A social media influencer who invested in the production to get a role was throwing her weight around on my set, demanding more scenes. I’d had enough and kicked her off the crew. She immediately turned to Twitter to stir up drama, accusing me of bullying young actors. She even claimed to be the famous Miss Hartley, threatening to have her family blacklist me. As I looked at my cowering stepfather, I couldn’t help but smile in confusion: Since when did the Hartley family have another daughter?Just before the new drama started production, I, as the new director, created a group chat. I sent a message hoping to get to know the actors better over dinner that evening. However, half a day passed after sending the message, and except for a few crew members, there was no response from the male and female leads. At this point, my assistant William secretly messaged me. “Miss Quill, Wendy Hartley – our social media influencer female lead – created a group chat in advance. She said she wants to treat everyone to dinner tonight, but… she didn’t include you.” Before I could process what William meant by “didn’t include you,” I saw Wendy Hartley appear in a group named “aaa New Drama Good Luck”. She first posted a shopping photo, with a million-dollar diamond bracelet on her left wrist that nearly blinded me. Then her coquettish voice came through my phone. “Hey everyone, I’m out having fun and don’t have time to greet you all properly. Tonight I’m treating everyone to dinner at the Waldorf Astoria. The director should come too, or we might get food poisoning at some BBQ joint, right?” After this voice message, she seemed to think it wasn’t enough and added a flirtatious laugh. The previously quiet group suddenly became lively, with the male lead and second male lead suddenly appearing. “Trust Miss Hartley to do it right! Director, Miss Hartley has spoken, how can we not give her face?” “That’s right, director. The Waldorf is a place we couldn’t get into even if we had the money. Let’s give Miss Hartley the honor of our presence.” Seeing the compliments, the female lead became even more smug. Her delicate voice seemed to pierce through the screen. “Director, won’t you join us?” I was speechless. Originally, to reduce complications, I had refused my family’s offer to invite veteran actors for my domestic debut. Instead, I had carefully selected some promising young actors with decent acting skills – except for this Wendy Hartley, who was forced upon me by my investor. I never expected these young actors to be such sycophants. It’s just the Waldorf Astoria. If they wanted to go, I could easily arrange it myself. I zoomed in on the photo Wendy Hartley posted. The shimmering bracelet on her wrist had a hint of pink on the inner circle, with a small, understated “alio” engraving on the edge, looking both low-key and luxurious. This bracelet was from the 10th-anniversary collection of my mother’s design brand. There were only about 20 of them in existence, and their owners were either extremely wealthy or influential. I wondered which rich family’s daughter this Wendy Hartley was, coming to experience life as an actress. My eyes drifted back to the group chat. The second female lead, Stella, was fawning over Wendy… “Miss Hartley, about that new reality show your family invested in, where celebrities visit each other’s homes, could my boyfriend and I possibly be on it?” I choked on my water, coughing for a while before looking back at those words. Hartley family? Miss Hartley? If I remembered correctly, there was only one Hartley family of note in the entire country, and that was my family. When exactly did I get a sister?
My family is a business dynasty, and my mother, Luna Reeves, is a particularly brilliant business genius. In just 15 years, she expanded the Reeves family from a top domestic enterprise to an internationally formidable conglomerate. My father, Mr. Quill – I can’t quite remember his first name – was my mother’s young love. Although their marriage was a business arrangement, they did have a period of genuine affection. Later, my father developed stomach cancer and passed away when I was four, leaving my mother with me and a six-year-old brother. My brother took our mother’s surname, Reeves, while I kept our father’s surname, Quill. My brother made his debut in the entertainment industry years ago, playing the piano with extraordinary skill and winning numerous international awards. He’s the rich heir adored by socialites in the industry, though his high-profile romance and early commitment broke many hearts. Compared to him, I’ve been relatively low-key, studying abroad for years to prepare for taking over the company. Filmmaking is just my personal hobby, and although I’ve submitted a few indie films to film festivals, they didn’t make much of a splash domestically. This led to a persistent rumor that my brother and I weren’t close and had barely even met. After we came of age, our mother found a new love interest. He was ten years younger than her and quite handsome. Although my brother and I didn’t particularly like him, and he often harbored inappropriate thoughts, we didn’t say anything as long as our mother was happy. This past year, my mother has been handling company business abroad, leaving only our stepfather, Henry Hartley, in the country. His influence has been growing, and some people in the company even call him “Mr. Hartley.” I’ve warned him a few times, but he hasn’t shown any restraint. I looked at Wendy Hartley’s age on her resume – hmm, she’s actually two years older than me. Unless there’s been some time travel involved, there’s no way she could be a child my stepfather and mother had in the past couple of years. I then thought about the investor who had pushed Wendy Hartley into the cast – a small-time entertainment company boss who’s been on the rise these past few years, showing signs of overshadowing Reeves Corp in the entertainment sector. Interestingly, he’s my stepfather’s nephew. Things suddenly became much more intriguing. Wendy Hartley was still bragging in the group chat, showing off various luxury skincare products, a small villa full of flowers, and a closet of haute couture dresses. I chuckled to myself, realizing that some of these items were mine, and others belonged to my sister-in-law. I wondered if my neat-freak sister-in-law would freak out seeing these photos. I screenshotted everything she posted in the group and sent it to