Chapter 1050: 488_2 Chapter 1050: 488_2 Fans were simultaneously dispelling rumors and sparring with critics online.
Her detractors were many, opportunists from every corner were now rearing their heads, starting to spread defamatory press statents.
“Vivian, what’s going on?
I just went out for an ad negotiation, how did you manage to lose the Spring Festival Gala?” Manager Lynette questioned sternly.
“Did you offend soone?
I’ll go plead with Director Bartholow, take her out for dinner, you apologize to her, then I’ll speak with the top officials from the TV station, we should be able to smooth things over.” She started making a phone call.
Vivian Hayes stopped her, “Lynette, don’t bother.
...
That Ellington Bartholow is renowned for not negotiating, well then, I won’t be polite either.”
Lynette frowned deeply, “You’ve really offended Director Bartholow?
Why would you do sothing so foolish?
She’s not your run-of-the-mill director, offend her, and you can forget about appearing on any HQ Broadcasting programs, you would essentially be blacklisted.”
Vivian Hayes scoffed, “It’s yet to be decided just who’ll be blacklisting who.”
Lynette squinted, “What about your wealthy boyfriend?
It’s about ti he made himself useful.”
Vivian Hayes elegantly sipped her coffee, “When I first started in the industry, I was an extra and played the roles of maids, getting trampled over by those popular actresses.
I envied them so much, thinking that one day, I would beco the most popular actress in Jinez, my billboards covering every shopping mall.
My determination wasn’t misplaced.
With Kelly Martinez’s scandal and Edbert Davies’ death, the two obstacles in my way finally collapsed, and my chance has arrived.”
Lynette glanced at her, there was a not insignificant number of her manipulations in the disparaging press releases for those two.
In this industry, it wasn’t novel for people to eat bread soaked in others’ blood.
“I’ve clawed my way up to this status, I won’t let anyone destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
—
“Ms.
Rinto, your control over the stage is breathtaking.
It reminds of soone.”
In a rehearsal break, Ellington Bartholow walked over to Aubree Groove with a bottle of water, handing it to her.
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Aubree accepted it but didn’t open it, “Thank you.”
Ellington Bartholow raised an eyebrow, typically, in this situation, the person would not be able to resist the curiosity and ask, “Who?”
But the Young Lady in front of her didn’t seem curious, with no intention of pursuing the topic, which left Bartholow sowhat speechless.
“Ms.
Rinto, aren’t you curious as to who this person is?”
Aubree shook her head, “It’s irrelevant to .”
Ellington Bartholow admired, “Ms.
Rinto’s equanimity is indeed a rarity.”
At this mont, the sound of a child wailing echoed from backstage, shrill and grating, Ellington Bartholow’s brows knitting together at once.
“What happened?”
An assistant hurried forward to investigate.
“Your child, stealing at such a young age, what will he grow up to beco?
Apologize to my son!” A woman’s harsh voice rose above the chaotic noise of the crowd backstage.
“I didn’t steal anything.” The little boy’s voice was defiant.
Aubree suddenly stood up and walked directly towards the backstage; Ellington Bartholow imdiately followed.
Backstage, the waiting dance perforrs and singers were crowded around watching the excitent, so secretly filming on their phones.
In the circle defined by the crowd, a woman of around thirty was glaring down at a young boy.
On either side of her was a little boy who was crying ferociously, likely the son she was referring to.
“Jai.” Aubree Grove spoke softly.
With a single utterance, she instantly attracted the attention of everyone present.
Jordan Robinson clenched his teeth to stop the tears from falling.
“Sister.” The mont he saw Aubree, he could no longer resist, and his tears began to roll down his face.
“I didn’t steal his toy.
I didn’t.”
“Hey, you, this child really is unreasonable.
I’ve noticed you have been eyeing my son’s backpack for a while.
Conveniently, my son and I left for the restroom and when we returned his toy was gone!
If it wasn’t you who took it, who did?” The woman accused aggressively.
The little boy by her side pointed at Jordan and cried out, “Return my Transforr, give it back.”
Compared to the mother and son, Jordan looked so small and frail, like a weed growing from a crack in the pavent—lanky, but imbued with a spirit of defiance.
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