(16) Our First Memento

"Cut!" Samuel suddenly said. He had gestured for Charity to speak to him, his expression one of mild frustration.

Violet smiled happily at her plan, the smile of a cat who'd cornered its prey. She glanced around while noticing how the crew were wondering what happened to Charity. Why didn't she deliver her line? Whispers began to spread like wildfire.

"My script wasn't updated. I am so sorry for the mistake." Charity immediately told Samuel as she read the script from his copy, her voice apologetic.

"Well... we can't afford to wait for a few more hours to retake this scene." Samuel said, a little frustrated. He checked his watch, the time constraints pressing down on everyone.

"No, no. I can do it right now." Charity responded, a little apologetic but determined. She straightened her posture, her chin lifting slightly.

"Dear, do you need some help with the script?" Violet asked as Charity approached the set again. All eyes were on them now. "I understand it's too big of a role for a beginner like you. It happens, especially in inexperienced actresses. Been there once."

Violet's backhanded concern was not that oblivious. The words were carefully chosen, designed to wound while appearing to help. The crew shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension.

Charity simply smiled, still proper, her composure unshakeable.

"I won't let it happen again." She replied simply, her voice steady as steel.

"Action!"

The scene restarted, Violet and Desmond arriving once more. The cameras rolled, capturing every nuance of the performance.

"Oh, I remember those treats. Our mother used to teach me how to bake them." Violet delivered her line again with ease. Even though she knew Charity might reply correctly this time, she was already satisfied that the other woman had been humiliated in front of the crew. The damage was done, or so she thought.

"And she used to say, she bakes it for her husband." Charity spoke the exact line for her as she sipped tea. She glanced at Violet with a knowing glint, her eyes carrying a message that only Violet could read: I see what you're doing.

Then, she added, "To our husband too, isn't it, Sister?"

"H-huh?" Violet let out a confused rambling. That question wasn't in the script. Did Charity just improvise?

"What do you mean by that?" Desmond suddenly answered too, catching up with the improvised script Charity had added to the scene. His eyes widened slightly, he was a professional, and he knew how to roll with an unexpected curveball.

Only Violet looked confused as she panicked on screen, but no one said anything, not even Samuel. The cameras continued rolling, capturing every moment of her discomfort.

"S-Sister..." She tried to salvage whatever she could from the scene and continue, reaching for some line, any line, that might rescue her.

But Charity immediately shut her down.

"Too bad, Sister. I've been married to His Majesty for so long, I couldn't understand his taste at all. Maybe he likes it bland, or pretentious like this one." Charity picked up a decorated macaron without its filling and placed it on an empty plate, handing it over to Violet's side of the table. "Like what you always do, Sister."

Violet sat in her chair, face ridden with a red hue.

The cameras caught every detail, the flush creeping up her neck, the tightness around her eyes, the way her hands gripped the armrests of her chair. She clearly had no lines prepared, and she was the type of actress that didn't improvise.

Now, she just remained in her chair, frozen, as Desmond and Charity exchanged lines that were out of her grasp.

The scene continued, Violet ensnared in her own trap, unable to speak, unable to act, unable to do anything but sit there like a monument to her own hubris.

When Samuel finally called the cut, the silence that followed was deafening.

"Beautiful," Samuel said, his voice reverent. "That's a wrap on that scene. Charity, Desmond, excellent work. That improvisation was inspired."

Charity inclined her head graciously. "Thank you, Mr Collins."

Violet stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She glared at Charity, her composure cracking at the edges. "That was unprofessional."

"Was it?" Charity asked, her tone mild. "I thought I was simply... adapting to the scene. You of all people should understand that. Experience and all."

The other actresses hid their smiles behind their hands. The crew pretended to be busy with equipment. But everyone had seen it, the moment Violet Collins had been thoroughly, completely outplayed.

Desmond moved to stand beside Charity, his expression one of grudging respect. "Well played," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." She playfully responded with a slight smile. "I had a good teacher."

"Who?"

"Life." She walked away, leaving him standing there with a bemused expression.

Violet watched her go, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Wane approached her cautiously, a new coffee in hand.

"Violet..."

"Get out of my sight," she snapped.

Wane nodded quickly, retreating from the storm gathering in her eyes.

Outside the greenhouse, Charity found Paige waiting with a fresh bottle of water. He handed it to her, his expression one of barely contained glee.

"You saw that?" she asked, taking a sip.

"Everyone saw that." He grinned. "Violet looked like she'd swallowed a lemon. That was art. Pure art."

She shook her head, allowing herself a small smile. "She started it."

"And you finished it." Paige clapped her on the shoulder. "Now, about your next scene. They want you in make-up in thirty minutes."

"Of course they do." Charity sighed, already moving toward the makeup trailer. "Any word from... the other matter?"

Paige glanced around, ensuring no one was listening. "He called. Said he'll be in the city for the next few months. Wants to see you at the new place."

Charity's steps faltered. "The new place."

"The one he bought. The card he gave you."

"Right." She remembered the address, burned into her memory. "Of course. Because he can't possibly just send a message like a normal person."

---

That night, Charity wore a simple outfit with her baggage carried by the condominium staff. She read the dark golden letters etched at the key card Lucas gave her. She just can't wait to see what sort of luxury Lucas is about to slap on her face again, as much as she hates it.

The scanner at her door beeped and it opened on its own. Charity stepped inside to be welcomed by the amazing city view from the living room and the huge space only for her.

"Hey." A male's voice called out, terrifying Charity that she gasped.

A sudden flash of light snapped in her eyes. Charity blinked to see Lucas standing right there, holding the latest camera as he stared at her horrified picture.

"Quite a photo." He shrugged, ignoring the way Charity looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" She demandingly asked.

"We can't live far from each other, can we?" Lucas casually said as he grabbed the baggage Charity had.

"So nice of you." Charity sarcastically said. Did he hit his head or something? Since when was he this... a little bit of nice?

"Drop the hostility for a moment." Lucas rolled his eyes. He pulled Charity inside and closed the door then swiftly led her into the kitchen. "You arrived earlier than expected. Would you care to help?"

"Oh, you're cooking dinner?" She was surprised to see the neat kitchen and arranged ingredients sprawled on the table.

"Yes. Did you expect a private chef instead?" He mockingly asked.

"Cooking is a basic skill." Charity scoffed in rebuttal. She walked over to the boiling pot where an aromatic scent was coming from. "What do you need me here for?"

"Here." Lucas grinned. He suddenly grabbed her waist and lifted her.

Charity was shocked that she grabbed onto his arms. Then, she was placed on the island facing the stove.

"You!" Her face flushed but she couldn't bring herself from cursing as Lucas suddenly brought a spoonful of broth close to her lips. He blew on it gently and gestured that she taste it.

Charity glared at him, but unbeknownst to her, Lucas had other things in mind. The way her eyes only reflected him with that passionate anger, the way her luscious lips parted and her tongue grazed the broth he made himself.

"H-huh?!" Charity was so shocked after she tasted the broth that Lucas pulled away the spoon and swiftly pressed their lips together.

The taste of the broth mingled between their mouths.