UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT Chapter 34

I forced a smile to hide my unease. “You flatter me, Ms. Ward. Maya has real potential; I’m just doing my job.”

She nodded, her gaze warm yet appraising. “This industry isn’t easy, especially for newcomers like Maya. Keep a close eye on her—don’t let anyone take advantage of her.”

Her words warmed me. I nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Ward. I will.”

We talked through some collaboration details until Ms. Ward took a call, stood, and said she needed to check on the shoot, leaving me alone in the lounge.

I leaned back on the couch, but the images from set wouldn’t leave me—Maya’s pale skin, the pull of lace, and those girls’ suggestive curves, here and gone under the lights.

My phone buzzed—a text from an unknown number:

“Ethan, how’s the commercial coming? Don’t forget—the temptations in this business are only just beginning.”

A jolt ran through me. Chloe’s warning flashed through my mind.

No signature. It hung like fog and sent a chill down my spine.

I clenched the phone and told myself:

Ethan, stay steady. No matter how many traps this industry sets, you have to push through.

That message stuck in me like a nail, making it impossible to settle.

Clutching my phone, my mind tangled, trying to guess who was pulling strings—Lisa’s teasing? Chloe’s warning? Or some shadow player I’d never even met?

Unease surged like a tide, and a more urgent question hit me:

The shoot should’ve wrapped by now. Why hadn’t Maya come to find me?

Allure Angels usually moved fast, and the set was staffed entirely by women. There shouldn’t have been any issues.

But my instincts blared like an alarm—especially when I pictured Ms. Ward’s gentle face, that faint, elusive curl at her lips, as if hiding something no one should know.

The more I thought, the worse it felt. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I jumped up, shoved open the lounge door, and ran for the set.

The corridor was eerily quiet, heavy with the sweet, cloying scent of perfume and makeup.

I stopped a passing employee, urgency in my voice. “Is the shoot over? Where’s Maya?”

She dropped her gaze, muttered “I don’t know,” and hurried off.

I asked a few more staffers and got the same evasions. Some even detoured around me like I was contagious.

My heartbeat sped up, gripped by an invisible hand.

Passing the makeup room, I caught sight of models in lingerie touching up—lace thin as air tracing fierce curves, deep V necklines flickering in the lights, hot enough to make blood race.

I didn’t care about the awkwardness; I stopped one of them. “Is the shoot over? Why hasn’t Maya come out?”

Fear flickered in her eyes. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but she only shook her head and whispered:

“I... I don’t know.”

She dropped her head and hurried away, like she was afraid to be seen. The others were the same—averted eyes, mouths sealed by pressure you couldn’t name.

Anxiety coiled like a snake, sinking fangs into my heart. Then, faint and thread-thin yet thunderous in my ears, came a cry for help: “Ethan, help me!”

Maya’s voice!

My heart stopped. Only one thought remained: she’s in danger!

I tore toward the sound, my soles drumming a frantic beat on the floor.

It came from the far end of the hall. I skidded to a carved wooden door with a gold plaque that read Executive Office.

The door was bolted tight, as if hiding something no one was meant to see.

Behind the Lights