Chapter 22

After showering and changing into her clothes, it was almost time for Winnie to head to the set. She wasn't wearing any makeup, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes, with her hair left loose and her face covered by a black mask. The two of them left the suite, and as they reached the end of the hallway, the elevator door opened just in time. A stranger in a black suit walked out, still on the phone. "What?" He glanced at the disguised star, lowering his voice. "I've already seen her. I can give it to her now." Van motioned with his finger and took the phone from Eric. The bodyguard, who had already been there earlier in the morning, got to hear his boss's instructions firsthand. "Come back," Van commanded succinctly. Winnie politely passed by him, unaware. What she didn't know was that the black velvet jewelry bag the bodyguard was carrying contained a round pocket watch with a metallic sheen—something Van had handed to him at the golf course. Van had ordered him to drive it over, to return it to her before she checked out the next day. The bodyguard didn't know why his boss hadn't returned it yet. When they arrived at the set, the crew had just finished the day's work and were preparing to have dinner. Filming often meant rough conditions, especially when it came to meals, which were anything but fancy. Apart from the main and supporting actors, who got special meals, the rest of the crew had to settle for standard boxed lunches. While the crew members were groaning about the boxed lunches, a large vehicle pulled up to the security gate—a white van, well-maintained, so it didn't look like it was transporting junk. Everyone turned to look, and saw someone getting out of the passenger seat, wearing a work badge. He clapped his hands and called out, "Alright, everyone, stop with the boxed lunches, Mr. Robinson is visiting the set, so let's all have a nice meal!" The crew cheered in unison, and the sound of plastic containers being tossed into the blue trash bin echoed through the air. Winnie and Yulia stayed where they were. "Wyatt didn't come too, did he?" Yulia whispered, voicing Winnie's unspoken thought, with an unwilling expression. Wyatt's car was parked at the end of the alley. As he walked around the white van, a few assistant directors and Director Bramwell greeted him, followed by the male lead. He was dressed in casual slacks and an oversized shirt, looking stylish and youthful. Compared to others in the industry, he was indeed young, though in his early forties. What was rare was that he wasn't playing the field—since his divorce, he hadn't been seen with any young women. But when it came to this, everyone had their own opinions—after all, hadn't he been pursuing Winnie? How could he be so indecisive? Wyatt was one of the main producers of this film. Director Bramwell, though a prominent figure in the fifth generation of directors, didn't have consistent commercial success. His projects often veered off course, becoming sluggish and overly complicated, which made it quite challenging for him to secure investment. Wyatt orchestrated everything—funding the project and maneuvering behind the scenes to bring Director Bramwell's final work to fruition. With Wyatt's praise for Winnie, the director knew exactly what steps to take. In truth, it was a smart choice. Winnie's acting skills, awards, box office success, and popularity were all impressive, and her reputation for professionalism was well-known. The issue, however, was that she had been assigned by the investors to replace the director's original pick, a student he had hoped to promote. Naturally, that didn't sit well with him. The student had secretly had a child for him, and they had long ago agreed on compensating her with the lead role. Wyatt had orchestrated the project behind the scenes, but he never boasted in front of Winnie and rarely showed up on set. Other producers would at least visit occasionally, but Wyatt preferred to take a hands-off approach, giving the core team plenty of freedom. Now that the film was nearing completion, his visit seemed inevitable. The set was full of lavish gifts—Japanese meals and cakes from a five-star hotel, milk tea, coffee, and tea, with a packet of Davidoff for each person. The air was full of flattery and praise. Wyatt glanced over at Winnie, who was standing a little distance away, and raised his voice slightly, "This is all thanks to Winnie." The cheers and laughter echoed, enthusiastic and full of meaning. Winnie took a deep breath. Every time she saw Wyatt, she had to take a deep breath. After a moment, she walked toward the center, where everyone had gathered, and put on a perfect sweet smile, "You came all the way to visit the set. How could I take credit? I was planning to treat everyone to afternoon tea tomorrow, but it seems like you've beaten me to it!" Wyatt could see through her stiffness, but he pretended not to. In front of the core members of the crew, he whispered in a tone far more intimate than usual, "I know you're off sugar, so I saved you a portion, specially adjusted the recipe for you." Director Bramwell, who was over seventy, couldn't possibly cooperate with him openly, so the task fell entirely on the producer. He called everyone to start eating, subtly moving people away from the two of them. Wyatt didn't try to avoid it. He stood next to the car, accepting the obvious and subtle scrutiny from the entire set, and asked Winnie, "Aren't you eating?" Winnie waved him off, "I ate before coming." "Late-night shoot. Do you need me to keep you company?" Winnie felt a tightness in her chest, and her expression nearly slipped out of control. "You're making people misunderstand." Wyatt asked knowingly, "What kind of misunderstanding?" Winnie looked at his eyes, which had subtle creases. "You know what I mean." Wyatt smiled knowingly, "Stirring up rumors with me isn't bad for you, it helps block others." He gave her a meaningful glance. "What do you think?" Her little attempt to use him for cover had clearly been seen through long ago. Her smile cracked, turning awkward and unconvincing, so she stopped pretending. Winnie straightened her lips and said seriously, "I don't want to be gossiped about anymore." Wyatt looked at her for a moment, not getting angry, and with a calm, indifferent tone, said, "I thought you were someone who knew what was good for you." "I—" Wyatt raised a finger and pressed it to her lips. "I'm in a good mood today. You should know better."