Henrietta called Charlotte as soon as she got to her room.
Charlotte answered immediately. “So, did you do it? Are you a married woman?”
“I am,” Henrietta confirmed.
A shriek of excitement came from the other end of the line. Before Charlotte could start asking questions, Henrietta cut in, “How’s Matteo? Was he hurt?”
“Not at all,” Charlotte replied. “Joaquin’s men took him away for a bit, but he came back on his own. He’s filming right now.”
“Charlotte, I want you to change the script. Add more kissing scenes and intimate moments. Make them steamy and suggestive.”
Charlotte’s voice held a hint of a smirk. “Consider it done.”
Henrietta sat on the edge of her bed. “I want real kisses, passionate ones. And no body doubles or clever camera angles for the intimate scenes.”
“Understood,” Charlotte said, her grin audible.
As Henrietta was about to hang up, Charlotte asked, “By the way, do you know why Joaquin went looking for Matteo?”
Henrietta took a deep breath and quickly recounted the events of the afternoon.
Charlotte’s voice was tight with anger. “That bastard! Henrietta, are you just going to let that scumbag and his accomplice get away with this? Should we expose them right now and ruin them?”
But Henrietta was calm. “Not yet. They’re just lies. We stick to the plan. First, we lift him to the very top. Let him think he’s made it, that he’s a success. Let him bask in the glory and fame, and then…”
A rare, sharp edge of ruthlessness entered her cool voice. “Then we’ll drag him down to hell. We’ll strip him of everything, crush him completely, and make sure he rots in prison. Fatten him up for the slaughter. That’s the only way to satisfy the hatred I feel. Anything less would be letting him off too easy.”


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