Chapter 2

The scenes from that day kept swirling in my mind, strangely vivid and clear.

I demanded, "Cindy, could you spare a thought for us poor extras roasting out there in the sun? Can we just get on with the shoot already?"

That was all I said.

But all I got in return was her haughty reply.

Cindy sneered, "You're just an extra, and you dare talk to me like you're here to lecture me? Do you even know how things work around here? If you don't, guess I'll have to show you."

She blew up at the assistant director right on the spot.

She snapped, "Some lowly extra actually dared to boss me around? Make sure she learns her place."

For the rest of that scene, I got stuck with all the nastiest, most exhausting jobs on set.

After I was done with all that, the assistant director, face stiff, told me, "Go apologize to Cindy."

I lost it right then and there. I shot back, "Why should I be the one to apologize? She's the one in the wrong. She's pulled this crap so many times already."

I wasn't lying.

Anyone with eyes could see it.

Cindy was obsessed with her image. Her hair and makeup had to be perfect, not a single hair out of place.

If there was even the tiniest flaw, she'd make the makeup artist redo everything, taking ages, while the rest of us just had to stand around twiddling our thumbs until she was done.

And when it was time to eat, she always had gourmet meals delivered right to her. Plus, she wouldn't let any of us extras get within 30 feet of her, claiming we were filthy and reeking, and that we'd ruin her appetite.

She'd even post on social media about how tough her job was just because a mosquito bit her, milking it for sympathy. But for us extras, getting hurt and bleeding was just part of the job.

"I believe in standing up for what's right. No way am I bowing down to her, and I'm definitely not apologizing," I said, stubborn as ever.

The assistant director jabbed a finger at me and said, "You're finished."

And just like that, my nightmare began. From then on, the assistant director always gave me the toughest, most miserable jobs.

Bit by bit, I found myself completely ostracized. People started avoiding me like the plague. Nobody wanted to get close, and nobody dared to help.

Another extra even tried to stand up for me, but he got kicked off the set right then and there.

Yesterday, I was so pissed that I stormed up to Cindy. I snapped, "Why drag other people into this? This is between you and me."

Cindy, right in front of me, cradled her precious dog like it was royalty and smirked. She taunted, "Scared now? Go ahead, beg for mercy if you want.

"You were way too loud that day and scared my baby. If you bow to it three times, maybe I'll forgive you."

I was shaking with rage. I shot back, "I'm a human being. No way I'm bowing to a dog. And I sure as hell won't bow to the bitch who owns it!"

My family might not be anything special, but my parents always taught me to hold my head high and never lose my dignity, no matter how powerful the other side was. Some lines just couldn't be crossed.

As I turned to leave, I heard her cold voice behind me.

Cindy sneered, "Fine, Yvonne. Let's see how long you can hold out."

My phone suddenly rang, yanking me out of my memories.

I glanced at the screen: it was my mom calling.

"Mom, what is it?" I said, keeping my tone as normal as possible.

"Yvonne, how have you been lately?" my mom asked.

She sounded hesitant, nothing like her usual self.

Even though I thought it was a little weird, I hurried to answer, trying to sound cheerful, "I'm fine, Mom. I've been filming every day lately, and as long as I'm on set, I get a free boxed lunch, so I'm even saving on food money."

Tears stung my eyes, but I bit them back, refusing to let them fall.

I just didn't want my parents to worry about me.

"That's good to hear. Come home when you get a chance. Some relatives are coming to visit me these days. They heard you want to be an actress and are filming in Dreamport. They want to see you," my mom said.

"Relatives?" I echoed, puzzled.

We were just a poor rural family. My dad had relatives, sure, but my mom had never mentioned them. This was the first I'd heard of any of it.

"Yeah," my mom replied.

She clearly had something on her mind, barely said anything, and hung up before I could get another word in.