CHAPTER 131: A NEW CHAPTER BEGINS

"If the podcasts were already deleted, then why did it still have such a big impact that the government decided to change the rules?" I asked, frowning slightly.

Lando paused for a moment, looking as if he was deep in thought or maybe he was deciding whether or not to tell me the truth.

"I don’t know the full story yet," he said after a moment. "But my source told me that the president’s daughter was the one who urged parliament to revise the law. No one knows exactly why, but it seems she knew Helena personally."

The lines on my forehead deepened. As far as I could remember, I’d never met the president’s daughter.

All I knew was that her name was Anya Garrange, and I had no idea she was even interested in politics. The last time I checked, the media said she was busy running her own fashion brand.

So why did she suddenly step into politics, and go as far as changing a law that affected the entertainment industry?

Or maybe... it had nothing to do with me at all. Perhaps she had another friend in the industry who went through something similar, and she simply wanted to help them.

Yeah, that sounded like the most reasonable explanation for now.

"But even if the regulation hasn’t officially changed yet, I still wouldn’t give you such a long contract," Lando said. "Three years is enough to see whether a newcomer has potential. And if they want to leave ZTE afterward, then let them. At least the company will know who really wants to stay."

His statement caught me off guard, because usually, companies would never allow newcomers they had trained to just walk away to another agency.

It made sense though because after all, they’d invested a lot of time and money to build that person’s career.

Still, three years did sound fair. Some people became famous quickly, but most needed that much time to really make a name for themselves.

That’s why most actors would likely stay with Zentra after three years because switching agencies before your reputation was stable would be plain stupid.

"I see," I said softly. "That’s actually a fair rule."

I went back to reading the contract carefully, and my eyes widened the moment I saw that the company would only take 20% of the profit, while I’d get 80%.

"H-Husband... the government didn’t force the company to only take twenty percent, right?" I asked, my voice unsure.

No matter how I looked at it, it didn’t make sense. Taking only twenty percent from a newcomer was far too little. The company had to pay all the staff working under me, and usually, that money came from the percentage they took from my income.

That’s why most agencies took at least 35% from their celebrities’ income, and sometimes even more if they managed every detail of the actor’s career.

Back then, DN Entertainment took fifty percent of mine, so it felt strange—almost suspicious—that ZTE would only want twenty.

The last thing I wanted was for the staff to be underpaid. If that happened, they’d probably treat me poorly, and I didn’t want the people working for me to suffer.

"No, the government didn’t regulate that," Lando said. "But twenty percent sounds fair enough for you."

The way he emphasized ’you’

made me realize I was probably the only actress getting this kind of special treatment.

If the other celebrities under ZTE ever saw my contract, they’d probably throw me into the woods and let a hungry bear have me.

"I don’t think the company can pay the staff properly if they only take twenty percent of my income," I said carefully. "Don’t you think... thirty percent would make more sense?"

"No one’s going to be underpaid," Lando replied smoothly. "The company will handle that. You don’t need to worry."

I was about to say something else, but Marissa suddenly cut in. "Helcia, why are you worrying about that?" she asked with a light laugh. "If the company only wants to take twenty percent of your income, just let them. There’s no harm in that."

I bit my lower lip, glancing between the two of them. It felt like this was something they’d already talked about in their private chat before.

Still, Marissa wasn’t wrong. Since Lando had made it clear that the company wouldn’t underpay the staff, there really wasn’t anything for me to stress over. Besides, Marissa would still get her five percent share, so she had nothing to lose even if the company only took twenty percent.

That meant I’d be earning around seventy-five percent of my total income, an incredibly high amount compared to what I used to make in my past life. It was hard not to feel a little amazed.

"Then... I guess I really don’t have to worry about it," I said at last, exhaling softly. "I’ll sign the contract."

Lando’s lips curved into a faint smile as he handed me a pen. "Good," he said quietly, his voice low and steady. "Welcome to Zentra."

I took the pen, and for a brief moment, our fingers brushed. That tiny touch sent a small spark through me, making my heart skip a beat. I quickly looked down, pretending to focus on the document in front of me.

The soft sound of the pen gliding over the paper felt strangely final, like I was closing one Chapter of my life and stepping into a new one.

But maybe that was exactly what was happening. With this signature, I had officially turned a new page in my life. I might not be able to forget my past completely, but at least all the bad people from back then could no longer put shackles around my ankles.

When I finished, I placed the pen down and let out a quiet breath. "There. It’s done."

Lando nodded. "You made the right choice," he said in his calm, deep voice.

Marissa clapped her hands softly, smiling from ear to ear. "Congratulations, Helcia. You’re officially part of the company now."