Chapter 109

With Lydia out of sight, Vivian turned her full attention to crafting the sample screenplay. The story unfolded as a modern love story, a genre she could write in her sleep. Yet the female lead bore an uncanny resemblance to Serena—all angelic smiles masking a viper's cunning. Vivian couldn't fathom why such characters were suddenly in vogue among producers.

Had this been under her Katrina pseudonym days, she'd have rejected the project outright, even for a hundred million. But with bills piling up, she swallowed her pride and tailored the script to their exact specifications.

Ivory Phoenix Productions reviewed the draft with palpable excitement. "Brilliant work," the executive said, fingers steepled. "We'll pay a million for this. Though we don't usually charge hefty commissions..."

"Then we're agreed," Vivian cut in. "But I require sixty percent upfront. My situation is... pressing. If that's unacceptable, I'll take this elsewhere."

Meanwhile at the production office, the CEO was weighing Vivian's terms when a voice startled him. "Working late again?"

He looked up to find Serena Whitmore framed in the doorway, designer shopping bags dangling from both arms. Oversized Chanel sunglasses obscured half her face, but the downward tilt of her glossed lips spoke volumes.

"Your visits always extend my workday," he quipped, hastily relieving her of the bags. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Serena glided to his desk, settling into the leather chair with practiced grace. Removing her sunglasses, she tapped manicured nails against the mahogany surface. "Just passing through the neighborhood."

Her expression hardened. "About that script I requested? It's been seven days with zero updates."

Her social media metrics were hemorrhaging followers. She needed a knockout script—one with a protagonist mirroring her own carefully cultivated image—to salvage her crumbling reputation. Established writers refused such transparent vanity projects, forcing her to this fledgling studio desperate for A-list clients.

"Your project is our top priority," the CEO soothed, handing her a crystal glass of sparkling water before pulling up a file. "But look what I found—a fresh talent whose writing rivals Katrina's golden era. Given time, she'll be unstoppable."

Serena's skeptical gaze flickered across the screen. By the final page, her shoulders relaxed. "This... is shockingly good. Miles above that Blazing Horizon trainwreck I'm stuck in." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Sign her immediately. The industry's drowning in garbage scripts—I need material like this for my rebrand."

The CEO hesitated. "There's a complication. She's demanding sixty percent upfront due to... financial constraints."

Serena rolled her kohl-rimmed eyes. "Just pay the woman. Real talent's rarer than ethical producers in this town—why are we even discussing this?"

Her diamond bracelet clinked against the desk as she reached for her phone. "Transfer the advance from my account if you must. I want this script locked down before sunrise."

Outside, the city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds as Vivian's phone chimed with an incoming wire notification. The numbers made her breath catch. Enough to cover three months of Richard's medical bills.

She saved the transaction receipt as Serena's latest Instagram post loaded—a pouty selfie captioned "Found my next iconic role ✨". Vivian's lips twisted. Little did the star know she'd just bankrolled her own carefully crafted downfall.

The real performance was only beginning.