Chapter Four - Past

One Year Ago

Serena didn’t go back to her apartment.

Instead, she asked the driver to take her to the studio.

It was past ten by the time she slipped into the quiet sound booth of the post-production house tucked away in West Hollywood. The dubbing director gave her a small nod of acknowledgment, no questions asked. She was always like this—showing up late, makeup smudged, coat still on, eyes red but not from crying.

“I just have two lines left from episode eight,” she murmured as she adjusted the headphones. Her voice was steady, though her body moved on autopilot.

The director didn’t argue. He liked working with her. She never complained. Never caused trouble. Always professional, even when she looked like the world had rolled over her spine. He even told her he didn't understand where the rumours about her came from. Serena smiled tightly when he told her that first time and didn't say it again.

The scene played across the screen in front of her—her character, a determined small-town dancer, arguing with her disapproving coach. It was ironic, the way art imitated life. The performance had been good. Quiet and aching. Like something inside her cracked without shattering.

After the last take, Serena pulled off the headphones and sat there for a second longer.

“You okay?” the director asked carefully from the booth.

Serena nodded with a faint smile. “Just tired.”

He didn’t push it. Everyone in this industry was tired.

She walked out into the parking lot with a script tucked under her arm, the cold pressing through the sleeves of her coat. The city buzzed somewhere far off, but it didn’t feel like it belonged to her.

The truth was—Serena hadn’t expected to still be working on low-budget streaming dramas. She had once dreamed of big screens, big lights, big names. But the dream changed.

Or maybe she changed.

She had turned down the wrong people early in her career. And then again. And again. She didn’t regret it, not fully. But it had cost her. Rumors had spread. That she was difficult. That she wasn’t willing. That she wasn’t serious enough to play the game.

She took what roles she could. Indie dramas. Quiet roles. The kind no one really talked about on T*****r but stayed with people who stumbled on them at 2 a.m. on a weeknight.

And now, after all that work, all that quiet resistance—she was being handed this.

A project she didn’t ask for. A replacement offer for a woman who lived at the top of the industry. A project under Lucian Vale’s name.

And She hadn’t auditioned. She hadn’t asked. But the role were already hers. Both of the leading lady and Lucian Vale's fianceé.

The hallway outside the dubbing booth was quiet, lined with faded posters of past projects and the low hum of distant mixing. Serena pulled her headphones off, rubbing the ache from her neck as she stepped into the corridor. The session had gone long, her voice slightly raw, but it was done.

“Still chasing your indie dreams, Rivera?”

She stilled at the sound of that too-familiar voice.

Fallon Crowne leaned against the wall like she owned it, a latte in hand and faux sympathy curving her glossed mouth. She looked flawless, of course—Fallon always did. Even when she was being cruel.

Serena offered a polite nod, her heels tapping softly as she moved past. “Fallon.”

“That project you worked on previously—what was the name again?" Fallon drawled, following her with slow steps. “Ah, Doesn't matter. Heard it tanked. What's your next project nobody will hear of?"

Fallon’s eyes glittered, pleased at the hit.

Serena didn’t flinch. She was used to these games.

“You know,” Fallon continued, tone sweet, “I always admired how you stood your ground in this business. All those no’s to powerful men. That kind of bravery really makes headlines. Just… not the kind that books you lead roles.”

Serena’s breath caught, but she didn’t show it.

Behind them, a second pair of footsteps echoed—Dominic Keene, the AD from her shoot, paused mid-stride, eyeing Fallon with mild disgust.

“Fallon,” he said, “is there a reason you’re loitering outside other people’s sessions? Or are you just rehearsing your next scandal?”

Fallon arched a brow. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

Dominic snorted. “Funny. That would require friendship.”

Fallon’s gaze flicked to Serena. “Well, I should get going. Some of us have callbacks for projects people have heard of.”

She brushed past, her perfume trailing behind her like smoke.

Serena exhaled slowly.

Dominic tilted his head. “She’s the worst.”

“She’s… complicated,” Serena said softly.

“Complicated doesn’t justify cruelty.” He glanced at her. “You okay?”

She nodded. But her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Dominic hesitated before saying, “For what it’s worth? The directors I know would take your silence over Fallon’s noise any day.”

Serena chuckled. "I'll always admire Fallon for being in a better position in the industry than me. She isn't an insider like me. She made it on her own. Whatever she is."

Dominic looked at her. "You are too kind."

"Someone has to be."

Her gaze followed a poster on the far wall—an old project she once had a supporting role in, barely credited, but she remembered how hard she’d fought for it. How hard she’d worked. And how no one saw it.

“I’ll probably disappear for a while,” she said, voice lowered. “Family stuff.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Serena hesitated. “Just… obligations.”

“You ever need to disappear and not be found,” he said, “I know a good place. It has crappy Wi-Fi, terrible coffee, and one hell of a view.”

Serena smiled for real this time. “Thanks.”

He nodded once, the corner of his mouth curving. “Don’t let Fallon mess with your head. You’ve got more power than she’ll ever have—and she knows it.”

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again.

Dad: Be home in fifteen. Don’t make me send a car.

Serena closed her eyes for a beat.

“I should go,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Dominic said, pushing off the wall. “But hey… if this family thing turns into a scandal, I better get the inside scoop.”

She laughed as she walked away, her heart heavy but oddly lightened by his words.

Tomorrow, the mask would come back on.

But tonight, she could laugh for a minute.

And that was enough.