Mornings on the Upper East Side are never truly quiet, yet inside the guest room of Victoria's residence, the silence felt so thick that Scarlett could hear the beating of her own heart. She woke before the alarm on her cracked phone rang, as if her nerves had installed an automatic radar within her.
On the bed lay a dress that seemed to have descended straight from Scarlett's wildest dream. A champagne-colored silk slip dress, its heavy fabric shimmering softly under the bedside lamp. The cut was simple yet undeniably elegant, with an open back and stitching that followed the curves of the body with perfect precision. Beside it, a pair of matching high heels and a velvet box containing small pearl earrings waited.
Scarlett touched the silk fabric with trembling fingertips. This is too beautiful, she thought. She remembered her floral cotton dresses in Carmel, the ones she used to wear while walking along the beach. This dress was not just clothing. It was a statement. A luxurious armor that felt both foreign and intimidating.
"Do I deserve this?" she whispered to the empty room. She felt like a child trying on her mother's shoes, afraid that if she wore the dress, she would only look like a pitiful imposter.
A knock on the door broke her thoughts. Before Scarlett could answer, the door opened and two men walked in with an aura as if they had just stepped off a Fashion Week runway.
"Oh, darling, wake up! We have less than three hours to turn this 'sweet beach girl' into a 'scene stealer'!" the first man exclaimed. He wore a lavender linen suit with a silk scarf tied asymmetrically around his neck. His sharp eyes behind gold-framed glasses scanned Scarlett from head to toe.
"Scarlett, let me introduce you, this is Ben," Victoria's voice came from behind the door. "He is the fashion stylist who will make sure your world does not collapse because of a wrong outfit. And the calm one over there is Kyle, the genius behind some of Hollywood's most iconic faces."
Kyle, a man with neatly tied hair and a large leather bag slung over his shoulder, simply nodded politely. "Good morning, Scarlett. Don't be nervous. Your face is a very honest canvas. I like that."
Scarlett stood awkwardly beside the bed, pulling her oversized sweater tighter around her. "I… I thought I could get ready on my own."
Ben scoffed, a sound that resembled a dismissive laugh, though not unkind. "On your own? In New York? For an indie audition with a director as hard as stone? No, darling. You need us. Now, shower and put on that dress. We don't have time to negotiate."
The transformation process felt like a sacred ritual that confused Scarlett. Ben instructed her to stand straight, turning her body over and over while muttering critiques about her posture. "Shoulders back, Scarlett! You are not carrying a basket of fish on the dock. You are a woman carrying a great secret in her chest!"
Meanwhile, Kyle worked in a calming silence. His cool fingers touched Scarlett's face gently. He did not cover her with heavy makeup. Instead, he highlighted her defined cheekbones and added a warm peach tone to her lips. Scarlett's honey-brown hair, usually left untamed, was styled into soft waves that fell elegantly over one shoulder.
"Look," Kyle whispered after two hours had passed. He turned Scarlett's chair toward the large mirror.
Scarlett froze. The figure in the mirror had her eyes, her face, yet her aura had transformed. She looked like someone who had stepped out of a classical painting. Her face appeared fresh, yet there was a depth of emotion in her eyes that now shone stronger thanks to Kyle's touch. The dress embraced her body in a way that made her feel… powerful.
"Who is she?" Scarlett murmured without realizing.
"That's you, Scarlett," Ben patted her shoulder, a satisfied smile on his thin lips. "Just a braver version. Now walk in front of Julian without tripping over your own feet, and you've already won half the battle."
Scarlett took a deep breath. For the first time since stepping into New York, a small yet sharp confidence began to grow within her. She was no longer the unfortunate girl who had been pickpocketed. She was Scarlett Aurora Whitmore, ready to fight.
Her footsteps sounded soft against the wooden floor as she walked down the stairs toward the main hall. Down there, Victoria stood with Julian.
Julian was sipping his coffee while reading a script on his phone, but the sound of silk brushing made him look up. Instantly, his movement froze. The coffee cup lingered in midair.
Julian's dark blue eyes widened for a moment before he regained his composed expression, though he could not hide the slight pause in his breath. He looked at Scarlett, from her flowing hair to the tip of her heels, with an intensity that made the air in the hall suddenly feel thinner.
"Julian? Are you still there?" Victoria nudged her grandson's arm with a victorious smile.
Julian cleared his throat and placed his cup down a little too hard on the table. "Not bad," he said coldly, though his eyes were reluctant to look away. "At least you no longer look like someone who just robbed a thrift store."
Scarlett did not lower her gaze this time. She met Julian's eyes with her chin slightly lifted. "Thank you for such a… warm compliment, Mr. Caldwell."
