Chapter 72: Why does this feel like us?
The room echoed with polite applause, the energy shifting as Wilsmith clapped his hands together.
"Now that everyone has introduced themselves, let us begin the table read."
Scripts shuffled. Pens clicked.
Fiona’s lips twitched as her gaze slid toward Anna. Just minutes ago, Anna had been seconds away from crumbling, drowning in her own nerves—and yet, somehow, she clawed her way back with a poise that made the room fall silent. That smile on her face, that quiet confidence—it grated Fiona like sandpaper. Lucky break. Let’s see how long you last.
Ignoring her irritation, Fiona forced herself to focus on the script.
Across the table, Daniel sat back, mask firmly in place. He slipped into denial of what he’d just witnessed—how Ethan, of all people, had steadied Anna without saying a word. The memory of her looking at him instead of her husband stabbed sharp in his chest. Still, when he saw Anna regain her composure, when he noticed her shoulders relax, some of that coil in his gut loosened.
’I’ll check on her after the table read,’ he resolved silently, eyes lingering longer than he intended.
Anna, meanwhile, felt her pulse settle, her breathing steady. A glance toward Ethan, paired with the small encouraging curve of his lips, was enough to ground her again. She returned the faintest smile before focusing on her script.
When her turn came, she closed her eyes for a heartbeat, recalled Ethan’s words—imagine you’re the only one in the room—and let Olive’s voice flow through her.
The neglected wife. The quiet woman whose love went unseen. A soul who gave everything yet received nothing until death granted her freedom.
Her voice didn’t tremble. It carried weight, sliding seamlessly into Olive’s melancholy, her restrained passion. The shift was so stark that even seasoned actors lifted their heads to watch her.
Daniel’s chest tightened. He’d seen her act before, briefly, as that hauntingly beautiful ghost—but this? This was different. This was Anna transformed. For the first time, he forgot to breathe, forgot to school his expression.
There was a depth in her tone, a familiar ache. The role of a woman who loved, who endured, who eventually let go.
’Why... why does this feel like us?’
The unsettling thought gnawed at him, twisting into something he couldn’t shake. And then, like an unwelcome shadow—Would she use this as her escape? Would she grow wings through this career, only to divorce me when she finally succeeds?
His jaw clenched, posture stiffening. A darkness flickered behind his eyes. No. That will never happen. Not until I decide it’s time.
By the time the table read concluded, Daniel’s cold mask had returned, sealing away every trace of what he had felt.
"Well done, everyone," Wilsmith cheered, clapping his hands once more. "I believe we have the foundation of something truly powerful here. Let’s all work hard to make this project a success."
His gaze flicked deliberately toward Daniel, as if weighing his approval. "I hope everything is according to your expectations, Mr. Clafford?"
Daniel’s lips curled into a faint smile, smooth as glass. "That’s why I agreed to invest in this project, Mr. Wilsmith. You’re one of the few directors I trust not to disappoint me."
Polite laughter. Nods of agreement.
Daniel straightened his cuffs, ready to take his leave. "It’s time for me to return. I’ll see you all during the shoot."
He shook Wilsmith’s hand and turned to go. But before he could step away, a honeyed voice called out—
"Mr. Clafford, one second please."
Daniel paused, eyes narrowing just slightly as Fiona rose gracefully from her seat. She wore a smile that had charmed countless men before, a smile she knew how to weaponize.
If Daniel didn’t already know better—if Henry’s reports hadn’t already painted Fiona Stewart for who she truly was—perhaps he might have been fooled like the rest.
But he wasn’t.
His gaze on her was serious, sharp enough to slice through her mask.
"Yes," Daniel said flatly, one hand sliding into his pocket as his eyes locked on Fiona, sharp and unyielding.
For a moment, Fiona faltered. The weight of his gaze made her shrink ever so slightly, but she quickly masked it with a smile she’d perfected over the years.
"I don’t know if you remember, but we met at one of the business galas. I accompanied my father, Allen Stewart," she said, recalling their brief introduction as if dangling a thread that might tie them together.
Daniel’s expression didn’t flicker. His response was as cold and cutting as winter air. "So?"
The single word was enough to slap the smile right off her face. Her lips parted in disbelief, fumbling for a reply. She had heard about his aloof nature, his sharp tongue, but to face it head-on—while she was trying to charm him—was a blow she hadn’t prepared for.
At the table, Anna’s gaze shifted instinctively toward them. Her brows furrowed, curiosity tugging at her. What are they talking about? The thought pricked at her, stirring unease in her chest. But just as she leaned forward, Ethan stepped casually into her line of sight, blocking the view with his tall frame.
"Focus," he murmured under his breath, pretending to adjust his script. "Don’t let her get under your skin."
Anna blinked up at him, caught off guard by his quiet intervention. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from Daniel and Fiona, confusion still gnawing at her.
Meanwhile, back near the door, silence stretched thin between Daniel and Fiona. Her carefully rehearsed charm unraveled at the seams.
"Is that all?" Daniel’s voice sliced through the pause, blunt and merciless.
Fiona’s throat worked as she swallowed, her confidence wobbling. She had wanted to play her cards—flaunt her looks, her pedigree, anything to catch his attention and inch her way into his good graces. Instead, her efforts crumbled like dust beneath the weight of his indifference.
"I... I thought it was worth mentioning," she stammered, sounding smaller than she intended, foolish even to her own ears.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed, unimpressed. "Move."
The word landed like a command, not a request.
Fiona stumbled back, heat rushing to her cheeks as she hastily gave way. Daniel didn’t spare her another glance. He walked past, his tall frame cutting a commanding figure as the door closed behind him.
Fiona remained rooted in place, staring at his retreating back, her fists curling at her sides. Her pride burned hotter than her failed attempt, but she knew better ways of winning his heart.
***
Anna looked Daniel walking out of the room when Ethan’s voice pulled her attention.
"You did good. Keep it up" Anna blinked sinking in to his words before forcing a smile.
"I simply followed your words" she muttered looking down hiding her weakness.
One thing that Anna hated the most about herself was how she would let her trauma triggered her. The helplessness felt like a claw around her neck almost making her look more vulnerable.
If not for Ethan, maybe she wouldn’t have pulled out. ’So yes all thanks to him’