"That label isn’t exactly flattering in the public eye, is it?" I said quietly. "People love to mock anyone who climbs their way up using their parents’ or spouse’s money."
"They do," Marissa agreed calmly. "But think about it ... how hard would it be to climb a ladder covered in thorns without wearing proper shoes? The public might use that label as an insult, but in reality, that sa status will shield you in this industry."
"This industry is a jungle, Helcia," Marissa said seriously. "If you walk into it barehanded, the predators will devour you whole. That’s why people need to know you’re sobody, or at least soone dangerous to touch without consequence."
The public might see Lando as nothing more than the Brixtons’ illegitimate son, a cripple who held no value in his family. Yet, no matter what they thought, he still carried the Brixton na, and Victor Brixton would likely put on a show, pretending to defend his son just to polish his image in front of the world.
So yes ... being the wife of the Brixtons’ illegitimate son was still better than having no one at all to stand behind .
Marissa went on, "And honestly, there’s nothing wrong with having privilege. As long as you have real talent, no one has the right to look down on you."
Every word Marissa spoke turned out to be completely true. Back when I was Helena Moore, I didn’t have the right shoes to climb the thorny ladder, nor did I have any weapons in my hands to fight off the predators in the jungle.
I was all alone and completely bare, so when I finally started climbing the ladder and catching a bit of the spotlight, the predators around began to feel threatened.
They feared I might steal their shine one day, so they resorted to the unthinkable. So tried to sabotage in secret, while others didn’t even bother hiding their bullying.
Most self-made celebrities would bow their heads and endure it, but I wasn’t built that way, I always bit back.
When a nepo baby suddenly snatched the role that was supposed to be mine, I ran straight to my social dia and dropped a few sharp lines to let the world know I’d been robbed.
I never said it out loud, never once admitted that the role had been stolen from , but the public always knew.
For a while, I thought they’d stand by my side forever. I was the self-made celebrity, the one who wasn’t afraid to bite back, the one who always replied to their jokes on social dia.
But the mont those fake scandals surfaced, everything changed. The people who once cheered for , who defended , who swore I was different were suddenly pointing their fingers at .
In an instant, I went from the rising star they loved to the villain they wanted to see burn.
The fall was brutal. Endorsents disappeared overnight, directors stopped picking up my calls, and the scripts that once had my na written all over them were suddenly given to soone else.
It was a nightmare, sothing that still left deep scars on my heart.
"I think you’re right, Marissa." I gave her a faint smile and spoke quietly. "There’s nothing wrong with having privilege."
Earlier, I had only seen the bad side of it. It was because I used to be the outsider, the one who felt jealous since I didn’t have any privilege tied to my na. But now that I’d beco the kind of person I used to envy, I realized I needed to change my perspective.
"Here’s my number, Helcia." Marissa handed her business card after we talked a little about my future career, not too much detail, since she probably thought I was only just beginning to step onto this kind of path.
She reminded , "You can contact during working hours, and outside of that only if it’s sothing urgent. Other than that, please respect my work ti."
Once there was nothing left to discuss and we agreed to et tomorrow at nine a.m. at Rosélle Beauty’s office, Marissa finally rose to leave.
"Please tell Mr. Brixton it was nice to see him again, and do apologize on my behalf for not being able to stay longer," she said politely.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I forced a smile. "Of course, Marissa. Thank you for coming."
’Nice to see him again?’ My eyes narrowed slightly as I watched her step out of the mansion.
Had they not seen each other for a while because of work? Or worse, was Lando just using as an excuse to et her more easily?
God, I was doing it again!
Why was I always thinking like so bitter, jealous wife?
[Why don’t you just ask him directly, Host?] Penny’s voice chid in suddenly. [It’s better to talk it out than to torture yourself wondering.]
I let out a sigh. "But what if he thinks I’m making a fuss over sothing so small?"
[You haven’t even tried yet...]
I tapped my foot against the floor, biting my lip. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Penny was right. I hated misunderstandings, especially with soone I had to see every single day at ho.
Fine. I’d just ask him. Whether he and Marissa were close friends or sothing more, and I promised myself, I would not sound like a bitter wife!
With that thought, I made my way to his office. I knocked a few tis until his voice finally ca from inside, telling to enter.
I slowly pushed the door open, peeking through the small gap as I asked hesitantly, "Husband ... can we talk? But if you’re busy, we can do it la—"
"You can co in," he cut off firmly before I could finish.
Eagerly, I stepped inside, only to find Lingo sprawled on his back across the desk, right next to the mouse.
Before I could even say anything about the kitten, Lando cleared his throat and muttered, "I was about to move him out before you ca in."
I slipped into the chair across from his desk, smiling a little. "I can take him with later."
He looked away, almost too quickly, before answering, "That’s fine. I can take him out myself."
I blinked, watching him carefully and realized that Lando wasn’t annoyed at all. In fact ... he was starting to like the kitten!
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