Chapter 112

Eleanor's POV

I ended the call with Serena, a faint smile lingering on my face. It was touching how she always checked in on me, even with everything going on in her life.

The smile faded as I glanced around the busy set. Everyone was rushing about, but somehow no one was calling for me. *Weren't I supposed to be shooting my next scene by now? I'd been sitting in this chair for what felt like hours.*

"Hey, Sarah?" I called out to my assistant, trying to keep my voice light. "Any word on when we're starting the next scene?"

She hurried over, clutching her tablet. "Let me check right away."

I watched her scurry off, drumming my fingers against the armrest. The waiting wasn't what bothered me - that was part of the job. But something felt off about today's schedule. The bedroom scene had been on the shooting list for weeks, and suddenly there was all this hesitation?

When Sarah returned, her expression told me everything before she even opened her mouth. "They're... making some adjustments to the schedule," she said carefully.

"What kind of adjustments?" I sat up straighter.

"Director Gillard said he'll explain-"

I was already on my feet. I spotted Jace by the monitors, deep in conversation with the cinematographer.

"Jace." My voice cut through the general buzz of the set. "When exactly are we shooting my scene?"

He turned slowly, and I knew. I just knew. "Eleanor. We're working on finding a suitable body double first. Once that's settled-"

"Body double?" The words came out sharp enough to make nearby crew members flinch. "Who said anything about a body double?"

"That's the production's decision." His tone was dismissive, like he was talking to some newcomer who didn't know how things worked. "It's not up for discussion."

I stepped closer, lowering my voice but hardening each word. "I. Don't. Need. One."

"Look," he sighed, finally turning away from the monitors. "You're a great actress, Eleanor. But for this particular scene-"

"For this particular scene, you want to replace me with someone else's body while keeping my face? Without even discussing it with me first?" Blood rushed to my face. "I've been preparing for this scene for weeks. It's crucial for my character's development-"

"The decision's been made." He cut me off, already turning back to the monitors. "Your contract gives us this discretion. You'll be notified once we're ready to shoot."

I stood there, anger bubbling beneath my skin. After all these years, I knew Jace Gillard's stubborn nature all too well. Every rejection, every dismissal - they had become as familiar as my own reflection.

"At least give me one chance to prove myself," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Why shut me down without even trying? What makes you so sure I can't handle this scene?"

The set had gone eerily quiet. Even the usual background chatter of the crew had died down to nothing. Jace remained focused on his monitors, his jaw set in that familiar, unmovable way.

"This intimate scene is mandatory from the investors," he finally said, his voice clinical and detached. "There will be multiple close-ups. I can't guarantee what will make it past the censors, but I need to deliver something."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Oh, I get it now." The words came out dripping with sarcasm. "Is it because my body isn't good enough for your artistic vision, Director Gillard?"

He finally turned to face me, his expression hardening. "That's why you're not suitable."

Those five words hit harder than any lengthy explanation could have. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, memories flooding back unbidden. That night years ago, stumbling toward him after one too many drinks, desperate to close the distance between us. The sharp pain as my head hit the corner of his desk when he pushed me away. The scar hidden beneath my hairline - a permanent reminder of my foolishness.

"Perfect," I spat out. My foot connected with the nearest chair, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound echoed through the silent set like a gunshot. "Absolutely perfect."

I turned and walked away, my heels clicking against the floor in sharp, angry staccatos. Behind me, I heard Jace's voice, steady and professional as ever: "Everyone back to work. We're moving on to scene twenty-three."