?<strong>Chapter 201:</strong>


    Amid the warm wee, Asher approached, holding a brown paper bag with a proud grin. “My aunt made this beef jerky—several vors! You have to try them and pick your favorite first.”


    During their time filming together, everyone had gotten to know her tastes a bit. “Carrie, hurry and choose. We’ve been drooling over it!”


    Carrie blinked in surprise as Beverly added with mock exasperation, “We’ve been staring at it all morning! Asher wouldn’t let us touch it until you had first dibs.” Chuckling, Carrie epted the bag.


    Inside were several containers, each sealed and neatlybeled. When Asher popped one open, a rich aroma of spices and beef filled the air, making her mouth water.


    Her stomach growled as she took a bite, savoring the tender texture and bold vor. She quickly chose the spicy jerky, her personal favorite, and passed the rest to the eager crowd.


    They all thanked Asher, and Carrie too. After all, without Carrie, how else could they taste homemade beef jerky from Asher?


    As theughter and chatter continued, Carrie’s smile wavered as she caught a sh of light from the corner of her eye. The set was located in a bustling area, with no road closures—just a cordoned-off zone for filming. Nearby, fans and curious passersby lingered to watch.


    Her gaze swept over the crowd, her instincts prickling with unease. She had a nagging feeling something was amiss.


    After handing out his aunt’s beef jerky, Asher joined in with the team, his easygoing demeanor lifting spirits. Beverly, armed with her brushes, paused mid-stroke while doing Carrie’s makeup. “You’re so beautiful,” she said with genuine admiration.


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    Carrie’s striking features and wless skin always left Beverly in awe.


    Momentster, Asher approached with a script in hand. “Carrie, I think we need to tweak this line a bit…” His voice trailed off as he noticed her leg propped up on a stool.


    A faint scar caught his attention. “What’s this?” he asked, his brows knitting in concern.


    Carrie followed his gaze and shrugged. “Nothing major. Just an old scar. I’ll have Beverly cover it up with some concealerter. It doesn’t look great on camera.”


    The scar, though mostly healed, stood out against her otherwise wlessplexion—a faint pinkish mark.


    Without a word, Asher picked up the concealer and a brush, crouching to apply it himself.


    Carrie quickly stopped him. “Don’t! If your fans see this, they’ll tear me apart!”


    The moment the words left her mouth, a chill ran down her spine. That same eerie sensation of being watched crept over her again.


    Abruptly, she stood and headed toward the roadside, her gaze scanning the area.


    “What’s wrong?” Asher followed, his brows furrowing.


    Carrie’s gaze darted across the street, her unease growing. “I keep feeling like someone’s taking pictures of me.”


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