Chapter 3

There was silence on the other end of the line for two seconds.

Elina Conrad asked, "Have you thought this through?"

"Yes."

"I'll come to South Chilton tomorrow."

"Give me three more days."

Elina didn't press me for an explanation. She simply told me that the Callahan Group would hold a shareholders' meeting in three days.

I'd been away from Port Red for too long, and the Callahan family's collateral branches had already begun interfering in the group's affairs.

As long as I returned on time, the shares my father had temporarily placed under trust management, along with my inheritance rights, would be transferred back to me.

If I missed this meeting, things would become much more complicated.

"Bridger, I'll wait for you at South Chilton Airport in three days." Her voice remained composed, but I could hear the excitement she was struggling to contain.

"All right."

After hanging up, I opened my computer and drafted a statement announcing my retirement from the entertainment industry.

When I finished the last word, I didn't send it immediately. I needed to return to the set one more time.

The for this film was the final work left behind by my late acting mentor, Harlem Santos.

Two years earlier, I'd brought the to Zara. I'd personally selected Garrick, contacted the production team, and worked alongside the screenwriter through seven revisions.

I could give up the male lead, but I couldn't let Harlem's final work be ruined without explanation.

The next morning, I arrived on set wearing a mask. The swelling in my face hadn't gone down, and all I could hear in my right ear was a muffled noise.

Every eye around me turned toward me. Some people looked sympathetic. Others were waiting to see me make a fool of myself.

I headed for my old dressing room, only to be stopped by a production assistant.

"Bridger, this dressing room now belongs to Kyson." He pointed toward a room in the far corner. "Your space is over there."

It was an abandoned storage room piled high with prop boxes and broken lighting stands.

I didn't argue. I went inside and waited for twenty minutes.

The next scene was about to begin, but the makeup artist still hadn't arrived. I got up to look for her and found her standing beside Kyson, touching up his makeup.

Kyson saw me in the mirror and turned around with a smile. "I'm sorry, Bridger. I forgot to let you know. Zara assigned your makeup artist to me. From now on, she only works on my makeup."

He patted the cosmetics spread across the table. "These are mine, too. She said my face is precious and deserves the best products."

His assistant tossed several cardboard boxes at my feet. Inside were a few tubes of cheap foundation and opened eyeshadow palettes.

Kyson's smile widened. "Zara also said that with your experience, the products you use won't affect your acting."

Zara knew how sensitive my skin was. In the past, even when replacing a single concealer, she'd had someone check the ingredients first.

Now she'd given Kyson all the products I'd grown accustomed to using and handed me a pile of cheap makeup instead.

I was about to leave when I noticed a blue notebook lying in front of Kyson. It was the acting notebook I'd compiled for this role. Inside were character biographies, dialogue choices, and the final notes Harlem had left me before he died.

I reached for the notebook.

Kyson immediately pressed his hand against the other side. "Bridger, this is mine. My name is written inside the cover. Zara already gave it to me."

Right in front of me, he flipped to one of the pages.

"She said you'd spent two years preparing for this role. If I study your notes, I can save myself a lot of trouble."

The director, Garrick McCoy, approached with a in his hand and happened to hear those words. "Bridger, since you can't play the male lead anymore, helping guide a newcomer is still a way of taking responsibility for the film. Kyson just tried a scene using your approach, and it worked really well."

I looked at Garrick. "So when he copies my acting choices, that makes him talented?"

Garrick's expression turned uncomfortable. "We're all part of the same production. There's no need to draw such clear lines."

Kyson released the notebook and deliberately put on a wounded expression. "If you can't bear to part with it, you can have it back. I just think it's a waste for something this good to belong to someone who's only playing a supporting role."

I pulled the notebook back. "You can take my role and my dressing room, but you can't take what's inside my head."

Kyson's smile froze for a moment. He signaled to his assistant with his eyes.

A revised was thrown at my feet.

"Bridger, don't rush off just yet. Garrick just made some changes. You should take a look."

I opened the .

All the original standout scenes belonging to the male lead had been transferred to Kyson. My character had been rewritten into a vicious supporting antagonist who envied the male lead and repeatedly tried to sabotage him.

Dozens of pages of scenes between my character and the female lead had been deleted entirely.

Garrick walked up to me. "Don't just stand there. We're shooting your drowning scene next."

I jerked my head up.

When I was a child, I'd accidentally fallen into a lake and nearly drowned. Ever since then, whenever water rose above my chest, my heart raced and I struggled to breathe.

Zara knew about this. That's why every contract I'd signed explicitly prohibited filming any kind of drowning scene.

"This scene wasn't in the original ."

"It was just added." Garrick sounded impatient. "Kyson was worried you didn't have enough screen time, so he specifically asked for this scene on your behalf."

I flipped to the last page.

Beside the drowning scene, someone had added a line in red ink.

[The actor must perform the scene personally. No stunt doubles permitted.]