Faye Vaughn was being torn to shreds online before she had even officially debuted.
Vivian Windsor's fans were full of hostility toward her.
Faye Vaughn paid it no mind, using a break in filming to return to the Hawthorne Family's villa.
She had lived there for three years and had accumulated quite a few personal belongings.
Watching her pack her bags, the servants whispered in the corner.
"Has the eldest young master dumped her?"
"She loved him so much. What a pity..."
"The eldest young master is still abroad with Miss Vivian. He doesn't care about her at all."
Faye Vaughn turned a deaf ear to their chatter.
She had bought her own apartment a while ago. With several suitcases in tow, she moved out of the Hawthorne estate for good.
Once she was settled, she sent a message to Wyatt Hawthorne.
[Mr. Hawthorne, thank you for your care over these past three years.]
[Let's... break up.]
Wyatt Hawthorne didn't reply.
He was in a meeting and spared a glance at the message, feeling nothing but annoyance.
'Faye is getting more and more ridiculous.'
'I've been too indulgent with her lately.'
'Now she dares to threaten me with a breakup.'
Faye Vaughn didn't have time to wait for Wyatt Hawthorne's reply and threw herself into filming Mysteries of the Republic.
During the first scene, just as expected, Second Young Master Vincent Hawthorne arrived.
He didn't let on that he knew Faye Vaughn, so everyone on set assumed he was there to visit the male lead, Ethan Shaw.
After her hair and makeup were done, Faye Vaughn emerged in a form-fitting qipao, drawing one gasp of amazement after another from the crew.
Stunning!
She was even more breathtaking than in the promotional photos.
Photos, after all, are static. But now, as she glided forward in high heels, her figure was exquisite, and every glance was filled with a captivating allure.
Like a rose from Shanghai's glamorous, bygone era, blooming brilliantly against the cold wind.
Faye Vaughn cast a glance in Vincent Hawthorne's direction.
Her red lips curved slightly, revealing the provocative smile of the story's heroine.
Vincent Hawthorne's heart suddenly tightened.
Then it began to beat rapidly.
'The resemblance is uncanny!'
'She's the spitting image of Vivian Windsor when she filmed this series years ago.'
Back then, Vivian Windsor had been about Faye Vaughn's age, still possessing a hint of youthful naivete.
That unwitting innocence mixed with her captivating charm was what made her so utterly alluring.
Faye Vaughn didn't greet Vincent Hawthorne, acting as if she didn't know him.
When she was acting, she was intensely focused, as if the woman from the script had stepped into the real world.
"This newcomer... she's incredible."
Behind the monitor, Director Quinn Coleman muttered to himself, "An actress with this much natural talent... I haven't seen one in years."
Vincent Hawthorne stood beside Director Coleman, his gaze locked on the girl on the screen.
She had a powerful on-screen presence, giving him the illusion that her every frown and smile was meant for him alone.
Behind his lenses, Vincent Hawthorne's gaze was scorching.
It had been a long, long time since he had felt desire.
He had watched this old film of Vivian Windsor's many times at night, but he always fast-forwarded through the more explicit scenes.
She was the pure snow in his heart, something not to be defiled.
But Faye Vaughn was different.
He didn't need to cherish her; all he had to do was throw money and resources at her.
After finishing a scene, Faye Vaughn went to the dressing room to change.
She had just changed into the costume for the next scene when she heard a knock on the door.
"Second Young Master?"
Outside stood Vincent Hawthorne, looking refined in a suit.
His signature silver-rimmed glasses added to his gentle, scholarly air.
"Miss Vaughn."
His tone was polite, but his actions were domineering. He walked into the dressing room and locked the door behind him.
"What are you planning to do, Second Young Master?"
Faye Vaughn raised an eyebrow at him.
"In Mysteries of the Republic, there's a scene where the heroine is being coerced by the Military Governor. She'd rather die than submit, so she stabs herself with a knife to threaten him."
Vincent Hawthorne said slowly, "I want to see you perform that scene."
Faye Vaughn chuckled. "So the Second Young Master enjoys thrilling scenes. When it's time to film that one, I'll let you know."
