Chapter 444

Vivian pulled up a chair and sat down with a careless shrug. "You know what they say - all press is good press."

Within hours, Serena took to Instagram, posting: "I've always admired Ms. Hartley's creative genius. I must take partial responsibility for this unfortunate misunderstanding, as I failed to clarify my intentions properly. When I told Ivory Phoenix Productions how much I loved Ms. Hartley's unique style, the screenwriter misinterpreted my words. Rest assured, this project will be shelved immediately. Please show compassion to the writer - online harassment helps no one."

She concluded with: "Originality should always be celebrated in our industry."

The statement was a masterclass in damage control. While appearing to defend the writer, she'd essentially confirmed the plagiarism. Vivian wasn't worried about the social media storm; she doubted even Serena had anticipated this level of backlash. But with Serena involved now, she wondered how Adrian would navigate the situation.

Vivian lowered her lashes, concealing her unease. She knew Adrian's usual approach would be vague neutrality. Serena had always been his blind spot. Without meaning to, Vivian thought of Julian. If she treated Julian with the same leniency Adrian showed Serena, how would he react? The thought barely formed before she dismissed it, reminding herself Julian didn't deserve such comparisons.

After some light banter, filming resumed. With most key scenes completed, the atmosphere was relaxed. For lunch, the catering served crispy fried mackerel - allegedly caught by Damien himself at dawn. Vivian, a seafood enthusiast, eagerly reached for a piece. But as she brought it near her lips, an overpowering fish odor assaulted her senses. Was this really fresh? The pungency made her recoil.

She pinched her nose but forced down a bite. The moment she swallowed, bile rose in her throat. She dropped her fork and bolted for the nearest trash can, retching violently. The crew immediately abandoned their meals, rushing to her side.

"Vivian! Are you okay?"

Sebastian handed her a water bottle. After rinsing her mouth, Vivian waved weakly. "I'm fine. Probably just got a bad piece that wasn't cleaned properly."

Another cast member sampled the fish. "Tastes perfectly fine to me."

"Actually quite delicious," someone else added.

Remembering her sleepless night, Vivian offered, "Must be exhaustion messing with my stomach. I'll skip lunch." No one questioned further, murmuring sympathetic advice: "Don't overwork yourself. Writing and directing are separate beasts."

Damien, in his characteristic authoritative tone, casually remarked, "If you ever need quick funding, just name your next script. I'll advance sixty percent with a year's deadline. Don't waste your talent on problematic projects. True creativity needs inspiration, not commercial drudgery."

Vivian nodded. "Understood. Thank you, Mr. Vaughn."

Damien waved dismissively. "No thanks necessary. Your scripts are blue-chip investments. If anyone should be grateful, it's me for the privilege of working with you."

Their exchange concluded with mutual understanding, the matter settled between professionals.