Jocelyn Lawrence possessed a stunning, almost vixen-like beauty. Her natural features were so good that even with a bare face, she was more photogenic than A-list celebrities who pulled out all the stops. In the entertainment world, she was the unmovable, perpetual second female lead.
Since her debut, she had accepted countless roles as the villainous second female lead. She had more haters than loyal fans, and whenever she started trending, it was guaranteed to be about people trashing her acting.
Her looks, however, were never the target of their vitriol. In the words of her handful of loyal fans, God had opened too many doors for her, so he had to close a window somewhere.
And it was a skylight he'd closed—the one for her acting ability.
And yet, strangely enough, her backing was so powerful that she remained a hot commodity. A-list directors practically fought over her for any role other than the female lead, driving her market value higher than that of many B-list or C-list actresses.
Looking across the entire entertainment industry, the most famous director who most disliked casting her was none other than her own brother and biggest hater—Aidan Lawrence.
Jocelyn Lawrence was sprawled out on her back, completely unconcerned. "You're the only one lucky enough to see me in this state."
"Not afraid I'll leak this to the press?"
Three empty drink cans already sat on the table.
Erin Lowell had a weakness for alcohol; she liked to drink whenever she was upset. Her tolerance wasn't high, but it took a while for the alcohol to hit her. An hour or so after drinking, she would probably be completely out of it.
Jocelyn Lawrence sat up. Her eyes first fell on the empty cans, then shifted to the scalpel on the table. Her expression darkened a few shades. "Go ahead and try. What media outlet would dare to write about it!"
Erin Lowell leaned back in her chair, eyes closed and face impassive.
'True enough.'
Everyone in the entertainment industry knew that Azure Entertainment had two darlings. People in the business didn't dare make a move on them, and the media didn't dare write slander. Jocelyn Lawrence was one of them.
Jocelyn Lawrence didn't rush to reply. The sight of the scalpel on the table seemed to alleviate some of her fatigue. She fished her phone out of her coat pocket, found Ian Sheffield's chat, and spammed him with dozens of stickers.
Finally, she sent the most important message: [She picked up the scalpel!]
Ian Sheffield wasn't asleep, either. He was standing on the balcony in the whipping wind, having just finished giving some instructions. With the wind howling in his ears, his thoughts were a chaotic mess: [I know. She'll probably be drinking. Take good care of her.]
He was her boss, after all. She replied with an "Okay," dropped her phone, and ran over without even putting her shoes on. She mimicked her friend's posture, crouching on the chair and calling her name softly.
"Erin Lowell."
"Erin."
"Sweetie."
Erin Lowell wasn't drunk yet. In fact, her mind was exceptionally clear. Hearing her name, she managed to open her eyes. The corners were red. "What?"
Jocelyn Lawrence snatched the bottle from her hand and took a deep swig. "I'm flying back home with you tomorrow."
"Don't you still have scenes to film?" It was hard to tell if Erin Lowell was drunk. She smiled through her reddened eyes, but there wasn't a trace of joy in it. "Did they kill your character off again?"
"Hehe." She let out a goofy laugh, looking rather pleased with herself. "They didn't kill me off this time. Tomorrow I'm gonna go find that bastard and have him write me a death scene. He's put me through hell so many times, I've got to even the score somehow."
The alcohol was finally hitting Erin Lowell, and her eyelids began to flutter. "You finally have a role that isn't the second female lead. Don't mess around."
"..."
This time, she wasn't playing the second female lead, but the third. In any production helmed by Aidan Lawrence, he never gave her a good role—only insignificant parts that were either completely disposable or added in at the last minute.
Like the male lead's soon-to-be-dead first love.
Or the male lead's already-dead first love.
...
'That was even worse than playing the second female lead.'
"I'm not messing around." She drained the rest of the bottle, tossed it aside, and squeezed onto Erin Lowell's chair. "I'm sick of being overseas. I want to go back with you."
"Move." Erin Lowell gave her a gentle push. "I finally understand why you're such a lightning rod for haters."
