Chapter 95
“Maybe what?
“Postpone the audition? Or just kick him out right now p>
Lisette’s voice was light, but her words were sharp as blades. She wasn’t going to let Grace play the victim. “His arm’s only hurt temporarily. He’ll be fine in a few days. Why exactly shouldn’t he audition p>
“Grace, you went to school with Owen, right? Funny how quickly you found a way to step on your old classmate the moment it’s convenient. Zero hesitation.
“Honestly, if you’ve got time to worry about him, maybe worry more about yourself. If my half-amateur finance guy ends up outshining you, a trained actress, where’s your dignity gonna hide p>
Lisette wasn’t just saying this to be catty.
After yesterday’s brutal training and Owen pushing himself like a madman, Lisette had full confidence in him.
This rich playboy she’d roped into acting totally by accident? He had way more talent than Justin, who’s been eyeing that Best Actor trophy for years.
It’s like Owen was built for this job.
Grace’s little backstage plot? Lisette had no problem calling her out right here, right now.
“You p>
Grace’s face flushed under the growing weight of curious, judgmental stares. She was still pretty green, and tears welled up in her eyes as the embarrassment hit.
Megan rushed forward like a mama hen, shielding her girl. “Lisette, that’s enough! You can’t just go around accusing people like that p>
Lisette didn’t bother arguing. She just turned to Patrick.
“What do you think, Director p>
Patrick swept his gaze over the two sparring managers, then gave Sam a brief nod. “Hand them the script. Auditions start in five p>
Megan: p>
Is he nuts? He actually wants a guy with a busted arm to audition for the male lead p>
She wanted to scream, but one look at Patrick’s increasingly impatient face made her shove it all down.
He was notorious for his temper, but the man knew how to direct. Every movie of his was a hit, and he liked working with newbies. Anyone handpicked by him basically skipped to fame on a rocket. No one in the industry dared cross him.
Even Megan had to play it cool in front of him.
But the second she glanced at the scene they’d pulled for the audition, her expression flipped from sour to smug.
“Grace, you’ve done this one before. You nailed it last time, remember? The director even praised your work. Relax, you’ve got this-and that injured guy doesn’t stand a chance p>
Grace visibly eased up. “Got it p>
Her eyes drifted over to Lisette and Owen, cold and calculating: ’Lisette, you didn’t see this coming, did you? That I’d pull a scene I’ve already nailed? Child’s play. Once I crush him here, he’ll be out for good-and let’s see if you still have the nerve to run your mouth then p>
She was practically smug by now. With one win under her belt from the past, she was totally calm this time around.
Meanwhile, Owen stared hard at the script in his hand, brows furrowed.
Lisette noticed. “What’s up p>
He glanced from the page up to her, expression weirdly suspicious. “I’m beginning to think you bribed Patrick. I mean, why does this scene look exactly like what we practiced p>
Lisette kicked him in the shin, eyes rolling. “Get your head out of the gutter p>
Owen whined, rubbing his leg. “What? All I meant was, you clearly know how to play your cards! I didn’t say anything sketchy! Geez, you act like I’m the problem-who has the twisted brain here, huh p>
Totally corrupted by that sugar baby loser!
He knew it-nothing good ever came from that guy p>
“Oh? That so p>
Lisette cracked her knuckles, eyes fixed on Owen’s right hand, raising a brow. “Just wondering-if I snap your wrist, would that be considered ’not healthy p>
Owen froze up on the spot like a deer in headlights, zipped his mouth shut, and immediately went back to reading the script.
Even though Lisette had nailed the prediction-they’d practiced this scene thoroughly-he still reviewed it carefully, going over the emotional shifts their acting coach emphasized, replaying the beats over and over in his head.
Lisette leaned against the wall, waiting outside, occasionally chatting with Gabriel.
Five minutes flew by fast.
Then-go time.
The room fell dead silent, all eyes on Owen and Grace as they stood face to face.
In the scene, Owen’s character-a mighty general-had been framed by a traitor inside their own kingdom. The king believed he was plotting a coup, stripped him of his command, and threw him into a dungeon.
Three months locked in.
Without their war genius leading the troops, their critical post had fallen under siege. No food. No ammo. No morale. If the city fell, the kingdom was doomed.
The king had second thoughts and secretly sent for the general, hoping he’d save them. But the general, disheartened and betrayed, refused to leave his cell.
As a last shot, the king sent in the only person who might change his mind-his wife, the royal princess.
“Babe p>
Grace’s voice trembled as she called out-and real tears rolled down her cheeks the second she saw him.
Owen looked torn up. Three months in a cell had worn him down. That spark in his eyes? Gone. Replaced by disappointment, sorrow, a kind of hollow despair. He looked like a ghost of the man he used to be.
When he caught sight of her, something shifted-like a flicker of life rekindled in his dead expression.
Grace ran up and threw her arms around him, sobbing. Her tears trickled down the side of his neck.
“Hiss p>
His barely functioning left arm got smashed into, and the sudden jolt of pain nearly made him yelp out loud.
Damn it!
He cursed in his head, seething: This witch! That’s not even in the script!
The scene was supposed to go down differently-
Three months apart, she should’ve cautiously approached the broken shell of the once-proud general. Her eyes should’ve filled with shock and pain at seeing him so changed-gaunt, hollow, barely holding it together.
She was supposed to hesitate, try to hug him but stop short. Her heart ached for him. She blamed herself for failing as the princess. She couldn’t convince her brother-the king-to trust this man, her husband. Couldn’t get him freed. Now, enemy forces were quite literally at the gates.
Owen clenched his jaw, sucking in a sharp breath to push past the pain.
No one called “cut,” so he had to keep going.
His neck veins popped from holding it in.
He shoved the throbbing pain aside, sinking fully into the role of the general.
His right hand lifted slowly, then dropped. Hesitated. Tried again. Finally rested gently on her trembling back.
With a rough, broken voice, he whispered, “You shouldn’t have come p>
Grace froze.
She’d tweaked the script on purpose, hoping to trip him up, throw him off balance so badly he’d flop and be out of the running.
But Owen caught her curveball and shot back with something completely off-script.
And damn-he nailed it.
It threw Grace for a loop.
She froze, struggling for a response. His improv had totally blindsided her.