CHAPTER 142: WHAT A SMALL WORLD INDEED

Fiona’s plan — the carefully crafted act of concern, the subtle manipulation — had backfired spectacularly.

And the worst part? Anna hadn’t even needed to say a single word to win.

"Director Wilsmith, you..." Fiona started, her voice faltering when Wilsmith’s calm but cutting gaze met hers.

He leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "Are you satisfied now, Miss Fiona?" he asked smoothly. "I considered your words."

The faint smile that followed made Fiona flinch. It wasn’t warm — it was deliberate, edged with quiet irony.

Still, she forced a shaky smile and nodded quickly. "O-of course, Director."

Wilsmith nodded once before glancing at Anna. "Miss Anna, you truly have loyal friends who care about you," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "Look at Miss Fiona — she came all the way here to convince me on your behalf."

He paused, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Though all she really did was try to convince me otherwise, he thought dryly.

Anna tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable as she turned toward Fiona. "Is that so?" she asked softly, her tone polite but laced with meaning. "I never realized Fiona would go to such lengths for me."

Her lips curved into a poised smile. "I must be lucky to have such good friends, Director Wilsmith."

Fiona’s smile wavered. Her confidence — the smug assurance she’d worn coming into the room — was crumbling fast.

Anna watched her closely, savoring the flicker of discomfort in Fiona’s eyes before adding sweetly, "I hope I can also be that kind of friend to her someday."

The words were kind on the surface — but the glint in Anna’s eyes said otherwise.

Fiona looked away, the air between them charged with unspoken challenge.

"Alright," Wilsmith said, clearing his throat, effectively cutting through the tension. "Now that everything’s settled, let’s get back to work. Shooting resumes in thirty minutes."

Anna nodded and rose gracefully from her seat. "Understood, Director."

Without another glance at Fiona, she turned and headed for the door.

Fiona followed a step behind, her jaw tight, her hands clenched at her sides.

As the office door closed behind them, Wilsmith exhaled, shaking his head with a faint smirk.

"Women," he muttered under his breath, before turning his focus back to his work — though a small part of him couldn’t help but admire Anna’s composure.

She hadn’t just survived the ambush. She’d turned it into victory.

***

[Outside]

The door closed behind them with a soft click, and the moment it did, Fiona’s expression shifted. The polite mask she’d worn inside dissolved into irritation.

Anna, sensing her glare, turned around with an easy smile that only deepened Fiona’s frustration.

"Thank you so much, Fiona," Anna said sweetly. "Because of you, Director Wilsmith didn’t change his mind."

The faint curve of her lips was polite, almost kind — but there was something in her tone that made Fiona’s stomach twist.

"Though..." Anna added lightly, tilting her head, "I doubt that was your intention."

Fiona’s brow furrowed. The anger she’d been nursing flickered into confusion. "What are you implying?"

Anna’s smile faded, her eyes sharpening until the air between them turned heavy.

"I think you already know," she said quietly. "You’ve always had a habit of stirring chaos in my life, haven’t you?"

Fiona’s face went pale. "W-what do you mean? You think I did this?" she stammered, trying to sound offended — but her voice cracked, betraying her.

Anna stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. "You can deny it all you want, Fiona. But we both know how conveniently my private life keeps becoming public — right after you learn about it."

Her words were calm, almost too calm. It made Fiona’s pulse spike.

Anna didn’t need proof — not yet. Her gaze alone was enough to strip the pretense from Fiona’s face.

And Fiona felt it — that unnerving stillness, that quiet certainty. It was as if Anna could see straight through her, peeling away every lie she’d carefully built.

"Is it not you, Fiona?" Anna asked, her voice soft but laced with quiet venom. "After all, my dear friend does enjoy creating problems for me."

Fiona swallowed hard, her throat dry. Her composure was crumbling.

Just then, the door behind them opened again, and Director Wilsmith stepped out.

"Oh, you two are still here?" he asked, raising a brow.

Anna turned immediately, the tension vanishing from her face as she flashed a bright, disarming smile.

"I’m sorry, Director," she said smoothly. "I just wanted to thank my friend here. After all, everything went so well because of her."

Wilsmith blinked, a faint frown forming as he glanced between them. Something about Anna’s tone didn’t sit right with him.

Am I imagining things? he thought. Why does she suddenly sound so sweet... and yet so dangerous?

He cleared his throat. "Well, alright. But we should hurry, Anna. The shoot can’t be delayed."

"Of course," Anna said, nodding. Then she turned back to Fiona, her smile never faltering.

"I hope my gratitude felt genuine, Fiona," she said lightly. "I truly hope I have friends like you all my life."

Fiona’s lips twitched. She knew exactly what Anna meant — and that those words weren’t gratitude at all.

"Of course," Fiona forced out, her voice tight. "For a long time, Anna."

But even as she said it, Anna’s earlier words echoed in her mind — and the chill they carried stayed with her long after Anna walked away.

The rest of the day passed in relative calm. Anna continued her shoot, her focus unwavering, as if the morning’s confrontation had never happened.

What she didn’t know, however, was that someone was watching her.

Fiona, of course, hadn’t taken her humiliation lightly — but she wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on Anna. There was someone else. Someone there for a different reason entirely.

Collin.

Disguised as one of the crew members, he moved through the set quietly, blending in with the staff handing out bottles of water and juice. His uniform was plain, his demeanor unremarkable — but his eyes never left her.

For a while, he couldn’t quite place why she held his attention so completely. Something about the way she carried herself — calm, precise, too composed for someone under scrutiny — stirred a faint memory.

’Where have I seen her before?’ he wondered, pausing near the lighting crew, his gaze fixed on her as she laughed at something the cameraman said.

Then, all at once, it clicked.

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition lighting up within them.

’So it was her,’ he thought, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

’What a small world indeed.’

The realization sent a spark of satisfaction through him — though whether it was because of what he’d discovered or what he planned to do with it, even he wasn’t sure.