Elena stood there silently, listening to everything.
She didn't say a word.
But inside her mind, a question echoed again and again.
Who are those people…
The ones who scare Mom and Grandma this much?
She could feel it—whatever this secret was, it wasn't hidden out of fear alone.
It was buried under pain.
Deep pain.
So Elena chose silence.
She knew that some truths are not meant to be forced out.
They come out only when the heart is ready to carry them.
When Mom and Grandma feel it's right, she thought,
they will tell me themselves.
Some things should never be pushed.
They should be left to fate.
.....
The next few days passed softly.
Elena spent them with her family—slow breakfasts, quiet evenings, shared smiles that felt a little longer than usual. She helped her mother in small chores, listened to her grandmother's old stories, and laughed like everything was normal.
And yet… nothing was.
Between packing her bags and checking her schedule, Elena prepared for Capital.
New city. New role. New beginning.
Every time her departure came up in conversation, the elders' expressions shifted—just for a second.
A flicker of something unreadable.
Fear.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Carefully hidden behind practiced smiles and casual nods.
They spoke of weather, work, and travel arrangements—but their eyes betrayed them.
As if Capital wasn't just a city…
As if it carried memories they didn't want to wake up.
Elena noticed.
She always did.
But she didn't ask.
Because she knew—whatever haunted them wasn't meant for her yet.
So she focused on what she could control.
Her script.
Her lines.
Her strength.
At night, while the house slept, she stood by the window with her packed suitcase nearby and whispered to herself,
"Whatever waits for me in Capital… I won't' run". She will live her life freely, in peace, with the people she loves.
And if anyone dares to ruin it—
she won't take their life.
She'll take away their will to live.
Behind closed doors, the elders watched her quietly.
Proud.
Worried.
And afraid of something none of them were ready to name.
Emma arrived at Elena's house to take her to the airport.
Lucas had already left for his shoot, so Emma and Elena were traveling to the capital together.
Elena said her goodbyes to everyone.
They reminded her to take care of herself—and to call every day.
With one last look back, Elena got into the car.
And just like that, she left.
....
Elena walked out of the capital's airport with Emma, carrying her luggage.
A company taxi was waiting for them.
They headed straight to the head office of Starlight Entertainment.
After finishing a few formalities, Emma took Elena to the hotel so she could rest.
As Emma and Elena passed through Starlight Entertainment, Aaron—the CEO—caught a glimpse of them.
His eyes stopped on Elena, surprise flashing across his face.
Before he could say anything, they were already gone.
He smiled to himself.
It's fine, he thought. She'll be coming to this office often. I'll get Elena's WeChat ID sooner or later.
...
The next day, Elena arrived on set for the shoot.
Director Adrian Blackwood and writer Kavin Fonser were already there. Elena greeted them with a polite nod, and they nodded back, calling her over.
Adrian then introduced her to the film's lead actors.
The hero was Caleb Hart—tall, strikingly handsome, with sharp features and a strong screen presence. A top star of the industry, he had an enormous fan following, yet remained calm, respectful, and professional on set.
But the heroine—Rachel Blake—froze the moment her eyes landed on Elena.
For a second, her smile stiffened.
Elena's sharp features, calm confidence, and effortless beauty made something twist inside Rachel's chest.
Jealousy flashed across her eyes before she masked it with a fake smile.
So this is her, Rachel thought.
The girl everyone's already looking at.
She greeted Elena sweetly—but the bitterness beneath her tone was impossible to miss.
Elena noticed it.
She just didn't care. Director Adrian Blackwood announced that the shoot would begin.
Caleb Hart's scene was scheduled first.
As the crew prepared the set, Caleb moved toward his mark, calm and focused.
Meanwhile, Elena headed to the makeup room.
She changed into her costume, her expression composed, her mind steady as she prepared herself for the role.
Outside, the cameras rolled.
Inside, Elena was getting ready for her moment. After getting ready in her room, Elena was checking her costume when Rachel walked in and sat beside her. She tilted her head slightly, her smile polite—but her eyes betrayed a flash of jealousy she quickly masked.
"So this is your first time working in a film," she said lightly.
"You've always done small roles before. I heard it from the director—and from your agent, Emma Collins." A brief flicker of jealousy crossed her gaze, quickly hidden.
Everyone on set knew one thing.
Emma was a famous agent.
Top actors and actresses had chased her for years—but she had never said yes.
Never.
And now, suddenly, she had taken on Elena—
a girl known only for small roles.
That was what unsettled them.
Why her?
What did Emma see that others didn't?
Jealousy crept in quietly.
