Emma handed her the file, voice calm and precise.
"Take this home and read it carefully. If you like it, call me. I'll arrange your audition."
She added after a brief pause,
"All other characters are already finalized. This is the only role left. Once it's locked, the film will begin shooting from next week."
Emma looked at her steadily.
"If you take this role, it will be a small one. Your entire shooting schedule will finish within a month."
Elena nodded quietly, the file held firmly in her hands.
Just as Elena was about to leave, Lucas stopped her.
"Little Fire… you didn't give me your WeChat ID."
He looked at her like a lost puppy.
"How are we supposed to talk?"
Inside his mind, panic set in.
If Little Fire doesn't talk to me, how will she like me?
What if, while we're shooting separately, she meets someone else?
No. Unacceptable.
I need to talk to her every day, he decided firmly.
She has to see my care. My love.
Lost in his thoughts.
Elena, meanwhile, didn't even look back.
Elena glanced at Emma and said casually,
"Keep his mouth taped, Emma.
It's safer for everyone that way."
Emma paused—then nodded seriously,
Elena walked away without looking back.
Lucas instinctively moved to follow her—but Emma stopped him with a sharp look.
"Lucas, aren't you supposed to be shooting your film? What are you doing wandering around the company?"
He sighed dramatically.
"The female lead got injured. My scenes with her are postponed, so I got a break."
Emma crossed her arms.
"If you're free, I have a few advertisement offers. Look them over—I'll fix them for you. Too much free time makes your brain run in useless directions."
Lucas sulked.
"I just got free… and I haven't even taken my Little Fire's WeChat ID yet. And you're giving me more work?"
His shoulders drooped.
Emma sighed.
"Fine. No work. Take this break and rest."
Her gaze flicked to his swollen face.
"And get that face treated. Go to the hospital."
She pressed the intercom.
"Ryan, come in."
A moment later, Lucas's assistant, Ryan, stepped inside. Ryan stepped into the room, adjusting his jacket automatically—then stopped dead.
Lucas was standing near the desk.
His face was badly swollen. One eye had turned dark, almost black, and a thin trail of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth, stark against his pale skin.
Ryan's breath caught.
"Sir—!" He rushed forward instinctively.
"What happened?" His voice lowered at once.
"You're bleeding. Who did this to you?"
Lucas lifted his hand, stopping him mid-step.
He wiped the blood from his lip slowly, his movements unhurried. Instead of anger or pain, there was a faint, unreadable smile on his face—almost proud.
"This isn't an injury," Lucas said calmly.
"These are the marks of my goddess."
Ryan froze, unsure whether he'd heard that right.
Before he could react, Emma's sharp voice cut in. Emma studied Lucas for a second longer—then clicked her tongue in irritation.
"Enough," she said flatly.
She turned to Ryan.
"Take care of him. Take him to the hospital. Get his face treated properly."
Her gaze flicked back to Lucas, cold and merciless.
"He may have a face, but clearly he's lost his mind."
Ryan nodded without hesitation.
"Yes, ma'am." Emma turned sharply toward Ryan.
"Take him," she said.
"Now."
Ryan straightened at once.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll take him immediately."
As he turned to leave, Emma added without looking away from Lucas,
"And make sure this never reaches the media. Not a single whisper."
Ryan nodded seriously.
"Understood."
Emma's gaze flicked back to Lucas, her lips curving into a thin, sarcastic smile.
"Oh—and tell the doctor to check his head as well," she said coolly.
"Just to be sure nothing's missing."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
Emma continued, completely unfazed.
"It was half missing before," she added dryly.
"Looks like it's completely gone now."
Ryan coughed softly, trying not to laugh.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll inform the doctor."
Emma waved them off.
"Go. Before he loses whatever little sense he has left."
Lucas followed Ryan toward the door, utterly unbothered—
while Emma watched their backs, shaking her head ever so slightly. Elena had just stepped outside the company building when she noticed a familiar figure near the entrance.