my brother. Seeing the message status showing “typing” for a while, I didn’t pay much attention. We had a scene to shoot today, and I didn’t have much time to deal with these matters. This drama is an adaptation of the well-known IP “Rain Lotus Pavilion.” There’s been a rumor online that it was written by a famous author’s secret account, but actually, it was the first novel I ever wrote. I’m very particular about its adaptation, personally selecting several screenwriters. Every script they’ve handled has never scored below 8 points online. At this moment, however, one of the screenwriters approached me with a troubled expression. “Director Quill, I was thinking of changing the female lead’s background from an orphan of a martial arts family to a young lady from a family of equal status to the male lead… You know, these days, people are into stories about couples from similar backgrounds, right? Even though we’re working with a big IP, we still need to keep up with the trends, don’t we?” I casually flipped through the script the screenwriter handed me. My original female lead, Luo Qing, was a proud and determined woman who infiltrated the male lead’s family as a maid to avenge her clan’s blood feud. They had turned her into a pampered little wife, doted on by the male lead, second male lead, and third male lead. At the end of the script, to balance things out, they even paired off the second and third male leads with the female lead’s best friend and boss. I closed the script, vividly imagining scenes of the female lead pouting, glaring, and stomping her feet. My face turned green. “…Who told you to make these changes?” I asked. Seeing my anger, the screenwriter didn’t seem bothered. He put on an indifferent expression. “Director Quill, do you know who the investor for our drama is?” “It’s the Hartley family! Although you’ve won a few small awards internationally, the Hartley family isn’t someone a small-time director like you can afford to offend. If we make Miss Hartley unhappy this time, we might all end up out of work.” He arrogantly tossed the script in front of me. “Since Miss Hartley wanted the script changed, we have to follow her wishes!” I really didn’t expect that in the 21st century, there would still be this kind of new-age lackey. I couldn’t help but laugh out of anger. “Fine, fine, fine. So none of you want to do a good job, is that it?” “Then let’s replace everyone. All of you.”
Unexpectedly, after this incident, I ended up being exposed online. Wendy Hartley posted a video update. In the video, a pale-faced girl with a tearful expression questioned why I wouldn’t let her act, and she even took screenshots of yesterday’s chat out of context, implying that I was jealous of her status as a Hartley family member. The comments below were a spectacle. Several people even came forward claiming to be my college classmates, subtly insulting me as a child from a single-parent family with a twisted mentality. “She’s just jealous that Wendy Hartley has a happy and complete family, and she’s beautiful too.” “Shameless, Zara Quill is such a shameless bitch.” “I heard she was kept by someone, that’s how she got the director’s position. How else could a small-time director like her get the script for ‘Rain Lotus Pavilion’? It’s just a shame for the female lead I love, I hope she won’t be filmed by someone like this.” The comments were full of flying rumors. Of course, there were also some voices supporting me, but Wendy Hartley’s fans were too strong, and those voices were quickly drowned out in the tide. #InternationallyRenownedDirectorBulliesNewActress# #RainLotusPavilionDirectorRuns# #HartleyHeiressWendyHartley# Early the next morning, I saw these trending topics blazing across social media, along with 99+ unreadable messages in my inbox. Just as I was about to post a statement to explain, my brother’s call came through. “Little Zara, why aren’t you replying to messages?” My brother Lachlan Reeves’ deep voice came through the phone speaker. “What happened yesterday?” “Bro, check the trending topics,” I said. After a moment, the pretend-deep voice on the other end couldn’t keep up the act anymore. “Ahhh! Where did I get a second sister from?! I’m going to post on Twitter right now and call her out for riding on our coattails.” Imagining his exasperated expression, I couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly remembering the investor who had brought Wendy Hartley in, an idea struck me. I quickly stopped him, “Bro, listen to me.” I told him my plan. After hearing it, Lachlan wasn’t angry anymore. He clapped his hands and laughed heartily, completely losing the image of the elegant young master that the outside world saw him as. Finally, his voice carried a hint of coldness. “If this has nothing to do with our stepfather, that would be best. If it does have something to do with him, I just hope mother won’t be heartbroken.” I posted a statement as usual, clarifying what had happened on set that day. However, it was clear that few people believed me. Wendy Hartley’s fans continued to mock and stir up trouble in the comments, saying that I, an orphan, was jealous of the Hartley family’s young miss, and even shouted that I would face retribution in the future. I simply turned off my phone, out of sight, out of mind. At this moment, a notification from one of my special follows popped up. “@LachlanReeves: Don’t bully my sister, she just came back to the country and it’s not easy for her on her own.” Immediately after, a retweet appeared on my homepage from Wendy Hartley. She posted a few crying emojis, followed by a “Thank you, brother.” I could imagine Wendy Hartley’s expression as she posted this tweet, and I couldn’t help but retch a few times. Ugh, I wonder if Lachlan was disgusted by this. Lachlan’s tweet seemed to confirm Wendy Hartley’s identity. The comments under my post from Wendy Hartley’s fans became even more arrogant. “You bad woman, how dare you bully Wendy Hartley.” “Apologize to Wendy Hartley right now!” I didn’t care about the attitude of her fans. I looked with some amusement at the missed call notification from a contact labeled “Stepfather” on my phone. He must have seen the comments online and wanted to test my attitude. I didn’t respond to him, putting the phone aside and closing my eyes to rest. The fish was about to take the bait. It was time for the angler to relax a bit.
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