Chapter 42

Audrey's message exploded in Vivian's inbox like a grenade—a damning screenshot that validated her darkest fears. Without hesitation, Vivian forwarded the smoking gun to Lydia.

Lydia, who'd been struggling to contain the PR nightmare, unleashed a torrent of voice messages. "Now we've got the ammunition to expose the mastermind behind this circus. Remember those unaired audition tapes? I'm tracking them down. Once we leak those clips, that snake will finally get what's coming to her."

"Seriously though, what's her obsession with destroying you? From your first day in this industry, Serena's been sabotaging your every move. Now this? She's practically trying to erase you from Hollywood! Probably thinks she's untouchable with Adrian Blackwood backing her. But mark my words—this time, she's going down. No more playing nice."

The second audition's shady circumstances—only two candidates and questionable financial arrangements—had convinced the director to skip proper documentation. Exactly as Serena had planned, leaving Vivian defenseless.

When Vivian shared this detail, Lydia's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Then let's dig up Serena's disastrous first audition. Even with twenty actresses competing, her mediocre performance somehow landed the lead role. Imagine the scandal if that footage surfaces. Might even inspire someone to... handle the problem for us."

Vivian trusted Lydia's strategic brilliance implicitly. As she was about to respond, her phone buzzed with an unexpected message from her entertainment lawyer handling her screenplay contracts. "Ms. Hartley, are you awake?"

The deal had closed weeks ago. Vivian frowned at the odd timing. "I'm up. What's wrong?"

The lawyer sounded both excited and cautious. "Ivory Phoenix Productions wants an in-person meeting regarding your screenplay."

Vivian's grip tightened on her phone. "Why?" She'd deliberately avoided direct contact with buyers, preferring to let her legal team handle negotiations. This sudden request set off alarm bells.

"They're extremely passionate about your script. Apparently they're rushing production to compete with 'Blazing Horizon'—which Serena Whitmore just signed onto as lead. With most A-list actresses already committed to other projects, they're considering open auditions. They want your input as the writer during casting."

The realization struck Vivian like lightning.

The protagonist in her script was essentially her fictional doppelgänger—no one could play that role better than herself. Serena had stolen not just her fiancé but now her dream role, all while orchestrating this smear campaign. The message was clear: Serena wanted her erased from the industry.

But Vivian had reached her breaking point. As opportunities dwindled, fate had just handed her a loaded gun.

Her fingers flew across the screen. "No need for auditions. I already have the perfect lead. Set up the meeting."

Meanwhile, as twilight painted the sky, the Blackwood Group headquarters stood mostly dark—except for one illuminated corner office. Adrian sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm. His assistant Ethan entered with the latest social media analytics report.

The numbers were catastrophic.

Adrian's jaw clenched as he scanned the trending hashtags—all variations of #VivianHartleyIsOver. His phone buzzed with Serena's tenth call of the evening. He silenced it without looking.

Something wasn't adding up. The timing was too perfect, the backlash too coordinated. Someone had orchestrated this takedown, and Adrian had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly who.

Ethan cleared his throat. "Sir, the board is demanding—"

"Tell them to wait," Adrian snapped, pulling up Vivian's contact. His thumb hovered over the call button. Three years of silence between them. Would she even answer?

Across town, Vivian stood before her floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the same sunset paint the skyline crimson. Her phone vibrated with an unknown number. Something—instinct, perhaps—made her answer.

"Vivian Hartley." Her professional tone belied the storm of emotions.

A beat of silence. Then that voice—the one that still haunted her dreams—whispered through the receiver: "We need to talk."