Reborn as the Villainess

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Stephen leaned back in his leather chair, and his eyes glued to the computer screen. On it, a grainy figure danced gracefully in the moonlight. The face was barely visible, and the image quality was poor-like something ripped from a security. camera. Yet Stephen couldn't look away, not even to blink.

"I have only two conditions," he said, his voice soft but firm. "First, Megan's role is non-negotiable. Second, use this 30 million dollars to improve the production conditions. I don't want the crew cutting corners. If it's not enough, come back to me. I'll pony up more." Victor was stunned into silence. "That's it?' he thought. "This can't be real. Shouldn't he be throwing his weight around, trying to get some mistress a bit part?'

He had the nerve to think it but not to say it out loud. However, since it seemed so simple, he certainly wouldn't refuse. "Of course, Mr. Lloyd. I'll make sure you're satisfied," he replied confidently.

After hanging up, Victor couldn't help but grin. Talk about a stroke of luck-before the cameras had even started rolling, the funding was already in the bag. "Thirty million dollars!' he thought excitedly. It was more than enough to bring his vision to life without any compromises.

Victor's moment of triumph lasted all of two minutes before a sharp ringtone cut through his thoughts. He glanced at his phone and froze in disbelief.

The screen flashed: [Mr. Vanderbilt, Vanderbilt Group.]

"What in the world is going on today?" he murmured under his breath. "Why are all these big shots suddenly blowing up my phone?"

Victor cleared his throat and answered, "Hello, Mr. Vanderbilt."

"Mm." The cool response came from the other end.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Victor. "Mr. Vanderbilt, may I ask what this call is about?" he asked cautiously. Andrew's voice carried an air of authority as he continued, "I hear you're about to shoot a new film called "The Nameless Sea, right? Vanderbilt Group is quite taken with the script. We have decided to invest 30 million dollars in your project."

Victor's throat went dry, and he swallowed hard. If he hadn't known Andrew and Stephen personally-their voices familiar and their numbers saved in his contacts-he would have thought he was dealing with some elaborate scam tonight.

Back in the day, Victor had to practically grovel just to get investors to glance at his scripts. Even after pitching his heart out, there was no guarantee anyone would bite.

Now, having someone eager to bankroll his project felt surreal. 'Since when did big shots start playing Santa Claus?' he thought.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Vanderbilt," Victor said, his tone cautious. "I'm curious though. Do you have any specific requirements? We're still in pre-production, so now's the time to discuss any conditions."This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

serious as he laid out his conditions. "I have only two demands. First, Megan's role stays with the current Felix's voice grew actress. Second, take this 30 million dollars and use it to improve the working conditions on set. I don't want anyone suffering through unnecessary hardships. If it's not enough, hit me up. I'll pump in'more cash." Victor stood rooted to the spot as the call ended, his mind reeling. A sense of déjà vu washed over him. It seemed impossible, yet he had just fielded identical demands from two separate industry titans.

Both insisted that Eleanor should continue playing Megan.

<

12:14 Mon,

'Wait a minute... he pondered. 'Eleanor... Vanderbilt? Isn't that the name of the long-lost heiress Vanderbilt Group recently tracked down?'

Victor began to connect the dots. 'So, Vanderbilt Group was backing up Eleanor. If that's the case, Vanderbilt Group's investment seems normal. But why is Lloyd Group jumping on the bandwagon? Could those online rumors about 'Mr. Lloyd actually having a thing for Mr. Vanderbilt' be true?'

The more Victor thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. The two men were evenly matched, and there was always a peculiar tension in the air when they met. Not to mention, neither had tied the knot despite being well into their prime.

'Well, well,' Victor mused. "The drama never ends with the rich and famous.

Meanwhile, Eleanor was blissfully oblivious to what was happening with Victor. She dragged herself out of bed for another early morning class, only to run into someone she'd rather not see.

Brock, with his hulking frame, was blocking the entrance to Class A. He had one of their classmates pinned against the wall, gripping the poor kid's collar and snarling something in his face. The scene looked like it could erupt into a full-blown fight at any moment. The other students in the classroom could only watch nervously not daring to intervene.

In the past, given Eleanor's personality, she would have likely turned and walked away. She preferred to avoid trouble, and this was exactly the kind of situation she'd rather not get involved in.

But now, as the class president of Class A, Eleanor had no choice but to step in.

Eleanor stepped forward, her voice tight with barely suppressed anger. "Brock, what the hell do you think you're doing? Back off. Now.",

Brock's fist hung in mid-air, his body suddenly stiff as a board. Just his luck, he thought. Of all the people to witness his bullying, it had to be Eleanor.

His mind raced. Eleanor had just walked in on him, roughing up one of her classmates. There was no chance of impressing her. If only he'd known she'd show up this early, he would've kept his cool. Sheepishly lowering his hand, Brock turned to face Eleanor with a hint of embarrassment. "Angel...you're here."

Eleanor frowned, eyeing him with a serious expression. "What are you doing outside our classroom? Is there really anything that needs to be solved with violence?"

Having lived two lifetimes, totaling nearly thirty years, Eleanor felt exasperated watching these kids resort to violence so quickly. She wanted to knock some sense into them. It all seemed so childish.

Brock, afraid of angering her, hastily explained, "Don't get me wrong, Angel! I wasn't starting trouble. He was the one talking trash about you, saying how pretty you are and stuff. Like he'd ever have a shot! Don't you think he deserves a beating?"

As Brock spoke, his anger reignited, and he started to roll up his sleeves again. But one glance at Eleanor's stone-cold expression had him backpedaling fast.

The boy Brock had confronted stood there, stunned by the public call-out. Red-faced but lefiant, he shot back. "Oh yeah? Didn't you just call her 'Angel' and say you'd marry her someday? Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black to me."

Brock was momentarily at a loss for words. But as soon as his eyes met Eleanor's dark, star-like gaze, his face flushed red. His trademark confidence crumbled faster than a house of cards.

"I mean... Yeah, I said that," he mumbled, "but you got me all riled up. And hey, what's wrong with having a little ambition?"

Mon,

Eleanor rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Brock, head back inside. From now on, if there's trouble, tell a teacher. Handle things like a grown-up, okay? No more of this tough guy act."

She then turned to the other boy. "You too. Get inside. The bell's about to ring."

As Eleanor was about to leave, Brock panicked. "Angel, wait!"

Eleanor paused, raising an eyebrow.

Brock, despite his muscular build, suddenly looked like a shy kid. He pulled out a large thermos from his backpack, his face flushing. "It's, uh, pumpkin soup my housekeeper made. It's really good! I thought...maybe you'd like to try some?" Eleanor was speechless. 'What game is he playing?' she thought. Who shows up to school with homemade soup, first thing in the morning?"