Not loud. Not obvious.
But sharp enough to sting. "I don't really know," she continued, voice smooth, "what methods you used to get this role."
As if realizing she'd crossed a line, she paused—then smiled again, soft and composed.
"But still," she added casually, "if you face any difficulty or don't understand a scene, you can always ask me. Around them, a few conversations slowed.
Eyes shifted. Whispers didn't start—but doubt did.
Someone like her, in a role this big?
There must be something more to it.
Low. Careful. Curious.
"Isn't this her first film?" someone whispered.
"I heard she only did minor roles before."
Another voice followed, quieter but sharper.
"Then how did she land this part?"
"She's pretty," someone said with a small laugh.
"In this industry, that's sometimes enough."
A few glances were thrown Elena's way—quick, measuring, suspicious.
No one said her name out loud, but everyone knew who they were talking about.
Elena doesn't say a word.
She just looks at Rachel — the way someone watches a bad joke being told for too long. No anger. No reaction. Just quiet, almost bored amusement in her eyes.
Rachel keeps talking.
Mocking. Provoking. Enjoying the sound of her own voice.
Then she stops.
Only then does Elena speak.
"Finished?" she asks calmly.
"That was all the drama you had?"
The room goes silent.
Elena stands up. Not in a rush. Completely composed.
She reaches for the glass of water in front of her, takes two slow steps forward, and pours the entire glass over Rachel's head.
Water runs through Rachel's hair, down her face, soaking her clothes.
Rachel freezes, stunned.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Elena tilts her head slightly, her voice still even.
"I was just helping you," she says.
"Cleaning the filth that was clearly stuck in your head."
She pauses, then adds casually,
"By the way… you seem to know a lot about how roles are 'earned.'"
Her eyes sharpen.
"Tell me something — you didn't get yours the same way, did you?"
"Sleeping with investors to compensate for what talent couldn't?"
A sharp intake of breath spreads through the room.
Elena turns back, walks to her seat, and sits down as if nothing happened.
"Oh, and one more thing," she says, crossing her legs.
"That kind of shortcut is usually needed by people with an average face."
Her gaze flicks over Rachel — clinical, dismissive.
"Not ugly," she continues coolly.
"Just forgettable. The kind of face that blends into a crowd unless it's desperately trying to be noticed."
Rachel's eyes fill with anger, hatred, and burning embarrassment.
Her face tightens, fists clench, and her wet hair sticks to her skin.
She's furious — not just because of the insult,
but because everyone saw it.
She stands up and walks away without looking back.
Elena watches Rachel walk away and lets out a low, sarcastic laugh.
The onlookers quietly disperse, suddenly uncomfortable.
They've understood one thing clearly now — Elena is not easy prey.
...
Elena stands ready, listening carefully as the director explains the scene.
"This is Iris's first meeting with Lucifer," he says quietly.
Elena nods once.
"Action."
Her eyes change instantly.
Elena is gone.
Iris remains.
Lucifer turns toward her with a soft smile.
"You came," he says warmly.
"I was worried."
Iris watches him without emotion.
"Worry doesn't suit strangers."
Lucifer chuckles lightly, unfazed.
"Then let me stop being one."
He takes a step closer — respectful distance, no threat.
"I know what they've done to you," he says gently.
"And I know you don't trust easily."
Iris's gaze sharpens.
"You know nothing about me."
Lucifer's voice stays calm, caring.
"Enough to know you shouldn't be alone."
A beat.
"People like you survive by building walls," he continues softly.
"I'm not here to break them. Just… to stand on your side."
Iris studies him — searching for cracks.
He gives her none.
"If this is pity," she says coldly,
"save it."
Lucifer smiles — kind, reassuring.
"It's not pity," he says.
"It's choice."
She turns away.
"Careful," Iris says quietly.
"False concern is easy to see through."
Lucifer watches her go, his expression still gentle.
Only when her back is turned
does his smile fade — just slightly.
Enough to reveal the truth.
Cut.
A heavy silence falls over the set.
The director nods slowly.
This is the performance they were waiting for.
"Good, Elena."
The director doesn't wait.
He turns back to the crew, already discussing the next setup.
Elena steps aside, her expression calm, unreadable.
Rachel watches from a distance.
And something ugly twists inside her chest.
Jealousy.
Pure. Burning. Unavoidable.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
She had come to see Elena fail.
To watch a small, insignificant actress crumble under pressure.
Someone who had never touched a real opportunity before —
someone who would get nervous, ruin the scene, and embarrass herself. She turns away, fury simmering beneath her skin, and walks off the set.