By 6 PM, filming finally wrapped for the day. Audrey walked out of Silveridge Movie World, flanked by Nora and Miles.
The moment they stepped past the gates, a swarm of reporters ambushed them. Camera flashes exploded like strobe lights, blinding them as microphones were violently shoved into their faces.
"Ms. Sinclair! The man from the photos was Miles Foster, wasn't it?"
"What is the exact nature of your relationship with Mr. Foster?"
"How long have you been seeing each other? Are there wedding bells in the future?"
Audrey recoiled, shielding her eyes. "No comment. Please step back."
The paparazzi ignored her, surging forward like a tidal wave. The crush of bodies nearly shoved Audrey straight into Miles's chest. Miles wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, shielding her with his body as he glared at the mob.
"We are not answering your questions," Miles commanded, his voice dark and authoritative. "Step back immediately. Unless you'd like me to remember your faces and have your press credentials permanently revoked?"
The sheer dominance radiating from him made the front row of reporters hesitate, but the crowd in the back kept pushing.
Thankfully, Nora had slipped away and returned moments later with a team of studio security guards who forcefully cleared a path to the waiting car.
"I'm so sorry," Miles said with a frown once the doors closed. "I should have anticipated the press and brought my own security."
"It's not your fault," Audrey said, catching her breath. "I didn't expect it either."
"Something's off, though," Nora chimed in from the front seat. "That was a massive press pool. You usually only see that for A-list celebrities. Audrey, you're not famous yet, and Mr. Foster keeps a low profile. Why were there so many paparazzi aggressively trying to corner you? It felt orchestrated."
Nora paused, her eyes widening. "Do you think Rainey sent them?"


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