Chapter 208 The Game of Power
Chapter 208 The Game of Power
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“I know that,” Sophia’s voice turned sharper, “but you need to gauge the limits. Don’t mistake indulgence for permission to overstep–you don’t have that kind of leverage. Sophia said.
A shadow crossed Jasper’s face, though his tone remained light. “Relax, Sophia. I’m quite content with my current position. I appreciate everything Mr. Hudson has done for me.
“Good. Stay away from trouble. If something happens, no one can protect you.” The veteran agent couldn’t resist a final warning
“In all my years in this industry, I’ve never seen a businessman take a loss willingly, let alone risk offending someone important for a fleeting interest. To them, only profits and money are reliable–emotions are fleeting,”
Understood. Thanks for the advice.”
The call ended. Jasper stared at his phone, his smirk widening until it erupted into bitter laughter. Just as abruptly, he cut off.
What ‘trouble?” he muttered. “If it’s mutual, who’s to call it trouble?”
Freya is different–not like the others I’d entangled with out of spite or boredom. This rare spark of genuine interest wouldn’t be wasted. If she showed even a hint of reciprocation, I’d pursue it relentlessly. As for consequences? Let them try to stop me.
Freya had risen early hoping to mingle, but with two hours until the 10 AM ceremony, she decided to explore the studio lot alone.
The sprawling complex housed various themed sets. Unsure which area her production had booked, she wandered past closed filming zones and open tourist sections. Though impressive at first glance, the sets were barebones–props and dressing would come later from the crew.
A handful of tourists already dotted the paths, snapping photos with far more enthusiasm than she could muster. Four years of touring ancient towns during college had dulled the novelty of replica architecture.
After a brief stroll, Freya returned for the opening ceremony. The team had mostly assembled, exchanging polite greetings. Her seat at the head table last night and non–competitive role as assistant screenwriter earned her warm nods–a pleasant contrast to cutthroat actor dynamics.
The event passed in a blur of speeches and photo ops. Lunch was standard catering fare. Then the real work began.
Freya’s duties were straightforward, shadow Daniel, anticipate his needs, and assist where his attention lapsed. Low–pressure compared to the chaos of set construction unfolding around them.
As Daniel and Zane refined tomorrow’s shooting script in a side room, Freya absorbed every word. Many techniques she’d only vaguely understood crystallized under their expertise. The learning curve was steep but exhilarating.
Zane’s mastery of narrative pacing shone as he adjusted scenes and relayed updates to the costume and props teams. Lead. actors rehearsed separately while the supporting crew scrambled outside–a controlled bedlam Freya avoided.
When discussions wrapped, Zane hurried to inspect set progress. Daniel turned to Freya unexpectedly.
“I never asked, any thoughts on my adaptations? Don’t worry about offending me. As the original author, your input matters. If any changes feel off, say so.”
Freya shook her head. “Your version improves on mine tremendously. Some parts I’d struggled with make perfect sense now, especially after studying the regulations. Honestly, I’m learning more from your script than contributing
