Chapter 13

Henry's face suddenly turned dark.

Zoey gave an awkward smile and quickly turned away to answer the call.

It was the chief director. "You can head straight home today, no need to come to the set."

The tone was stiff, clearly unhappy.

Zoey thought of the unteachable Natalie and totally got why the director was pissed. She even tried to comfort him. "It's the first scene today, so everyone's bound to be nervous. It should be better tomorrow."

The director suddenly sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "No need for you to worry."

The call ended.

Zoey stared at her phone, feeling a bit puzzled.

Why did it seem like the chief director's anger was aimed at her? Did she do something to upset him?

No, the entire crew had always treated her with great respect. Even if there was a misunderstanding, the director wouldn't talk to her like that.

Zoey, full of doubts, sent a message to Claire. After a while, Claire replied: [Zoey, the props team asked me to help with props. It's a huge workload. I'll get back to you once I'm done, baby.]

Henry waited for her to finish the call before asking, "Was that the crew?"

She nodded and naturally said, "Then I'll head home first."

Henry followed her silently. When they went downstairs, the car was already waiting.

Zoey was about to say goodbye when Henry said, "Get in, I'll take you home."

There were so many people watching the fireworks today that it would be hard to get a cab, and her place was far from here.

Without much hesitation, Zoey got in the car after giving the address, keeping her eyes closed the whole time to avoid any awkward situations.

A burning gaze seemed to linger on her face, making her even more afraid to open her eyes.

Enduring the discomfort, they finally arrived at her apartment complex. Zoey suddenly thought of something and said, "Please stop here."

As she got out, she turned to Henry and said, "Wait for me a moment."

She jogged to a small shop, her favorite hot dog place. Whenever she was unhappy, she would come here to buy one. She was surprised it was still open after all these years, so she lived nearby.

Henry was indeed waiting in the car. The man for whom time was literally money, waited for Zoey for ten minutes without any explanation.

John kept checking Henry's expression in the rearview mirror, ready to jump out and get Zoey back.

Zoey didn't come back until she was holding a small food bag, the pungent aroma of sauce hitting their nose..

Henry frowned; he didn't like street food.

"This is my favorite hot dog. You probably haven't tried it. Give it a taste. If you don't like it, you can throw it away." She introduced it with a smile.

John immediately reached out, but Henry slapped his hand away.

Henry's well-defined hand hooked the bag, his eyes lingering on her lips for a second before he chuckled. "I'd prefer a different kind of thank-you gift."

Zoey caught his gaze, instinctively pressed her lips together, and quickly closed the car door. Without so much as a farewell, she hurriedly fled into the neighborhood.

The sauce's smell was so strong that it soon filled the car.

John immediately turned on the ventilation system, saying, "I'll take care of it."

Henry gave him a cold look and asked lightly, "Take care of what?"

John swallowed nervously.

Henry's diet was meticulously planned by a nutritionist, and he never touched outside food. Henry himself also looked down on such things.

Surely he wouldn't break his rules for a woman and try this stuff, right?

While John was still guessing, Henry had already opened the bag.

The strong smell hit him, making Henry frown and lean back. After a moment, he tried one.

It wasn't great, but because Zoey had bought it, he could swallow it.

John watched as he ate the whole thing, his face wrinkling.

"Mr. Windsor, are you okay?"

Henry swallowed the last bite and said only one sentence, "Go to the hospital."

Zoey didn't know any of this, enjoying her food on the couch.

Claire didn't come back until midnight.

Feeling weird, Zoey called Claire.

Carol sounded exhausted. "Zoey, I'm still working on props. I probably won't come back tonight. Bring me some ravioli in the morning."

The next day, Zoey arrived at the set and immediately sensed something was off.

People who had been all over her the day before were now avoiding her like she had the plague.

Zoey took her breakfast to the lounge, where Carol, who hadn't gone home, was eating breakfast with dark circles under her eyes.

"Claire, did something happen on set yesterday?"

Carol slowly looked at her, like a rusty robot, and after a moment answered, "Nothing special. Just that the producer got a call and then cut all the intimate scenes."

It didn't sound like a big deal.

Zoey felt something was off and asked, "Did the first scene pass?"

Carol replied, "Yeah, it passed in one take. The director, for some reason, is now unconditionally flattering Natalie, no matter how poorly she acts."

"They're all saying Mr. Windsor cut the intimate scenes because he doesn't want to see Natalie getting close to anyone else."

Zoey was stunned.

In the entertainment industry, it was not unusual for an actor or actress to be offered resources in exchange for sexual favors, and vice verse. Given Henry's stature and status, it would be strange if he didn't do such things.

But why did she feel so uncomfortable?

"Are you ready? If so, we need to start shooting." The crew impatiently urged from outside.

When they got to the set, Zoey understood what Claire meant by "unconditionally flattering." No matter the scene, Natalie just had to sit there, and the camera did the rest.

The director kept flattering her. "Good, very good."

Zoey had no chance to speak, being pushed to the corner.

During the break, the director was still fawning over Natalie. "Miss Davis, your commendation of our team to Mr. Windsor will be greatly appreciated."

Natalie blushed, modestly saying, "Director, you overestimate me. I don't have that kind of influence."

Zoey was treated like she was invisible.

Feeling nauseated, Zoey stood up and told Claire, "It looks like they don't need us. Find a place to rest, and I'll get the car to take you home."

Zoey turned and unexpectedly saw John.

John respectfully invited, "Miss Spencer, Mr. Windsor is waiting for you in the car."

Zoey instinctively wanted to refuse but thought of Henry's status and followed.

Same car, same space, same seat.

But Zoey didn't feel her heart pounding like yesterday, only a vague sense of frustration.

Henry had intended to check if the intimate scenes were removed before his meeting, but seeing Zoey sitting alone in the corner, he felt a pang of sympathy called her over.

"Feeling down?" His voice was as deep and pleasant as ever, but Zoey felt worse, her face stern. "Mr. Henry Windsor, if you has nothing else, I'd like to go home."

Hearing her refer to him as 'Mr. Henry Windsor' in such a cold tone, Henry felt a surge of anger, his tone hardening. "You just got to the set and want to go home?"

Zoey thought he was blaming her and retorted, "Don't you know why?"

In his thirty-some years, no one had ever questioned him like this.

He frowned, warning, "Watch your tone."

The tension in the car was thick.

Zoey got up to leave, unable to control her temper. But before she could reach the door, Henry pulled her back, causing her to stumble into his arms.

His embrace was broad and warm.

However, the thought of him possibly embracing Natalie made Zoey struggle to break free.

Henry, annoyed by her struggle, grabbed her waist with one hand and lifted her chin with the other, kissing her forcefully.

At first, Zoey resisted, but gradually, as she became breathless, her eyes glazed over, and she slowly gave in.

Henry softened, patiently exploring her mouth.

His hand moved from her chin to her chest, unbuttoning her shirt and gently kneading her breast.

His palm felt like fire, heating everywhere it touched.

Zoey trembled, weakly grabbing his wrist, softly pleading, "Stop touching."