Mom!" I cried out, rushing toward her. "Thank God, you're okay," I added in relief, grabbing a pair of conveniently placed garden shears to cut her restraints.
She collapsed to the floor, and I stepped forward to help—only to freeze as she fell straight into the arms of the villain, played by David Morse.
David was… an interesting co-star, to say the least. Ever since filming began, he hadn't spoken a single word to any of us outside of scenes. As a dedicated method actor, he wanted to maintain an air of mystery around his character until production wrapped. He interacted with the director and crew when necessary, but when it came to me, Scarlett Johansson, and Steven Yeun, he barely acknowledged our existence.
Carrie-Anne, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—warm, easygoing, and always fun to be around. She sometimes brought her two young sons to set, and I had grown quite fond of her and the kids.
That's what made it even more unsettling to see David holding a blade to her throat.
"I'll kill her immediately if you take even one step forward," he said, his voice eerily calm. "Drop the shears, turn around, and walk away slowly."
A chill ran down my spine. David was disturbingly good in this role.
I had no choice but to obey, letting the shears clatter to the floor as I took a slow step back.
"Keep walking," David ordered from behind me. "Don't stop until I say so."
I followed his command to the letter, retracing my steps until I was back in the room where I had entered the tunnel.
"Good boy," David said, still holding Carrie-Anne hostage. "Now, pick up that paper over there and write me a confession. Tell the world how you, in your thirst for revenge against the system that incarcerated you, murdered your best friend, your girlfriend… and now even your own mother."
I glared at him, hatred burning in my eyes. But I had no choice—I picked up the pen lying on the notebook, if only to stall him temporarily from doing the unthinkable.
At that moment, Carrie managed to wrench herself free just enough to drive her knee into his groin. David let out a sharp grunt, his grip loosening as pain overtook him. In the chaos, the knife slipped from his hand, clattering down the same hole we had crawled out of.
Not wasting the opportunity, I launched myself at him.
In this revised script, my character, Kale, had been training as a professional MMA fighter before his father's death—a passion he abandoned in grief. But now, with his mother's life on the line, his instincts were kicking back in.
I attacked with everything I had. David and I had spent weeks rehearsing this fight scene. Though we never practiced together—his method acting wouldn't allow it—we both knew every move by heart.
The producers had suggested stunt doubles, but David refused for his method, and I refused because I had spent years busting my ass learning martial arts. It would feel disingenuous to let someone else handle a fight scene with such low risk of real injury.
I threw a swift kick to David's shin, followed by a sharp punch to his chin. Of course, I didn't actually make contact—it was all perfectly choreographed for the camera. David staggered back but quickly regained his balance. He lunged at me with a punch, but I sidestepped, using his momentum against him to execute a smooth judo flip, slamming him onto a padded mat placed for safety.
A quick cut would edit out the padding, and the fight continued—though at this point, it was more me beating him down than an actual fight.
Realizing he was losing, David grabbed a nearby water bottle and flung its contents into my eyes. The unexpected move caught me off guard, and I recoiled, momentarily blinded. Seizing the moment, he turned on Carrie.
By now, she had freed herself completely and swung a baseball bat at him. The impact landed, but David wrestled the bat from her grasp and swung back—his strike hitting her square in the chest. She went down like a sack of bricks.
"No! Mom!" My vision had cleared, and I scrambled to my feet.
David turned back to me, gripping the bat tightly. What followed was an intense fight—him armed, me unarmed. He had the upper hand this time, striking relentlessly. I was knocked to the ground, gasping for breath as he loomed over me, the bat raised for a final blow.
Before he could strike, Carrie tackled him from behind, buying me precious seconds.
My gaze flicked to the floor, landing on the same pen he had wanted me to use to write my confession. Without hesitation, I grabbed it, pushed to my feet, and drove the pen into the side of his neck.
David staggered back, his hands clutching his throat in shock. He stumbled, teetered on the edge—and then fell.
I watched, panting heavily, as his body landed motionless in the water below.
Carrie-Anne Moss stepped behind me and pulled me into a tight embrace.
Neither of us spoke. We simply stood there, mother and son, staring down at the lifeless body of the man who had terrorized us.
"And cut!" D.J. Caruso called out, his voice ringing across the set. "Print. Check the gate."
The moment he did, the entire crew erupted into applause. This was it—the final scene of the movie. With this last shot in the can, we had officially wrapped principal photography.
The extended action sequence hadn't been easy to film. The script had gone through several tweaks to make the climax more thrilling and engaging—the kind of ending I had envisioned from the start. That included giving my character a more action-heavy role, especially toward the end. And honestly? I was all for it.
Now that [Disturbia] was done, I could finally shift my focus elsewhere. But before that...
"Hey," I said, approaching Caruso, who wore a wide grin now that filming was finally over.
"Troy!" he greeted warmly. "Hell of a performance. I think we've made something really special."
"Thanks," I nodded, genuinely appreciative. "And I just wanted to say—I'm sorry for how things started between us. I hope there aren't any hard feelings."
Caruso chuckled and shook my hand. "Nah, man. I wasn't exactly blameless either. I had my own ego—Spielberg personally called me to direct this film, so when you came in with your ideas, it felt like I was losing control. But I see now—you weren't taking control from me. You were pushing back against the writers and the editors. And honestly? I just saw Evan's semi-finished cut last week. I'd bet anything the studio picks his version over Jim's. So... thank you. For working with me, not against me."
After months of tension, it felt good to finally bury the hatchet. The last thing I wanted was for Caruso to resent me moving forward.
After exchanging some more small talk with him and other cast and crew members, I headed back to where Tobias and Benji were waiting.
"So, you're done here, huh?" Tobias asked as I approached.
"Yep." I exhaled, feeling the weight lift from my shoulders. "Glad we wrapped before [Harry Potter] promotions kick in. How's everything going with [Twilight] and [Superbad]?"
"Good," Tobias said. "For [Twilight], we're set to start in February. We could've started sooner, but Emily and Rob need time to get in serious shape. Catherine's already scouting locations in Washington—wanted to handle it personally."
"So she finally agreed?" I asked.
"To shoot the first two films back-to-back? Yeah, but it took some convincing. Melissa and Stephanie already finished the script for New Moon, so we're good to go. We'll just have to adjust Jacob's scenes so he has time to bulk up for the second half of [New Moon]."
"Sounds like you've got it all under control. And [Superbad]?"
Tobias answered, "They could've started last month. They've just been waiting for you to wrap [Disturbia]."
"Did they make the changes I requested?"
This time Benji replied. "Oh yeah. And let me tell you—the new scenes are way better. I can barely suppress my laughter thinking about them."
I smirked. "Can't wait to read them."
As we made our way toward my trailer, I shifted my focus to the next thing on my plate. Before I could dive into Harry Potter promotions, I had one last meeting—a sit-down with Eric Schmidt, Google's CEO.
He wanted to buy YouTube from me.
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