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The briefcase popped open, revealing stacks of neatly bundled cash. Claire gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief.

She reached out and touched the money, half expecting it to vanish like a mirage. But it was all real. There had to be about hundred thousand dollars in cash in there.

“Just for a meeting?” She thought to herself, still in shock.

Tears of relief filled her eyes as she realized her immediate financial problems were solved. She quickly counted out enough bills to pay Mr. Jacobs , still expecting to wake up from a dream or something.

Then she put the rest back into the briefcase. As she closed the lid, her phone buzzed on the bedside table, confirming the present reality. It was a text from the director, Craig.

It simply read, “Last day of shooting. You’re late.”

“Shit,” Claire muttered under her breath, her heart racing still, following the newfound sense of relief.

She quickly got dressed, grabbed her bag, and tucked the briefcase back into the closet. Conflicted thoughts clouded Claire’s mind on the cab ride to the set. Claire couldn't shake the feeling of indebtedness and pressure to accept Luke's proposal.

"That's probably what he wanted, sneaky bastard," she thought, with a hint of admiration mingled with suspicion.

Would she be able to handle the complexities of this new arrangement? Could she trust Luke? The money in the bag was a concrete reminder of the stakes involved, making the offer both appealing and terrifying.

Arriving at the set, Claire pushed aside all her thoughts and worries and focused on the shooting at hand. She gave her all and produced an outstanding performance, impressing everyone present on set.

After the final scene was wrapped and the show's filming concluded, Claire sought out Craig, her director. With the day's work behind them, she found him reviewing notes in his chair.

"Craig, a minute?" she asked softly as she stepped into his office.

"Sure sure, have a seat please," Craig replied, gesturing at the chair opposite him, a concerned look on his face.

After Claire had sat down, she took a deep breath and began “So, about yesterday-“

“Yes Claire, I’m so sorry for putting you in such a position. It could’ve been really dangerous for you,” Craig immediately cut her off, as if he had been rehearsing for the conversation.

“No no it’s fine,” Claire quickly clarified. “Just that,” now leaning forward and in a serious tone, she recounted the strange events of the previous night—the meeting with Luke, the briefcase full of cash, and the proposition that came with it.

“I’m a bit nervous about the whole thing. It just… it just feels ominous, you know?”

Craig listened intently, then leaned back in his chair. "Claire, in this industry, you just have to follow your gut. If something feels off, it probably is. But if it feels like an opportunity, then maybe it's worth taking a chance."

His words lingered in her mind as she found Anton after their conversation. She pulled him aside and explained everything in detail, hoping for his perspective.

Anton frowned, clearly concerned. "Claire, this sounds sketchy. A briefcase full of cash? A mysterious proposal? I mean, you’re an amazing actress, but from the way you describe this guy, he could’ve gotten Jennifer Lawrence if he wanted. It just screams trouble to me. I'd be really careful if I were you."

“I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t want someone very famous that could easily get recognized,” Claire said in desperate defense.

Anton turned to Claire and pulled her in for a warm hug, immediately soothing her. She felt a weird sensation go through her body. She cleared her throat as he let go.

Holding her by her shoulders, he said sincerely, “I believe whatever the situation may be, you’re gonna go great. Just make sure you stay alert always. And also, Arabian?? Girl you’re in for some trouble!” And with that, they both burst into laughter.

Claire cherished how Anton always managed to make her laugh, even when she was troubled.

“Come on, why don’t you come back home with me?” Claire said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “You could help me pack and also figure out exactly how I’m gonna go about this. I need to be Arabian in two weeks!”

“Sure, as you wish Amira!” Anton replied with a bow and they both burst into laughter again.

Back at Claire’s apartment, they both chatted as they reminisced about past movies and the memories attached to them. And soon, it grew silent.

It was evening and it was getting dark. The small space seemed to amplify every movement, every breath.

Claire began packing her essentials, her mind racing with thoughts of the unknown future. Anton stood by, watching her, his eyes filled with concern and something else— something that added a layer of tension to the room.

As she moved around, Claire brushed past Anton, her skin tingling at the contact. The air between them grew heavier, laden with the unresolved feelings they had always kept unspoken. Claire's heart pounded as she handed Anton the briefcase.

“I need you to help me take the money to my family. My dad would really need it for his treatment.”

“Sure thing, I got you,” Anton replied as he grabbed the briefcase.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said softly, her eyes locking with his. The intensity in his gaze made her shiver within.

"Claire, you know I'd do anything for you," Anton replied, his voice low and earnest. He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking, the air crackling with electricity.

She stood fixed, looking up at him, their faces inches apart. The room seemed to hold its breath.

"Claire," Anton whispered, his voice husky, "are you sure about this? About everything?"

She could see the worry in his eyes, but also a deeper longing. "I am," she replied, her voice barely audible. "I have never been more sure about anything."