Vincent Hawthorne's lips curved. "No," he said, his voice gentle and polite. "I want you to perform it for me. Alone."
Faye Vaughn clicked her tongue inwardly.
'Just listen to him.'
'Sick.'
"One million for one performance."
Vincent Hawthorne was always direct with money and transferred the sum to Faye Vaughn on the spot.
In his eyes, Faye Vaughn was nothing more than a woman greedy for both money and love.
Her fantasy of marrying his older brother was simply a covetous attempt to secure the position of the Hawthorne family's eldest young mistress.
A girl like that, in the end, could be bought with money.
"Alright."
Faye Vaughn agreed.
A flicker of contempt—'just as I thought'—flashed in Vincent Hawthorne's eyes.
Faye Vaughn didn't miss his expression and smiled, unconcerned.
The first day of shooting was tough; it didn't end until ten at night.
When Faye Vaughn returned to the hotel for the cast and crew, she received a message from Vincent Hawthorne.
[Come over.]
[Room 8801.]
He was staying in the room right next to hers.
They were separated by a single wall, their balconies adjoining.
Faye Vaughn was in no hurry to deliver her performance. She replied lazily: [I've had a long day. I'm going to take a shower first.]
An hour later, she finally appeared in the adjacent Room 8801.
Vincent Hawthorne was sitting on the sofa. He didn't get up when he saw her, merely gesturing toward a clothing rack. "I've prepared the costume for you."
It was the silk nightgown the heroine wore in that scene.
In the script, the Military Governor tears the hem of her gown—a violent yet intimate act.
Faye Vaughn was a little confused. "Am I playing both parts?"
'Who's going to be my scene partner?'
Only then did Vincent Hawthorne slowly rise to his feet. "I'll play the Military Governor."
Faye Vaughn: "..."
'No wonder he's paying the exorbitant price of one million for a single scene.'
'So he has a kink like this.'
Faye Vaughn glanced at the favorability rating above his head. It was still stuck at 37%.
'Maybe I'll have a chance to raise it tonight.'
"Second Young Master, you should know that your older brother is the only one I love."
Faye Vaughn lowered her long lashes, rejecting him softly. "I can't do this with you."
A hint of mockery surfaced in Vincent Hawthorne's gentle voice. "Miss Vaughn, what did you think I was going to do to you?"
Faye Vaughn raised her eyes. "This scene involves intimate physical contact. Are you planning to touch me, Second Young Master?"
The look in Vincent Hawthorne's eyes darkened behind his glasses. He retorted coldly, "Can't you act without touching your scene partner?"
Faye Vaughn seemed confused for a moment before understanding his meaning. Then, she smiled in relief. "Ah, I understand now."
In truth, she had known all along that Second Young Master Hawthorne had a severe case of psychological mysophobia.
He wouldn't touch any woman—except for the goddess he worshipped in his heart.
Faye Vaughn took the nightgown from the rack and went into the bathroom to change.
It was a costume prepared by the production team, fitting for the plot—a red silk nightgown that accentuated the curves of her body.
When she came out after changing, she saw Vincent Hawthorne returning from outside.
He had gone to change as well.
He was now dressed as a Military Governor from the Republican era, in military attire and high boots. His usually gentle, handsome face now held a cold, murderous air.
"You look very handsome, Second Young Master."
Faye Vaughn didn't hold back her praise.
But Vincent Hawthorne wasn't susceptible to flattery. "Let's begin, Miss Vaughn," he said coolly.
Faye Vaughn lowered her gaze for a few seconds. When she looked up again, her expression was shattered, her eyes filled with tears of both anger and ill-concealed panic. "Military Governor, I'm not the kind of woman you think I am!"
She backed away step by step.
Her back hit the desk behind her, leaving her with nowhere to retreat.
Vincent Hawthorne closed in on her and sneered, "Then tell me, what kind of woman are you?"
He stopped just half a step away from her.
The two of them were already very close.
The scent of her rose and milk body wash lingered at the tip of his nose.
Vincent Hawthorne frowned, unaccustomed to the scent.
"Don't come any closer!"
Faye Vaughn cried out, raising the small prop knife. "Or else... or else I'll...!"