Ben and Kyle, who stood behind Scarlett, whispered to each other. "Look at Julian's eyes," Ben murmured. "He is trying not to be captivated, but his jaw is tightening. We just made the emperor feel threatened by the beauty of a commoner."
Before they left, Ben leaned closer to Scarlett. "Remember one thing, darling. We will make Julian admit that you are a megastar, even if it burns his ego to ashes. Now go and own that room."
The ride to the audition location in Greenwich Village felt quiet. Julian sat in the back seat with Scarlett, yet the distance between them felt like a wide chasm. He kept looking out the window, but Scarlett could feel that he was watching her through the reflection.
"The script," Julian suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. "Have you memorized it?"
"Yes," Scarlett replied briefly.
"Don't just memorize the words. The character, Elara, she is not a sad girl. She is an angry girl because she has no choice. If you only cry, the director will ask you to leave immediately."
"I know," Scarlett clenched her fingers. "I will give him what he needs."
Julian turned, looking at her differently. No longer mocking, but as if testing the strength of a gemstone. "We'll see. New York doesn't care how beautiful your dress is when the lights start to dim."
The audition was held in an old theater hidden in a cobblestone alley. As soon as Scarlett stepped inside, her courage shrank. The waiting room was filled with incredibly beautiful girls. Some of them were faces she had seen in commercials or teen TV series. They looked glamorous, confident, exchanging deadly fake smiles.
At the end of the room stood a large wooden door, tightly shut. Behind it, they said, sat a director named Arthur Vance, an old-fashioned man known for firing actors in the middle of filming just because they misplaced the emphasis on a single word.
"Number forty-two, Scarlett Whitmore!" called an assistant holding a clipboard.
Scarlett's body froze. Her hands suddenly turned cold. The confidence she had built with Ben and Kyle seemed to evaporate under the flickering fluorescent lights. She glanced at Julian, who stood near the wall with his arms crossed.
Julian stepped closer. He leaned down, his face only a few inches from Scarlett's ear. His citrus and leather scent filled her senses again.
"Don't look at them," Julian whispered, his voice low and sharp. "They are all wearing masks. You have something they don't: a painful honesty. Go in there and make them uncomfortable for having seen what is inside you."
The words sounded harsh, but to Scarlett, they became an anchor. She looked into Julian's eyes, finding a challenge, and perhaps encouragement, within them. She gave a small nod, adjusted her dress, and stepped into the dark room.
Inside, there was only one spotlight directed at the center of a small stage. In the darkness, Arthur Vance sat with a bored expression.
"Begin," Arthur said without preamble.
Scarlett stood in the light. She closed her eyes for a moment. She thought of Carmel, of her mother, of what it felt like to stand alone in Manhattan with an empty wallet. She turned that fear into Elara's anger.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer Scarlett.
Her lines flowed like boiling water. She did not cry dramatically. Her voice remained calm, yet filled with restrained desperation. She used the technique Julian had taught her the night before, using breath at the end of each sentence to make it feel like her final breath.
The room fell completely silent. Arthur Vance, who had been leaning back, slowly straightened. Julian, standing in the shadows near the entrance, did not take his eyes off Scarlett. He was captivated. This girl was no longer an amateur. She had an aura that could pull all attention in the room toward her alone.
When Scarlett delivered her final line, she let the silence linger for a few seconds. She stood there, her breath slightly uneven, her eyes still glistening yet sharp.
"That's enough," Arthur Vance said, this time without boredom. There was a spark of interest in his eyes. "Thank you, Scarlett. We will contact you."
Scarlett stepped out of the room with a strange emptiness. Her legs felt light, as if she had just poured half of her soul onto that stage. She did not know whether she would get the role, but she knew one thing: she had given everything.
Julian was waiting outside. He did not speak immediately. He simply looked at Scarlett in a way that was completely different from before. His gaze was deeper, darker, and held something she could not define, like respect built upon a foundation of dislike.
"What do you think?" Scarlett asked softly, trying to steady her heartbeat.
Julian stepped closer, his hand briefly moving as if to touch the silk on her arm, but he stopped himself and stood very near.
"You did what I told you," Julian said, his voice almost a whisper. "You made them uncomfortable. And you made me… unable to stop looking at you."
Julian quickly looked away, as if regretting what he had just said. "Let's go. Victoria is waiting for the report."
Scarlett smiled faintly, a sincere smile of victory. As she followed Julian toward the car, she realized that her new world had just begun to open. And at the center of it was Julian Caldwell, who was slowly losing control over his own walls of ice.
But inside his suit pocket, Julian's phone vibrated. A message appeared from a number he had long blocked, now haunting him again.
'I saw your new girl at the audition earlier, Julian. Very sweet. See you at the party tomorrow.'
A new tension crept across Julian's face, a shadow from the past ready to test everything.