Anna left the house the mont Daniel’s car disappeared down the driveway. Only when it was safely out of sight did she release a shaky breath and hail a cab.
Her destination—Mr. Wilsmith’s office.
The thought alone made her heart pound. She was looking forward to the eting, yes, but nerves gnawed at her insides. For soone as reputed and seasoned as Wilsmith to notice her—an absolute nobody—it felt unreal.
Why ?
Her past taunted her with answers she didn’t want. She rembered the quiet corners of her school days, how she had been terrible at socializing, how she barely had friends to confide in. Then, like a cruel whisper, the mory of being ridiculed for her weight slipped in. The laughter. The mockery. The pity.
Anna’s jaw tightened, her expression hardening. Not this ti.
Shoving the heaviness aside, she lifted her chin and stared out the cab window until the tall glass building finally ca into view.
When the car stopped, she paid the fare and stepped onto the pavent, staring up at the sleek tower that mirrored the morning sky. It was imposing, intimidating, and yet... it was also opportunity.
Inside, the polished lobby slled faintly of coffee and fresh lilies. An assistant approached her, clipboard in hand, and guided her toward the elevator with a polite efficiency.
"Mr. Wilsmith is already waiting for you," the woman said as they reached a pair of heavy oak doors.
Anna nodded, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier.
She stood outside for a mont, palms clammy, throat dry. This wasn’t just another audition or chance—it was the chance.
Wilsmith wasn’t simply a director. He was a visionary. A man who could take a naless face from the street and sculpt it into a star. His films weren’t just blockbusters—they touched lives, stirred hearts, and beca legacies.
And now... he wants to see .
Her heart raced at the thought. But as she reached for the handle, a faint voice drifted from within the office.
Anna froze.
The tone was low, commanding, familiar—far too familiar. A mory long buried flickered to life. A boy standing in front of her, shielding her from jeers and cruel laughter. A boy who had grown into a man the whole world admired.
No... it can’t be.
Shoving her doubts aside, she pushed the door open.
"Ha, Miss Anna, you are finally here." Wilsmith’s genial voice pulled her forward, but her eyes didn’t go to him.
They locked on the man seated across from him.
Ethan.
The na struck her like lightning. The man she thought she had forgotten, the face she thought she would only ever see on screens, accepting awards as one of the greatest actors of their ti. And yet... here he was.
Her chest tightened. The boy who once saved her from bullies had turned into a man whose presence was heavier than steel.
Ethan’s eyes lifted, sharp and assessing. For one endless second, his gaze pinned her in place. Anna’s heart stumbled, her palms slick with sweat. Did he recognize ?
But then, without a flicker of emotion, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.
"Mr. Wilsmith, I’ll take my leave. I’ll consider what you’ve told ," he said coolly, his voice steady, unreadable.
Anna’s breath hitched. She didn’t move. She just watched, transfixed, as he strode toward the door.
And then he stopped. Right in front of her.
Anna blinked, her heart thundering, expecting—hoping—he would say sothing, acknowledge her, rember her.
Instead, his voice cut through the silence.
"Move."
The word was blunt, dismissive.
Her thoughts burst like a balloon. Heat flushed her cheeks as she realized she was blocking the doorway. Flustered, she shuffled aside, lowering her gaze.
Ethan didn’t glance at her again. He simply walked past, his aura heavy, brooding, untouchable.
Still the sa, Anna thought bitterly, watching his retreating back. Always aloof. Always out of reach.
But this ti... her chest twisted. Because once, just once, he hadn’t been aloof at all.
Once, he had been her savior.
Anna shook her thoughts away and forced her feet forward. She couldn’t afford to dwell on Ethan—not now. Not when she had sothing more pressing at hand.
Clearing her head, she walked to the desk and took the seat across from the man she had co to et.
Wilsmith leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning her from head to toe. His expression remained calm, but the slight narrowing of his gaze told her he was already evaluating her beyond her appearance.
"So, Miss Anna," Wilsmith began, his voice carrying the smooth authority of soone used to commanding rooms full of talent. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"
Anna swallowed. She had prepared to ask him why he had even considered her for a role, but the weight of his stare made her pause. She wasn’t sure whether he saw her as an opportunity... or a burden.
To the world, Anna looked ordinary. No striking glamour, no powerful na in the industry—just a woman with cautious eyes and lips pressed tightly together. But what Anna didn’t know was that her presence in this office wasn’t a re coincidence.
