The next morning, the neon lights in the hallways of the Four Seasons Manhattan felt blinding. Behind heavy oak doors, the echoes of hundreds of people arranging chairs and testing microphones sounded like war drums to Scarlett. Today was supposed to be the big day for Shadow of the Past. It was the project she had poured her soul and tears into, her very first film.
But inside the luxurious yet suffocating dressing room, Scarlett could only stare at her reflection in the mirror with a sense of hollowness. The emerald satin gown she wore was exquisite, yet she felt as though she were donning a suit of armor that was far too heavy.
"Scarlett, listen to me," Sean said, standing in the doorway in a well-fitted gray suit. His usually friendly face was now gravity-stricken. "Focus on the film. Ignore any questions off-script. We've coordinated with the PR team; they'll cut the mic of anyone who asks about Julian."
