Chapter 39 BREAKING POINT PART 1
"Do you enjoy this?" Vivienne snapped.
Alexander blinked, confused. "Enjoy what?"
"Why is it so hard to please you?" The question came out almost like she was begging, and Vivienne hated how broken she sounded. But she couldn't stop now. The dam had broken, and everything was coming out. "No matter what I do, it's never good enough for you. What kind of person are you?"
"That's not..." Alexander started, but she cut him off.
"Eighteen takes, Mr. Hunt." She held up her hands, still shaking. "Eighteen times you told me I wasn't good enough. Eighteen times you made me do it again and again and again."
"Ms. Cross..."
"Don't." She stepped back when he moved toward her. "Don't tell me you're just trying to help. Don't tell me you're pushing me to be better."
"But I am..."
"No!" The word came out louder than she meant it to, echoing off the high ceiling. "You're pushing me past my limit because you can't accept that I'm not a professional actress! I don't have years of training. I don't have experience. I run a talent agency, for God's sake. I'm supposed to be behind the camera, not in front of it!"
The crew was completely still now, watching the fight unfold like they were watching a tennis match.
Alexander's jaw clenched. "You agreed to this project when you signed the contract. You knew what this would require..."
"I knew it would require work. I knew it would be challenging. I didn't know it would require me to be perfect on day one!" Vivienne's voice cracked, and she hated herself for it. "This is my first day, Mr. Hunt. My first day, and you've been treating me like I should already know everything, be everything...and give you exactly what you want without any learning curve at all."
"This project demands excellence..."
"And I'm doing my best!" The words burst out of her. "I'm doing my best, and if my best isn't good enough for your impossible standards, then maybe you should find someone else! Because I can't..." Her voice broke completely. "I clearly am not cut out for this."
She turned toward the exit again, her vision blurred with tears.
"Ms. Cross." Alexander's voice had taken on that authoritative tone, the one that probably made his employees snap to attention. "We're not finished..."
"Yes, we are."
Vivienne didn't run. She walked with as much dignity as she could manage, which wasn't much considering she was still in the mocap suit and with tears still in her eyes. But she kept her head up and her steps steady as she crossed the studio floor toward the double doors.
Behind her, she could hear Alexander say something else, but she wasn't listening anymore.
She pushed through the doors, and they swung shut behind her with a heavy thud that echoed through the hallway.
Alexander stood in the middle of the green screen area, exactly where Vivienne had left him. His arms had dropped to his sides.
Riley was the first to break the silence, setting down her water bottle with a soft clink. "Well. That happened."
"Riley," Eliza said quietly.
"I'm just saying." Riley held up her hands. "That was intense."
Victor cleared his throat, breaking his long silence. "Mr. Hunt, for what it's worth, the last few takes were reading really well on camera. We got some excellent data."
Alexander didn't respond. He was staring at the doors Vivienne had disappeared through, replaying the fight in his mind. Eighteen takes. Had it really been eighteen? He'd lost count somewhere around twelve.
"Sir?" Eliza came closer carefully, like she was approaching a wild animal. "What would you like us to do?"
He turned to look at her, uncertain. "I..."
He stopped. Started again. "I was pushing too hard."
It wasn't a question. It was a realization.
Priya, never one to hold back, spoke up from her station. "Yeah. You were."
Marcus winced. "Priya..."
"What? He was." She turned in her chair to face Alexander directly. "Look, Mr. Hunt, I've worked with you for three years. I've seen you be demanding. I've seen you be exacting. But that?" She pointed to where Vivienne had been standing. "That was something else."
Alexander's face hardened. "I was trying to get the performance we needed..."
"By breaking her down?" Priya's purple-streaked hair seemed to bristle with anger. "She's not a computer you can debug, sir. She's a person. And you pushed her way past the point of productive criticism into bullying."
"Priya," David, the assistant director, snapped. "That's enough."
"Is it?" Priya stood up. "Because I'm pretty sure we all just watched a woman have a breakdown in front of us, and we didn't do anything to stop it."
The words hit like a slap. Around the studio, guilty looks were exchanged.
Riley spoke up, her usual cheerfulness completely gone. "She's right. We all saw it happening, and we just... let it."
"What were we supposed to do?" Sam, one of the twins, asked quietly. "He's the boss."
"We could have said something," his sister Alex replied, looking at her brother. "We could have backed up Eliza when she suggested a break."
"I did suggest a break," Eliza said, her voice tight. "Multiple times."
Everyone looked at Alexander.
He stood there, surrounded by his team.
He'd been so focused on the work, on perfection, on getting exactly what he imagined, that he'd stopped seeing the person in front of him.
Just like his father used to do.
The realization made him feel sick.
"Take thirty minutes," he said quietly. "Everyone."
"Sir..." Eliza started.
"Thirty minutes. Please."
The crew didn't need to be told twice. They grabbed their phones, their water bottles, their jackets, and headed for the doors with barely hidden relief. Within two minutes, the studio was empty except for Alexander.
He stood alone in the vast space, surrounded by millions of dollars' worth of equipment, staring at the green screen where Vivienne had fallen apart.
He walked over to Victor's empty monitor and pulled up the footage from the last take. Take eighteen.
The playback showed Vivienne's face in stark detail. Every tear, every tremor, every moment of genuine breakdown. It was raw and real and exactly what he'd been trying to get from her.
And it made him feel like a complete bastard.
He watched it three more times, forcing himself to sit with the discomfort of seeing what he'd done.
His father had done the same thing to him once. During a presentation for investors when Alexander was twenty-two, still learning the business. His father had made him redo it seven times in front of the entire board, criticizing every word, every gesture, every breath, until Alexander had finally gotten it "right."
He remembered how small he'd felt. How humiliated. How he'd locked himself in his office afterward and punched a hole in the wall because he couldn't punch his father.
He'd sworn he would never be that person.
And yet here he was, eighteen takes later, having reduced someone to tears through sheer relentless criticism.
The studio door opened. Alexander looked up, hoping that it might be Vivienne returning.
It was Riley.
"She's in the stairwell," the production assistant said without being asked. "East side, between the second and third floors. Been there for about ten minutes."
Alexander stood up. "Is she..."
"Crying? Yeah. Also looked like she might be having a panic attack, but I'm not a medical professional, so don't quote me on that." Riley crossed her arms. "You should probably go talk to her."
"I should give her space..."
"With all due respect, Mr. Hunt, that's bullshit." Riley's usual playfulness was completely gone. "You broke her. So fix her. That's how this works."
She turned and walked back toward the door, then paused. "And sir? When you do go talk to her, maybe start with 'I'm sorry' instead of trying to explain yourself. Just a suggestion."
The door swung shut behind her, leaving Alexander alone again.