Chapter 77: I am ready whenever you are
Fiona had barely stepped into her apartment when her assistant came skidding down the hallway, phone clutched tight, face pale.
"Madam—th-the girls... they’re being sued. They’re begging for your help."
Her voice trembled enough to make Fiona freeze.
"What?" Fiona’s eyes widened, dread sliding cold down her spine.
After the fiasco outside the studio she’d finally let herself relax, convinced the mess had been contained—Anna had publicly spared the girls and even Wilsmith had dropped the matter. But now—?
"How is that possible?" she demanded, heels clicking sharply as she strode forward. "Anna forgave them. Even Wilsmith did. Then who-"
The assistant shook her head, fumbling with her phone. "It’s not Miss Anna or Director Wilsmith. They’re both unaware. The charge... it came from someone who hasn’t revealed their name."
For a beat Fiona simply stared, stunned. Then she scoffed, a brittle laugh escaping.
"Nonsense. Those two idiots are just spinning a sob story to squeeze money out of me. Who else would even care enough to sue them?"
The assistant’s fingers tightened around her phone, but she said nothing.
Fiona’s expression hardened, the soft glamour of her features sharpening like glass. She stepped closer until her assistant shrank back.
"Nana," she said, her voice low and edged with ice, "make sure those girls keep their mouths shut. If a single word—just one slips that points back to me..." She leaned in, her smile razor-thin. "...you’ll be the one paying the price."
Nana swallowed hard and nodded quickly, fear flashing across her face.
"Good." Fiona straightened, dismissing her with a flick of her hand. "Now go. Do exactly what I said."
The girl fled down the corridor, her hurried footsteps fading.
Left alone, Fiona exhaled slowly, the false warmth melting from her face. The night’s failures replayed in her mind—her carefully laid plan to humiliate Anna had crumbled the moment everyone rallied to the girl’s side.
Her nails tapped against her phone, a slow, deliberate rhythm.
"That doesn’t mean I’ll let you off so easily, Anna," she murmured, a cruel smile curving her lips. "You may have everyone wrapped around your little finger, but in the end..." Her eyes narrowed, glinting with malice. "...you’ll dance to my tune."
***
The day slipped past like water through Anna’s fingers, and still she couldn’t bring herself to return home.
Ethan’s plan to spend the evening with her had fallen through—some last-minute work called him away—and just like that, she was left wandering the city alone.
After leaving the studio, Anna drifted into a quiet park. She sat on a bench and watched children shriek with laughter, chasing one another through the golden wash of sunset until the watchman’s whistle signaled the gates were closing.
"I seriously don’t want to face Daniel."
Her jaw tightened, the memory of his smooth lies replaying like a thorn in her mind. Yet beneath the anger, a colder fear coiled ’what if he’s already told my father about the film?’
If Hugo Bennett learned she was acting—pursuing a dream he’d crushed once before—there would be consequences. Lecture. Control. Punishment.
Hours had passed and no call had come. Maybe Hugo didn’t know yet. Maybe Daniel hadn’t said a word.
"Maybe Dad doesn’t know about it yet," she whispered, staring at the blank screen of her phone before shoving it deep into her pocket.
By the time she finally turned toward home, night had already settled. The mansion loomed ahead, windows lit like watchful eyes. Anna stopped at the gate, her breath catching.
"Is Daniel back?" She scanned the driveway. No car.
"Phew." Relief loosened her shoulders. "Thank God he isn’t home yet."
Inside, the quiet felt like a blessing. The events of the day—the flying eggs and tomatoes, the humiliation in front of strangers—clung to her like a second skin.
"Ugh, I smell like a grocery disaster." She pinched a damp strand of hair and grimaced at the sour scent.
In a hurry she peeled off her ruined clothes and stepped under the shower. Warm water cascaded over her, carrying away the stink of yolk and crushed tomatoes, easing the ache in her muscles. By the time she emerged wrapped in a soft robe, her body felt light again.
Fresh clothes, clean hair yet her mind refused to settle. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock. Any moment now Daniel could return, and the thought tightened something inside her chest.
Are you afraid?