Wilsmith had worked with countless actors, plucking unknowns from obscurity and polishing them into stars. But this one... Anna... she wasn’t here because of raw luck or hidden brilliance.
She was here because of recomndation.
And not just any recomndation.
She had been sent to him in exchange for funding.
Wilsmith clasped his hands over his desk, his thoughts circling. His latest project was ambitious, risky even. He needed a sponsor—soone powerful, soone who could bankroll an entire production without flinching. When his mind had settled on Daniel Clafford, he wasted no ti approaching him.
Daniel hadn’t agreed imdiately. He’d kept Wilsmith waiting—days of silence, a man too busy ruling his empire to respond quickly. Then, finally, he had accepted.
But with a condition.
A request that had puzzled Wilsmith.
A recomndation.
Daniel Clafford, the man whose na alone could buy entire industries, wanted this girl to be given a chance.
At first, Wilsmith hadn’t understood. Why would soone like Clafford waste his influence on an unknown face? She wasn’t trained. She wasn’t established. There was nothing about her that scread star material—at least, not at first glance.
But Wilsmith had learned long ago not to question too deeply when n like Clafford made demands. Power like that didn’t move without reason.
So he had agreed.
Now, as Anna sat across from him, nervously gripping her hands together, Wilsmith allowed himself a faint, unreadable smile.
Anna hesitated for a few seconds, her fingers nervously curling against her lap before she finally spoke—her voice steady, but edged with caution.
"Mr. Wilsmith... I know I shouldn’t be doubting your insight." She drew in a breath, her shoulders squaring as if shedding the last of her nerves. "But I think by now you’ve understood why I wanted to et you."
Her gaze lifted, firm and unwavering. "So I won’t beat around the bush. Why ? What did you see in to offer a role—when I hardly even acted in my previous one?"
Her bluntness caught him off guard for a fraction of a second. Then, slowly, the corner of Wilsmith’s mouth curved into a smile.
’She’s not naïve. Good,’ he thought, eyes glinting with amusent. Too many in her place would have grovelled or accepted blindly. She, however, had the nerve to question him. That in itself was telling.
"Well, Miss Anna," he began, his voice smooth and deliberate, the cadence of a man who weighed every word. "You’re right—I’m not in the habit of handing out roles like candy. But I don’t asure talent by lines delivered or screen ti."
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, his tone sharpening like a blade. "Experience can be built. Training can be bought. But presence..." His gaze locked on her with startling intensity. "...presence cannot be faked. Either you have it, or you don’t."
Anna’s throat tightened as she swallowed. His words pressed heavy, stirring a strange unease in her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was a genuine complint... or the kind of polished speech n in power delivered to dress up their motives.
"But," Wilsmith continued, leaning back in his chair with a asured grace, "if you think I’m being reckless, then let’s keep it simple." He steepled his fingers beneath his chin, studying her like a hawk sizing up its prey.
"One chance. That’s all I’ll give you. Take it—and convince you belong." His voice dropped lower, deliberate, carrying an unspoken weight. "Or walk away now, and let this opportunity slip into soone else’s hands."
Anna’s breath caught. The firmness in his tone left no room for misunderstanding. This wasn’t a gift. It wasn’t generosity.
It was a test. A challenge. And challenges had consequences.
"Tomorrow," Wilsmith said, his tone steady, deliberate, "join for the auditions—and prove wrong."
The words landed like a gauntlet thrown, leaving Anna montarily speechless.
Her chest tightened. She had wanted answers, not a challenge, but deep down... wasn’t this what she truly needed? A chance not to be chosen out of pity or convenience—but because she earned it.
Anna’s hands curled into fists on her lap, her hesitation burning away as resolve sparked in her eyes. She lifted her chin, eting his gaze head-on.
"Deal," she said firmly, her voice unwavering.
For a second, Wilsmith studied her, the faintest glimr of intrigue flickering in his eyes. Most people stamred before him, their confidence cracking under the weight of expectation. But this girl... she was reckless enough to walk straight into the fire.
Anna, however, wasn’t thinking about him anymore. This wasn’t about Wilsmith doubting her—it was about her.
Because until now, she had never convinced herself she could be an actress. Not in her past life. Not in her present one.
But tomorrow... tomorrow, she would prove it.
And she wouldn’t just prove it to him. She would prove it to herself.
Reviews
All reviews (0)