Martha.
Her former agent.
Martha was dragging a suitcase behind her, arms full of files and boxes—everything she owned at the company, packed and discarded in a single morning.
Elena stopped.
Then she smiled.
A slow, sarcastic smile.
"Martha," Elena called out lazily.
The sound of that voice made Martha freeze.
She turned.
The moment her eyes landed on Elena, something ugly twisted inside them—rage, hatred, humiliation burning together.
Her.
Everything that was happening to her… Martha blamed Elena for all of it.
And the hatred doubled the instant she remembered what she'd learned that morning—
Elena's new agent was Emma Collins.
The same woman.
The girl who once stood silently behind her, who barely dared to speak in her presence—
That girl had destroyed her life.
Martha couldn't take it.
She dropped the box in her hands and rushed toward Elena, her face contorted with fury.
"You bitch!" Martha screamed.
"This is all because of you!"
She pointed wildly, voice shaking.
"I was thrown out of the company! That video—me and Mr. Wang—it went viral!"
"His wife left him! His family cut him off!"
Her eyes burned as she continued.
"And he blames me for everything! He made sure no company would ever hire me again!"
Martha lunged closer, breath uneven.
"You ruined my life, Elena!"
"I won't let you go!"
Elena didn't move.
She simply laughed.
A soft, amused laugh—cold enough to cut.
The next second, Elena caught Martha's wrist mid-air.
With one smooth motion, she twisted her grip, stepped in, grabbed Martha by the shoulder—
—and slammed her hard onto the ground.
Martha crashed down, gasping.
Elena looked down at her, smiling sweetly.
"No," Elena finished calmly,
"none of this happened because of me."
Her lips curved faintly.
"It happened because of you."
That was the last thread holding Martha together.
"You—!" Martha shrieked and lunged forward.
She never touched Elena.
In the next instant, Elena's hand shot out—grabbing Martha by the hair and yanking her head up sharply.
Martha's breath hitched as pain shot through her scalp.
Then she met Elena's eyes.
Cold.
Empty.
Terrifyingly calm.
Martha's throat tightened. Her voice died before it could escape.
Elena looked down at her as if she were something unpleasant she'd stepped on.
"You should be happy," Elena said softly, dangerously,
"that I didn't take you seriously."
Her grip tightened just enough to make the warning unmistakable.
"Otherwise," she continued lazily,
"what's happening to you right now would feel nice compared to what I'd do."
Martha's knees weakened.
Elena leaned closer, her voice dropping into a whisper that sliced through Martha's spine.
"So horrible," she added, almost thoughtfully,
"that even imagining it would make you shake."
She released Martha suddenly.
Martha collapsed to the ground, barely managing to stay upright.
Elena straightened, brushing her hands together as if wiping away dirt.
"So be happy," she said with a faint, mocking smile.
"Okay?"
She paused, then added coolly,
"I've decided to keep my hands clean in this life."
Her gaze sharpened.
"But remember this."
Elena looked straight at her.
"If you ever see me again—"
"change your path."
With that, Elena turned and walked away, her steps unhurried.
Behind her, Martha remained seated on the ground, frozen.
Her heart was pounding violently.
Elena walked away without looking back.
Martha stayed frozen.
Her body felt cold… her throat dry.
Only then did she realize—
she was scared.
Not because of the pain.
But because of Elena.
That calm gaze…
as if breaking her would take less than a second.
Martha swallowed hard.
Never again, she swore.
She would never provoke her.
Never scheme against her.
Never even dare to stand in her way.
....
When Elena returned home, her grandmother was watching TV in the living room.
"Oh, Ele, you're back?"
She smiled warmly.
"Come, sit with grandma and tell me about your day."
Elena quietly sat beside her.
Her grandfather was nearby too, pretending to read the newspaper while actually listening—his lips curved in an amused smile.
Then grandma suddenly sighed.
"I don't know what happened to your brother today.
