Left for Dead Came Back for Everything novel Chapter 166

"The ointment patches are in the trunk. Fourteen of them. My sister wrote down the instructions and taped them to the bag."

Eliza took the paper bag and glanced down at it. Attached to the front was a sticky note in Vivian's handwriting: *"Don't push yourself too hard."*

Eliza's lips curved upward as she looked back up at the man standing in front of her.

Julian stood under the streetlight, the crisp autumn evening breeze gently lifting the edge of his trench coat.

"Go on up. It's chilly out, and you shouldn't be standing in the wind," he said.

"Okay. Drive safe, Julian."

Eliza turned around and walked into the lobby.

The heavy door clicked shut behind her, and she leaned her back against the wall.

She squeezed her eyes shut. *No, Eliza. Get a grip.*

You are nearly seventy thousand dollars in debt, and you are in the middle of a messy divorce. You do not have the luxury of falling for him.

But after she walked into her living room, swapped her shoes for slippers, and washed her hands—

She picked up her phone anyway.

She opened her chat with Julian.

She typed out a line, then deleted it. Typed another, deleted it again. She revised it four times before finally hitting send on:

*"Julian, the treatment worked wonders today. My knee feels much lighter than before. Thank you and Vivian so much. I'll make sure to apply the patches on time."*

After sending it, she placed her phone face-down on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Before she could even finish her drink, her phone buzzed.

Julian: *"Good. The herbal prescription always shows the most obvious results the next day. If your knee feels sore tomorrow morning, that's completely normal, so don't worry."*

Three seconds later, another message popped up.

Julian: *"Tomorrow is Monday, your first day on set. Get some rest."*

Another three seconds.

Julian: *"Goodnight."*

Eliza stared at that 'Goodnight' for several seconds.

The forty-something producer was dressed in a sharp navy blazer, her hair pinned up cleanly. She carried a steady, commanding presence, but today, her expression held an unusual severity.

"You're here. You look ready." Jane gave her a quick up-and-down glance before dropping her voice. "Mr. Sherwood is here today."

Eliza paused slightly.

"I need to warn you," Jane said as they started walking. "Sean Sherwood is... ask anyone in the industry, and no one will tell you he's easy to work with. When he reviews footage, he checks it frame by grueling frame. He's made at least four of our video editors cry. They don't call him 'The Frame-Rate Tyrant' for nothing."

Eliza nodded. "I know."

"But he has the track record to back it up. Every single massive blockbuster Starbright has produced in the last few years has been micro-managed to perfection by him. Director Evans has a massive ego and has slammed his hands on the table screaming at him on set countless times, but Sean wins every single argument in the end."

Jane pushed open a door leading to the inner offices of the soundstage.

"So—don't panic, but don't get too comfortable either. Answer exactly what he asks you. Don't try to flatter him, and skip the small talk. The man despises fluff."

The door swung wide open.

Inside was a makeshift conference room. Bare white walls, a massive monitor, and a long table.

Sitting at the very end of that long table was one man.