The sudden voice jolted her. Anna spun, heart hammering.
"Who’s there?"
Over here.
Her gaze landed on the mirror across the room. She stepped closer, almost against her will.
Her own reflection stared back but the faint, knowing smile wasn’t hers.
Anna blinked. "Why... why am I talking to myself?"
Because you need someone to tell the truth, the reflection answered softly. You’re scared of facing Daniel.
Anna straightened, forcing a scoff. "No, I’m not. I’m waiting to confront him—for lying to me."
Lying? The mirrored version tilted her head, eyes sharp. And you? Haven’t you hidden things from him first? If you’ve kept your own secrets, why does his sting so much?
Anna’s breath caught. Words failed her.
It wasn’t as if the voice was wrong. She had kept her own secrets—about her dreams, her sister, her investigation. Yet Daniel’s silence had ignited her anger.
’Why, then, did his hidden truths hurt more than her own?’
Just as Anna opened her mouth to answer the voice in the mirror, a soft knock cut through the air.
She spun toward the door—when she glanced back, the reflection had already shifted back to its usual self. No sly smile. No knowing eyes.
Her pulse stuttered, but she quickly schooled her expression and called out, "Come in."
Mariam stepped inside with her usual gentle poise. "Madam, shall I bring dinner to your room?" she asked politely.
Anna hesitated, then blurted the question that had been nagging her all evening.
"What about Daniel? Did he say anything about... having dinner with me?"
It came out more tentative than she intended. Daniel’s unpredictability these days had her second-guessing everything—especially after the chaos of the table read.
Mariam tilted her head in thought, then shook it. "No, madam. In fact, the master asked me to inform you he will be returning home late tonight."
Anna froze for half a heartbeat, the knot in her chest loosening at once.
See? You were scared for nothing, her subconscious teased.
She pressed her lips together, ignoring the taunt. "All right. Please bring my dinner here then," she said, her tone steadier now.
Mariam inclined her head and slipped out.
Anna remained standing for a long moment, the silence humming around her. Not a single call. Not even a message from Daniel since the table read. She’d half-expected him to storm in and scold her—or at least demand an explanation.
Instead, nothing.
Finally she exhaled and gave a small, defiant shake of her head. "Bring it on, Daniel," she muttered under her breath. "I’m ready whenever you are."
A few minutes later, Mariam returned with a tray and set it neatly on the table.
But her eyes drifted to the far corner, where Anna’s discarded hoodie and top lay in a careless heap. Her brow furrowed. "Madam... what happened to your clothes?"
Anna followed her gaze and shrugged, almost too casually. "Some people threw eggs and tomatoes at me today. It’s nothing. Just wash them—or toss them if the stains don’t come out."
"..."
Mariam blinked, momentarily at a loss. Anna’s offhand remark sounded as though it were an everyday inconvenience—like being caught in the rain, not pelted by groceries.
Concern flickered across the older woman’s face, but she knew better than to pry when her madam’s tone carried that quiet finality.
Silently, she gathered the soiled clothes, still faintly smelling of yolk and crushed tomato, and left the room, though worry lingered in her eyes as she closed the door behind her.
Anna finished the last bite of her dinner in silence, the clink of cutlery against porcelain the only sound in the room.
She cleared the tray, set it aside, and slid beneath the covers, willing her body to relax. But the moment her head touched the pillow, her eyes strayed to the clock on the wall.
Tick.
Tock.
Each second seemed louder than the last, an insistent reminder that the night was slipping by—and that Daniel could walk through the door at any moment.
She rolled onto her side, then onto her back. The sheets felt too warm, the room too quiet.
’Why am I even waiting?’ she scolded herself, dragging the duvet higher. I don’t care when he comes home.
Yet her gaze kept darting back to the clock, as if her heart hadn’t gotten the memo.
Tick.
Tock.
Anna exhaled sharply and pressed the pillow over her ears, but it did nothing to muffle the sound—or to slow the restless thoughts circling her mind about Daniel’s inevitable arrival.
But soon drowsiness crept in, blurring the restless thoughts. Within minutes she drifted into a deep, untroubled slumber, her earlier worries melting away like mist.