The corner of Jocelyn Lawrence's mouth twitched. "Tsk, tsk. Good thing you're not one of my haters."
After she said that, her eyes fell on Erin Lowell, and she suddenly froze.
She must be completely drunk, because she was crying.
Jocelyn Lawrence tugged at her clothes, feeling increasingly frustrated. Erin Lowell was always like this. When she wasn't drunk, everything seemed fine. She would suppress everything, bottle it all up, endure it in silence, and no one would have a clue.
But the moment she got drunk, all of her emotions and defenses would come crashing down.
Erin Lowell, finding the chair uncomfortable, moved to lie down on the sofa, her lips moving in a constant murmur.
Jocelyn Lawrence didn't get any closer, but she knew what—or who—she was murmuring about.
「The next day, 9:30 AM.」
Jocelyn Lawrence was woken by a series of polite rings from the doorbell.
Erin Lowell was gone from the living room. Jocelyn tossed off the blanket that was draped over her, picked up the phone that had fallen to the floor, and saw a message from Erin.
[I went back to the hotel to pack. I'll see you at the airport in a bit.]
'Once the alcohol wore off, Erin was back to normal.' She was a master of controlling it. When she was lucid, not even a needle could find its way into her heart.
That was the kind of person Erin Lowell was. If she didn't want you to, no one could ever hope to glimpse her true thoughts—at least, not yet.
She replied: [K.]
The doorbell chimed again.
She assumed it was her agent, so she didn't bother with makeup and answered the door in her slippers. But then she froze, her brow furrowing. "Who are you?"
Outside stood a man dressed all in black. He had broad shoulders and long legs, and a bandage was wrapped around his wrist. His brow furrowed in sync with hers, and then his entire aura turned ice-cold.
His features were handsome but coolly detached, and he didn't look particularly friendly. His physique, however, was irrefutably amazing. Jocelyn Lawrence arched an eyebrow, a smile instantly replacing her previous expression. "Hey there, handsome. What's wrong?"
Realizing he was Chinese, she spoke in Mandarin instead of her clumsy English.
Out of courtesy to a stranger, Zane Jennings took a step back. "I'm looking for someone."
"Who are you looking for?"
She had to admit, this man checked all her boxes. Leaning against the doorframe, she let her lips curve into a brilliant, vixenish smile.
Her question stumped Zane Jennings. He had been too overwrought yesterday and had failed to get her contact information; they hadn't even introduced themselves.
"The woman who stayed here last night," he said.
'Could she have lied to him again and just left without saying goodbye?' A sudden panic seized him.
'The woman who stayed here last night?'
Jocelyn Lawrence looked up, bit the corner of her lip, and gave him a thorough once-over before it clicked. "You're looking for Erin?"
Zane Jennings didn't know Erin Lowell's name, nor did he know if this "Erin" she spoke of was the same person. He could only deduce based on the timing and assume it was right. "That should be her."
"Oh." 'Another handsome man fallen victim to Erin's scalpel.' Her face showed open regret. "What a shame. She's already flown back home."
Upon hearing this, Zane Jennings paused for a long moment. He glanced at the gauze on his wrist, now stained red with blood. Looking back up, his posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but his tone was polite. "Would it be convenient for you to give me her contact information or an address, then?"
As much as this man was her type, she would never sell out Erin Lowell. Between a hot guy and her best friend, she knew exactly where her loyalties lay.
Jocelyn Lawrence didn't hesitate. "That's not convenient."
Zane Jennings's usual style was simple and casual. The fringe of his hair fell forward, perfectly concealing the break in his left eyebrow, making him look less intimidating and more roguishly charming.
He had never been a patient man and simply turned to leave.
Jocelyn Lawrence shrugged. Just as she was about to close the door, her gaze flickered to something in the distance. Her hand shot out, yanked the man back inside, and she slammed the door shut behind them.
Zane Jennings stumbled backward, his voice laced with anger. "What the hell are you doing?"