Chapter 17: Her Weakness
The film set bustled with activity as Imogen, the brand director, arrived early to oversee the setup. Her years of collaboration had forged a seamless understanding with her longtime partners–the photographer Alex and the makeup artist Charlie. Together, they transformed her visions into reality.
As the arran
nts took shape, Imogen’s watch ticked towards 9:00, the agreed–upon start time. An anxious half–hour passed, and Sarah and her team were not seen. The assistant had already nudged them once.
Photographer Alex adjusted his camera, muttering with a hint of exasperation, “Sarah’s acting like quite the prima donna.”
The makeup artist, Charlie, scoffed in response, “No surprises there. Coming back from abroad with an air of entitlement. If she wants to flaunt her diva persona, what can we do? Can we even replace her? Not even Imogen, given Mr. Marshall’s involvement.”
The truth was known to all: Mr. Marshall had handpicked Sarah.
While Imogen held the authority to change the brand’s spokesperson under normal circumstances, Sarah was an exception.
Even if Sarah’s behavior bordered on arrogance, they had to endure it.
Frustrated, Imogen dialed Ylah’s number, her patience wearing thin. The call rang, and then the disheartening beep of a hung–up call came.
Charlie frowned, irritation coloring his tone, “They’re pushing boundaries. Backed by Mr. Marshall, they’re ignoring you.”
Minutes dragged by without an explanation for their tardiness. Imogen dialed again and again, only to be met with silence on the other end.
Resigned, she tucked her phone away and turned to Alex and Charlie, her tone resolute, “They’ll probably arrive by noon. You two can head back for now. I’ll reach out if needed.”
Years of experience acquainted Imogen with various clients‘ quirks. Ylah’s plan had been apparent from the outset of their collaboration discussions.
Charlie huffed, “After all these years, this is the first time I’ve seen such a prima donna. She’s been working abroad for just a few years. No significant awards and no outstanding box office results. What makes her think she’s entitled to such behavior?” “Don’t let it bother you. Dinner’s on me next time,” Imogen offered.
“Alright, we’ll head out.”
With a farewell, Alex and Charlie left the studio.
Imogen remained, instructing her assistant to fetch her laptop and settle in the lounge
to work.
A commotion beyond the door diverted her attention. Checking her watch, it was now half–past eleven–her intuition had proven accurate.
The assistant knocked and informed her, “Director Forbes, Miss Page, and her team have arrived.”
“Alright, I’ll see them.”
Imogen c her laptop, packed it into her bag, and exited the lounge.
Seeing Imogen, Ylah’s face lit up, a semblance of a smile appearing as she approached. “Director Forbes, my apologies for the delay. An unexpected morning meeting with company leaders held us up. My phone was with the assistant, who failed to inform me of your calls. I’ll certainly reprimand him for his negligence. I hope you understand.”
Despite her words, there was no true apology in Ylah’s demeanor.
“Director Forbes, apologies for the inconvenience. There was an unforeseen situation,” Sarah added.
Imogen smiled graciously, “No worries, I was just about to leave.”
Ylah’s smile faltered, her tone cooling, “Director Forbes, what do you mean by that?” “Just what it sounds like.”
“Is this some sort of joke? Why not inform us earlier if you weren’t planning to shoot?” Ylah’s frustration simmered.
“It was a last–minute decision. With neither the makeup artist nor the photographer present, I attempted to call Director Willy this morning to apprise you. Regrettably, my calls went unanswered. I’m assuming it was your assistant’s oversight. Hence, I felt it necessary to wait for you in person, lest you arrive to an empty set.”
Ylah and Sarah’s expressions wavered at Imogen’s candid explanation.
“I’ve informed you now. I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll be on my way. I trust you both won’t be delayed for tomorrow’s shoot.”
Imogen’s smile remained steady as she walked away, laptop bag in tow.
Left behind, Ylah and Sarah exchanged glances, watching Imogen’s departing figure, their faces contorted with displeasure.
“Who knew she had such a cunning streak?”
Sarah mused, “I always said these tactics wouldn’t faze her. Think about it, could a -woman who captivated Mr. Marshall’s heart after I left be anything less than shrewd?” “Now what?”
Yiah realized they’d exhausted their excuses for tardiness today, and repeating them tomorrow would be futile.
Sarah’s fingers danced across her phone, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “I’m calling Mr. Marshall.”
Imogen was no pushover; her resilience made her immune to ordinary tactics. The
only one who could truly hurt her was the man she loved–Troy.
And that was where Sarah intended to strike.