Divorced, But Queen - Chapter 222: Chapter 222
You are reading Divorced, But Queen, Chapter 222: Chapter 222. Read more chapters of Divorced, But Queen.
Westin's eyes widened in surprise. "A woman?"
But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
That black vortex painting—so saturated with deathly stillness and despair—was pure emotion, not technique.
Only a woman could channel feelings so raw and nuanced onto a canvas.
"I want to meet my senior even more now," Westin admitted, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.
He was desperate to see more of Aria's work.
Mono wanted to see her too. In all those years, aside from their brief apprenticeship, they'd barely crossed paths. Aria was always busy.
When she finally found a moment of freedom, she'd suddenly gotten married—without a word to him.
Divorced, too, and never breathed a syllable. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.
The private suite was thick with smoke. Vanessa endured it with a poker face, doing her best not to cough.
Besides the "big boss" Dawson had warned her about and Orlando, there were two film company CEOs in attendance, each flanked by a stunning actress—the brightest stars in the entertainment industry.
All except Vanessa knew exactly how to play the game: pouring drinks, making conversation, serving up the kind of emotional energy these rooms demanded.
Russell and Orlando, strikingly handsome, didn't take advantage or make lewd jokes; the actresses' smiles were genuine, needing no cues from their bosses.
Yet the man in black—the one with a diagonal scar over his left brow and an aura colder than ice—was so intimidating no one dared get too close.
So it was Orlando who found himself sandwiched between two ambitious beauties, both determined to charm him.
Meanwhile, Dawson and the others were deep in negotiations with Russell about Nebula's expansion into domestic film.
Nebula, after all, was one of Masmubia's most powerful studios, responsible for blockbuster after blockbuster, its stars household names around the globe.
Russell, though a Huthailian, was one of Nebula's top executives, responsible for all business in the country.
But CEO was just his public face; what truly unnerved people was his background.
Dawson only knew bits and pieces, but he knew enough: cross this man and you'd disappear without a trace.
One of the film bosses piped up, "Mr. Nicholson, we've heard Nebula's planning to invest in Huthailia. Is there already a project in the works?"
Russell simply nodded. The laughter faded. Everyone leaned in.
His gaze slid to Vanessa's untouched glass. "Miss Ward, are you feeling unwell?"
Dawson caught on instantly, shooting Vanessa a warning glance—drinking was nothing in their world, just another part of the business.
Vanessa didn't flinch; she filled her glass, offered Russell a bright smile, and said, "Mr. Nicholson, let me toast to you. If you have any projects, I hope you'll consider Starmon Films. If not, at least keep me in mind."
She downed the drink in one go.
Everyone at the table had the same thought, but Vanessa was the only one bold enough to say it aloud.
Dawson's face twitched—he nudged Vanessa under the table, then stood to apologize. "Sorry, Mr. Nicholson. Our actress tends to speak her mind."
Russell said nothing. Orlando smiled faintly. "No harm done. Miss Ward is just looking out for her future."
A bit blunt, but honest.
Dawson quickly shifted gears. "There's a new sci-fi film in the pipeline. Miss Ward would be perfect for one of the roles—perhaps she could audition?"
Russell nodded.
Landing a role in a Nebula production was a golden ticket, the sort of opportunity that transformed careers overnight.
Everyone at the table was stunned.
Dawson nearly bounced back into his chair, while Vanessa raised an eyebrow, sensing something off beneath the surface.
One of the CEOs teased, "See, Vanessa? The rest of you should take notes."
The other actresses, emboldened, tried to be just as direct, but neither Russell nor Orlando offered them any promises. Regret was written all over their faces.
But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
That black vortex painting—so saturated with deathly stillness and despair—was pure emotion, not technique.
Only a woman could channel feelings so raw and nuanced onto a canvas.
"I want to meet my senior even more now," Westin admitted, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.
He was desperate to see more of Aria's work.
Mono wanted to see her too. In all those years, aside from their brief apprenticeship, they'd barely crossed paths. Aria was always busy.
When she finally found a moment of freedom, she'd suddenly gotten married—without a word to him.
Divorced, too, and never breathed a syllable. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.
The private suite was thick with smoke. Vanessa endured it with a poker face, doing her best not to cough.
Besides the "big boss" Dawson had warned her about and Orlando, there were two film company CEOs in attendance, each flanked by a stunning actress—the brightest stars in the entertainment industry.
All except Vanessa knew exactly how to play the game: pouring drinks, making conversation, serving up the kind of emotional energy these rooms demanded.
Russell and Orlando, strikingly handsome, didn't take advantage or make lewd jokes; the actresses' smiles were genuine, needing no cues from their bosses.
Yet the man in black—the one with a diagonal scar over his left brow and an aura colder than ice—was so intimidating no one dared get too close.
So it was Orlando who found himself sandwiched between two ambitious beauties, both determined to charm him.
Meanwhile, Dawson and the others were deep in negotiations with Russell about Nebula's expansion into domestic film.
Nebula, after all, was one of Masmubia's most powerful studios, responsible for blockbuster after blockbuster, its stars household names around the globe.
Russell, though a Huthailian, was one of Nebula's top executives, responsible for all business in the country.
But CEO was just his public face; what truly unnerved people was his background.
Dawson only knew bits and pieces, but he knew enough: cross this man and you'd disappear without a trace.
One of the film bosses piped up, "Mr. Nicholson, we've heard Nebula's planning to invest in Huthailia. Is there already a project in the works?"
Russell simply nodded. The laughter faded. Everyone leaned in.
His gaze slid to Vanessa's untouched glass. "Miss Ward, are you feeling unwell?"
Dawson caught on instantly, shooting Vanessa a warning glance—drinking was nothing in their world, just another part of the business.
Vanessa didn't flinch; she filled her glass, offered Russell a bright smile, and said, "Mr. Nicholson, let me toast to you. If you have any projects, I hope you'll consider Starmon Films. If not, at least keep me in mind."
She downed the drink in one go.
Everyone at the table had the same thought, but Vanessa was the only one bold enough to say it aloud.
Dawson's face twitched—he nudged Vanessa under the table, then stood to apologize. "Sorry, Mr. Nicholson. Our actress tends to speak her mind."
Russell said nothing. Orlando smiled faintly. "No harm done. Miss Ward is just looking out for her future."
A bit blunt, but honest.
Dawson quickly shifted gears. "There's a new sci-fi film in the pipeline. Miss Ward would be perfect for one of the roles—perhaps she could audition?"
Russell nodded.
Landing a role in a Nebula production was a golden ticket, the sort of opportunity that transformed careers overnight.
Everyone at the table was stunned.
Dawson nearly bounced back into his chair, while Vanessa raised an eyebrow, sensing something off beneath the surface.
One of the CEOs teased, "See, Vanessa? The rest of you should take notes."
The other actresses, emboldened, tried to be just as direct, but neither Russell nor Orlando offered them any promises. Regret was written all over their faces.
End of Divorced, But Queen Chapter 222. Continue reading Chapter 223 or return to Divorced, But Queen book page.