"Madam, the tea is overflowing!"
Mrs. Thompson exclaimed in surprise and hurriedly stepped forward to grab the teapot, carefully checking Maeve Lane's hand, "Oh dear, it's all red from the burn. What were you thinking?"
Her concern made her forget to use formal language.
Maeve Lane didn't mind at all, "It's nothing, Mrs. Thompson."
"How can this be nothing when it's all red?" Mrs. Thompson urgently called for some burn ointment and applied it to Maeve Lane.
Maeve Lane mocked herself internally, thinking things weren't so bad after all, at least their debts were cleared, and her mother's illness was gradually improving.
A sudden force hit her, lifting Maeve Lane into the air, with a warm hand gripping her delicate waist as the world spun around her.
Mrs. Thompson was clearly startled, "Mr. Fairchild, what are you doing?!"
The man's gaze was chillingly intense.
Maeve Lane, hanging upside-down on his shoulder, remembered what had happened during the day, and had a bad premonition.
She tightened her grip on his clothes, her heart jumping into her throat.
In the bedroom, Julian Fairchild tossed her onto the bed, and as Maeve Lane tried to get up, he came over from behind her.
Without a word, he loosened his tie and leaned in to bite her on the nape.
"Ouch..."
Maeve Lane frowned.
She felt the man's breath more frenzied than ever.
...
Gradually, she lost her voice, her watery eyes shimmering.
Julian Fairchild grasped her hand from behind, whispering hoarsely, "I do like you."
Maeve Lane couldn't help but tremble, but her eyes brightened a little.
But it was only for a moment.
"Your body is indeed captivating."
—
Maeve Lane finally slept until noon.
There were only forty minutes left before the audition.
She forced herself to endure the discomfort and arrived on set with just five minutes to spare.
"Maeve Lane, why are you just getting here?!"
Sarah Sutton was worried sick, having almost talked to the director about rescheduling, but fortunately, Maeve arrived, "I called you and you didn't answer. What's going on? Is something wrong?"
As Maeve Lane entered the set, she immediately noticed Julian Fairchild and tried hard to ignore his gaze, "No problem, I can start the audition now."
Sarah Sutton noticed her pale face and asked with concern, "Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to rest for a bit? I can talk to the director about taking you to the medical room first."
Maeve Lane had already asked Sarah for too much help and felt embarrassed to trouble her any further, plus the pain was hard to mention, "It's fine, I'll go prepare now."
"Are you sure you don't need to rest?"
"No need."
Seeing her insist, Sarah Sutton didn't push further, "Alright, make sure to prepare well. I'll get you a bottle of water."
"Okay."
Maeve Lane entered the lounge, tidied up her outfit, and carefully reviewed the script again.
The five minutes passed quickly.
Just as she was about to leave, Sarah Sutton popped her head in and left a bottle of water, "Take it easy for a bit. I just saw Best Actor Fairchild talking to the director about the script. It might be a while before they're done. Make sure to rest up, and I'll come see you later after I deal with some things."
Maeve Lane nodded and glanced in Julian Fairchild's direction, confirming that he was indeed speaking with the director, allowing her to breathe a small sigh of relief.
It was just as well, as she wasn't feeling her best, and any extra rest was welcome.
"Oh, saying you don't like it, yet here you are," Sylvia Lane approached with a phone in her hand, standing before Maeve Lane, "Dad knows now, you know. He's really upset."
Just as Sylvia finished speaking, Maeve Lane's phone rang.