"Then perhaps we can coborate on another project in the future," Mr. Turner replied. He looked like a kindly old man, but he was notoriously stubborn. He immediately had the staff call in the next actress.


    Mr. Zade had no choice but to lead Queena out.


    "I don''t want a supporting role. It''s beneath me," Queena said, herrge, innocent eyes pleading.


    "Don''t worry," Mr. Zade reassured her. "Mr. Turner isn''t the only one with a say here. That lead role will be yours."


    Satisfied, Queena nodded. Then she added, "There''s an actress auditioning today named Yvonne. She''s a bully at our school, always picking on the other girls. Could you find a way to teach her a lesson?"


    "Bullying at your school? That''spletely out of control. Don''t you worry. I''ll have a word with the fight choreographer and have him give this Yvonne a proper lesson. I guarantee she won''t be bothering anyone again," Mr. Zade promised, patting his chest.


    Yvonne was thest actress to audition. Without an agency to rmend her, she had to put herself forward.


    Mr. Turner smiled at her, seemingly pleased with her appearance. "Youngdy, which role are you auditioning for?"


    "The female lead," Yvonne answered directly.


    "No acting experience, and you want the lead role? Dream on," Mr. Zade sneered, squinting at Yvonne.


    "How will you know if you don''t try?" Yvonne''s beautiful, almond-shaped eyes tilted upward, exuding a confident, untamed spirit.


    Mr. Turner, ever good-natured, chuckled. "Alright. It''s good to have dreams. You never know, they might juste true." He started flipping through the script, looking for a scene for Yvonne to perform.


    But Mr. Zade cut in. "Let''s try scene sixty-nine. Hardy, you run lines with her."


    Scene sixty-nine was a fight scene. Mr. Turner frowned slightly but said nothing. Although he was a famous director, he wouldn''t pick a fight with a producer over a minor issue, Besides, he didn''t have high hopes, for Yvonne anyway. Content belong''s


    Hardy, the fight choreographer, was a man in his early forties. He wasn''t tall, but years of martial arts had left him powerfully built. He exchanged a knowing nce with Mr. Zade.


    "Little girl, you look so delicate. One punch from me, and that pretty face of yours will be ruined," Hardy said with a seemingly jovialugh. "I suggest you give up now. Otherwise, if you get hurt, I''m not taking responsibility." He wasying the groundwork, ensuring he wouldn''t be held ountable if he actually injured her.


    Yvonne, oblivious to the industry''s political games, thought he was joking.


    "I''m ready when you are, sir," she said politely.


    Hardy assumed a fighting stance andunched a fierce, powerful kick aimed squarely at Yvonne''s chest.


    Instinctively, Yvonne raised her arms to shield her heart. The force of the blow sent her stumbling back several steps before she regained her footing. Though she wasn''t injured, her arms were already numb with pain.


    Her expression shifted. A kick like that, delivered to an ordinary girl, would have sent her flying and likely broken a few ribs. As a professional fight choreographer, Hardy had to know the potential damage. He had done it on purpose.