He helped your mother, cleaned his room, and even your room by himself."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Ele… do you think Ivan is okay?
Has he gone crazy or something?"
Elena smiled—but said nothing.
Ivan finished all his chores at record speed.
Sweeping, wiping, arranging—
done like his life depended on it.
Once everything was finally over,
he went straight to Elena. The moment Ivan heard Elena's name, his steps slowed.
…This is it.
All the cleaning.
All the "good boy" behavior.
All the unpaid labor.
The results should be announced now.
He had actually come to ask Elena about game training time—
proper timing, serious practice, maybe even a little praise.
Instead, he stopped outside the room.
And then he heard it.
Grandma's voice floated out.
"I don't know what happened to your brother today.
He cleaned his room, helped your mother, even cleaned your room."
Ivan stiffened.
…Why does this sound less like appreciation and more like an investigation?
Grandma continued, suspicious as ever.
"Do you think he's okay?
Has he gone crazy?"
Ivan's smile cracked.
Crazy?
Grandma, this is called strategy.
He leaned closer, listening.
Elena said nothing—
which somehow felt more dangerous than if she had spoken.
Then Grandpa's calm voice landed like a verdict.
"If he's doing so well, he can clean our room too."
Ivan's soul left his body.
Wait—what?
This wasn't part of the deal.
Where is my reward? Where is my training session?
So this was the result.
He had come to ask about game practice,
but instead, the universe handed him extra chores.
Ivan sighed internally.
Lesson learned.
In this house, hard work doesn't level you up—
it unlocks bonus missions.
Ivan, who heard everything, protested dramatically.
"Grandma! What are you saying?
Do I look that abnormal to you?" Elena only laughed quietly.
Ivan immediately pointed at her.
"Sis, don't laugh!
I did all this for you, okay?"
Elena slowly turned to look at him.
"For me?"
Her tone was calm—but the meaning was deep.
Ivan cleared his throat.
"I mean… for you too.
You just got back from the hospital.
I didn't want you to get tired or stressed."
Elena simply smiled, saying nothing.
Grandma looked touched.
"My sweet children…" Another room?!
How much work do I have to do?
What about my game time?!
Elena lowered her head slightly and said sweetly,
"Grandpa, he'll manage."
Grandpa nodded.
Grandma smiled proudly.
"My good kids."
Ivan leaned closer to Elena and whispered desperately,
"Sis, please… no more work."
Grandma added dramatically,
"Look at your brother, Ele.
Do you really think he can handle so much?"
Elena looked at Ivan calmly.
"Yes. He can."
Ivan clutched his chest, pretending to be hurt.
Leo, who had been watching everything, walked over and teased,
"Wow, Ivan. You'll do anything just to play games, huh?"
Elena corrected him coldly. Elena didn't even look at them when she spoke.
"You two won't do anything," she said calmly.
"You'll do everything."
Her words landed like a verdict.
Ivan froze.
Leo shocked and then frowned.
"But sis… why me?"
Elena's lips curved slightly.
"Because someone came home very late from the internet café last night." and paused
Leo froze. Leo knew it was about him.
Last night.
The internet café.
Coming home late—after Dad had clearly forbidden it.
Elena didn't need to say his name.
The pause in her voice was enough. Leo felt a chill run down his spine.
If I don't stop sis right now, he thought,
this won't even take five minutes to reach Mom and Dad.
That thought alone was enough.
He surrendered before the sentence could finish. Leo straightened his back, looking almost offended.
"Work?" he repeated.
"I like working."
He spoke with such seriousness that it sounded convincing—even to himself.
"If I don't do any work, my whole day feels wrong.
My hands feel restless. My conscience suffers."
Grandpa glanced at him over his glasses.
"Since when has that happened?"
Leo smiled calmly.
"Since always. I just prefer working quietly. That's why no one ever notices."
Elena remained silent. Leo looked at Ivan.
Ivan looked at the mop.
This was it.
Without another word, they accepted their fate.