UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT Chapter 9

That afternoon, I found Sophie Ryan and passed along what Mr. Grant had said. She was on set shooting a commercial, dressed in a white sundress, smiling like an angel. But I knew how exhausted her heart really was.

She listened, fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “Got it. Eight o’clock, same place as always.”

Her calm only made my chest tighter. “Sophie, are you really going? Mr. Grant, he—” I couldn’t finish. My throat closed up.

She cut me off, eyes steady yet tinged with resignation. “Liam, I know what you’re thinking. But this isn’t something you can fix. There are things I have to face myself.”

She paused, her tone softening. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

That night, I went with Sophie to Paradiso.

Mr. Grant was already there, dark suit, his usual smile—only this time there was a dangerous undercurrent in his eyes, like a wolf waiting to pounce.

“Have a seat, Ms. Ryan.”

He patted the spot beside him on the sofa, too familiar by half, his gaze drifting over her like she was a rare piece of art.

Sophie sat. I stood to the side, palms slick with sweat.

Mr. Grant went straight for the point. “Ms. Ryan, I’ve spoken to the director about Starlit Romance. As long as you agree to my terms, the role is yours.”

“What terms?” Sophie asked, voice calm, as if she’d already rehearsed this conversation a hundred times.

He smiled, leaning in so close his breath almost touched her cheek. “You know how this business works—quid pro quo. I need you to accompany me to a private party. There’ll be some heavy hitters there. It’ll do wonders for your career.”

His words were so blatant they made my skin crawl, the greed in his eyes undisguised.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped forward. “Mr. Grant, Sophie’s here to act, not to play hostess.” My voice shook; anger made me forget my place.

He shot me a look sharp as a blade, laced with contempt. “Liam, you really don’t learn, do you? Wasn’t last time’s lesson enough? This isn’t your place to speak.”

Then he turned back to Sophie, smiling deeper. “What do you say, Ms. Ryan?”

Sophie drew a breath, her tone cool. “Mr. Grant, I understand what you’re asking. But I’d like our cooperation to be grounded in professional ethics. I won’t do anything against my principles.”

His face hardened, voice turning to ice. “You’re too naive. This business doesn’t run on principles—only on interests. If you won’t, I’ll find someone who will. Trust me, there are plenty waiting in line.”

The threat was naked. Sophie’s expression flickered, then smoothed. “I need some time to think.”

Mr. Grant nodded, his tone easing but edged with warning. “Fine. You have one day. Tomorrow night, I expect an answer.”

He stood and clapped my shoulder, the force more warning than friendly. “Liam, talk some sense into your client. Don’t let her miss her shot.”

We left the club, a weight like a boulder pressing on my chest.

Sophie was silent the whole way. I knew she was measuring the cost. Back at the office, she suddenly said, “Liam, have dinner with me tonight. My treat.”

I was surprised, but I knew she probably had something to say.

We went to a small place nearby, ordered a few dishes, but the air felt heavy. Sophie downed several glasses of wine; color bloomed on her cheeks, her eyes going hazy—like a soldier finally laying down her armor.

“Liam, what do you think of me?” she asked suddenly, voice so low it was almost to herself.

I froze. “Sophie, you’re brilliant. You work so hard. You really do.”

She gave a bitter smile, exhaustion clouding her eyes. “Hardworking? Sure. But sometimes, hard work isn’t enough. This industry is filthy. I’m wading through the mud every single day.”

She paused, her voice catching. “You know what? I used to have a dream—to make it on my own merits. But reality keeps telling me that’s impossible.”

Stardom’s Price