CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21: NOT RIGHT FOR YOU

"Hello?"

"Is this Sutton? Do you have someone named Maeve Lane under you? Sorry, but Sylvia has already found someone suitable for us, so no need for the audition today."

Maeve paused flipping through the book, and Sarah seemed entirely dumbfounded, still not reacting when Maeve pulled the phone from her hand.

"Hello."

The person on the other end hesitated for a second at Maeve’s sudden voice, then spoke with some uncertainty, "You’re Maeve Lane, right? Did you hear what I said? Don’t come to our crew anymore, we’ve already found someone."

Maeve frowned slightly, "When did you find someone?"

She didn’t question why the decision was finalized overnight, not even giving her a chance to audition.

Sarah stood nearby, having regained her senses, her chest heaving with anger, "Maeve, how can you still be so calm! It must be that Sylvia causing trouble again! I’m so pissed off!"

The person on the other end sounded like they had heard a humorous joke, arrogantly stating, "Why do you care when we found someone. I’d say, whether someone makes it or not is a matter of fate, and you, Maeve Lane, just don’t have the fortune that Sylvia Lane has. Accept reality!"

Maeve’s voice carried a hint of a sarcastic smile, "Really? I hope you stay that confident."

"Tch, stop pretending."

The call was cut off.

Sarah sat dejectedly in the van, "Now we lost this too. I do have some other scripts; maybe we should take a look at those first—"

"Wait a moment."

Maeve leaned back casually against the back seat of the car, toying with her curls, but even such a casual action exuded a bewitching charm.

"Wait for what?"

"Wait for me to get to the bottom of this."

A rare flicker of hurt crossed Maeve’s eyes as she clutched the phone and stepped out of the car.

Sarah considered stopping her but then thought better of it.

Anyone would be in a bad mood after encountering something like this.

Perhaps she should call the director; this role was truly a rare opportunity for Maeve.

Clearly, the director had been quite pleased when they met at Glyndower Center last time, but now, how did it all go sideways, without even a chance for an audition?

Maeve walked swiftly, the nine-centimeter heels making steady contact with the ground.

As the surrounding voices grew sparse, Maeve walked under a large tree and dialed Julian Fairchild.

...

"Julian, your phone is ringing."

The crew member handed the phone to Julian Fairchild.

Julian rested his hands on the sofa, feigning sleep, while a staff member touched up his makeup.

His cold eyes opened, and at the sight of the phone, a profound depth overtook his gaze.

The display read—

"Your Zoe"

His eyes momentarily lost focus.

It had been a long time since Maeve had called him.

The staff member felt a bit uneasy, watching this influential figure, whose mere word could shake the entertainment industry, stare blankly, "Julian?"

The exceedingly handsome man sat up from the sofa, taking the persistently ringing phone from the crew member’s hand.

His tone on the phone was warmer, "Hello."

"Was it you?"

In contrast, the woman’s voice on the line was even colder than Julian’s.

Julian frowned, realizing something, and his mood suddenly soured, "Yes."

"...Julian Fairchild, didn’t I tell you that I want this role?"

"This role isn’t suitable for you."

"Suitable? That’s right. You can’t force something that isn’t suitable, just like you and me—tied together but never happy."