Chapter 23: A Woman's War
"What did you come in here for?"
William didn't follow Katya's lead at all. Instead, he cut straight to the point.
The abrupt, almost oppressive shift in tone immediately snapped Katya into work mode. She stepped forward and handed over the documents in her arms.
"These are the procurement lists and the actors' payroll slips. They need your signature."
As she spoke, she placed the files neatly on William's desk.
From time to time, her gaze flicked sideways—subtle, restrained—but unmistakably directed at Nicole Kidman, who was still adjusting her clothes nearby.
Nicole, for her part, showed no sign of discomfort.
She tidied herself openly and calmly, as if nothing awkward had happened at all.
To be fair, that level of composure was practically a basic skill for a professional actress.
"Anything else?" William asked when he noticed Katya lingering instead of leaving.
"No," Katya replied. Then she added coolly, "Just a reminder—this is the studio lot. If something leaks out, I don't think I need to spell out the consequences."
As she spoke, her eyes met Nicole's directly.
The message was clear:
Watch yourselves. This was not a private space. Rumors could be deadly here—and harmful to everyone involved.
"First of all, thank you for the reminder," Nicole said lightly.
"Secondly, I think if someone knocked before coming in, things wouldn't have been awkward in the first place."
Her tone was smooth, polite—and razor-sharp.
She then turned to William with a smile.
"So we're agreed about the agency. I'll be heading out. See you."
With a casual wave, Nicole left the office, her steps deliberately unhurried, her figure swaying with unrestrained confidence.
She didn't say another word—but every movement was an unspoken display.
Katya understood the provocation instantly.
Her eyes narrowed.
Even though she and William weren't that kind of relationship, Nicole's open, unapologetic display still rubbed her the wrong way. It was intentional—and it was aimed squarely at her.
"Hey. Earth to Katya," William said, snapping her out of it.
"What—do you like women now?"
"You're the one who likes women," Katya shot back immediately.
"That woman isn't simple. She's the poisonous kind. If you don't want to be swallowed whole, I suggest you stay sharp around her."
Her warning was blunt—and sincere.
William listened to Katya's advice while rapidly signing the documents—swish, swish, swish—his pen never pausing.
During a brief lull, he glanced up at her.
Her expression was hard to describe. It was the look of someone who had just identified an enemy—and was already calculating the most efficient way to eliminate them.
Not jealousy.
Something colder.
Just as Katya turned to leave, William called out, "Wait."
"What now?" She shot him a glare over her shoulder. The unmistakable pressure of her Russian bloodline rolled straight at him. "Weren't you just trying to kick me out?"
"Give me two minutes," William said calmly, still signing. "I'm almost done."
Katya snorted. "You really should hire a secretary. I'm your accountant, not your assistant. This is already outside my job scope."
"Help me out this once," William replied. "As a friend. I'll hire a secretary soon."
A moment later, he finished reviewing the documents, signed the last page, and handed the stack back to her.
"You barely glanced at these," Katya said suspiciously. "Aren't you afraid I'll screw you over? You know, if you sign blindly like this, I could transfer the entire studio into my name without breaking a sweat."
William smiled faintly.
Reincarnation hadn't just strengthened his body—it had sharpened his mind as well.
Those documents? One glance had been enough for him to fully understand every clause and implication.
Every signature was correct.
If Katya wanted to trick him, it would take something bordering on the impossible.
Of course, he wasn't about to explain that.
It was his secret.
And his trump card.
"First," he said, "I trust you."
Katya wasn't touched—but her mood improved slightly. Everyone liked hearing that.
"Second," William shrugged, "if you wanted to screw me over, you wouldn't have waited this long, would you?"
"Tch. Suka." Katya muttered something in Russian under her breath. "One day I'll sell you off, and you won't even have time to cry."
She grabbed the documents and left the office.
Watching her go, William wondered if he should start learning Russian. Not understanding half the insults directed at him was starting to get annoying.
Shaking his head, he stood up and followed her out.
---
Inside the soundstage, a temporary set made of light wooden panels had been erected.
On a bed, an average-looking but heavily muscled Black actor was tangled up with a white woman, bodies moving in practiced rhythm.
Of course, nothing explicit—real action was illegal.
A cameraman held a stabilizer, capturing tight close-ups of the two performers.
The same scene was being shot simultaneously on the open space beside it—only this time, the backdrop had been switched to a kitchen.
This was William's current specialty.
Black man, white woman.
Change the setting, change the tone—and voilà, a brand-new Adult Valley production.
"Sir, do you have a moment?"
William turned to see Anthony—the man currently managing the girls on José's behalf.
"What is it, Anthony?"
"José asked me to pass along his thanks," Anthony said flatly. "Regarding the matter with Nancy—the traitor."
"He's already taken care of her. You won't be bothered by someone that rude again, Mr. Blake."
William narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't gratitude.
It was a warning.
Nancy had tried to go solo—and how long had it been?
A day?
And she was already "taken care of."
William didn't know exactly what José had done to her, but he had no illusions: her ending wouldn't be pleasant.
That said, Nancy's fate didn't concern him.
If she was dead, she was dead.
"Also," Anthony continued, tone unchanged, "José would like you to train a new top performer as soon as possible. Nancy's position needs to be filled."
The threat was wrapped neatly in professionalism.
William nodded without expression. "Understood. I'll let José know I'll handle it."
He turned and walked out of the soundstage.
Anthony watched him leave, then turned back to supervise the girls.
Outside, William rubbed his temples.
He'd known working with gangsters would come with complications—but now it felt like he was being slowly cornered.
I need to cut José loose, he thought grimly.
If this continues, there's no way his greed stops here.
"You look troubled," a voice said beside him. "Something happen?"
William turned.
A woman stood there, a cigarette between her lips, watching him with curious eyes.