Under His Rule ✔

Chapter 11 POV Elsie

The entire morning, the film crew is busy shooting. Because it's going to snow in a few days, Mr. Benjamin wants to finish shooting the scenes of spring and summer before the snowfall.

During this time, Marlon comes to me and tries to strike up a conversation, but apart from filming in front of the camera, I don't exchange any unnecessary pleasantries with him.

Finally, Mr. Benjamin announces the lunch break, and I approach him.

"Taking leave?" Mr. Benjamin's tone is okay, but he doesn't seem pleased. "Elsie, you already took a sick leave last time, and now the progress of the film crew is slow, and the budget is tight. Elsie, look..."

"I'm sorry."

The weather is getting colder, and the wind seems to blow through the gaps in one's bones. I stomp my feet and return to the RV, starting to scroll through my phone.

Perhaps due to Marlon's popularity, the trending topic about us is still on the list.

[Breaking news! Elsie Hannaway and Marlon St. James had a late-night date, the couple I ship came true!]

The weather becomes increasingly gloomy, and a cold rain begins to drizzle outside.

The rain falls harder and harder, dripping on the car windows, making a pattering sound.

I purse my lips, continuing to look at my phone. Marlon sends a message during this time, apologizing.

I stare at the phone screen without emotion, choosing not to reply to his message.

The thing I most want to do in the whole world right now is to clarify everything face-to-face with Vincent.

Actually, the news isn't that serious; it's just a photo of Marlon and me talking at the door, and the pixel quality is pitifully low.

But what truly scares me is the related tweets.

#SweetMomentsBetweenMarlonAndElsieBehindTheScenes#

Upon clicking, I find it to be a video compilation, all of our interactions on set.

The music itself is ambiguous, and with the deliberate editing of mischief-makers, many seemingly normal actions, such as chatting, appear very intimate.

Even the comments section is dominated by fans.

[If this isn't love, what is?]

[I'm going crazy.]

[Handsome man, beautiful woman.]

[Look at the way Marlon looks at Elsie; it's clear they're in! Love!]

"..."

I sneeze, feeling even colder. Due to the rumor, Lucy has also returned in advance.

She holds our lunch boxes, saying there is fish in the cafeteria for lunch.

The fish in the cafeteria here is famous, even better than outside restaurants.

"I'm not hungry," I say.

"Elsie..."

"There's salad in the car; I'll eat that."

Actually, I just want to be alone for a while.

The RV has a small fridge. I open it and take out the salad. It's leftovers from yesterday.

I take a few bites, feeling tasteless, and then set the fork aside and climb onto the bed to rest.

I woke up early today and worked the whole morning. Now with the heater in the RV, I feel a bit sleepy as soon as I lay down.

I don't know how long I slept.

In a daze, I feel someone enter my car. Usually, only Lucy would come into my RV.

I'm too sleepy to open my eyelids, so I turn over and say to the person in the car, "Lucy, call me when it's time to start shooting."

The person doesn't speak.

I continue to lie quietly with my eyes closed.

The heating makes me a bit hot. In a half-awake state, I kick the quilt away with one foot.

However, Lucy pulls the quilt down a bit to cover my feet.

I feel uncomfortable again, but too drowsy to open my eyes, so I can only pull down my collar to breathe.

Then I start dreaming.

In the dream, Vincent kicks open the door, sees Marlon and me in the room, and becomes very angry. He walks over directly, exposing our affair on the spot.

I cry in pain, telling him that there is nothing between me and that man.

Vincent sneers and says, "You cheated. I don't want you anymore."

I immediately collapse, "I didn't."

Vincent replies, "I trust my own eyes more."

I wake up, but not completely. My neck and back are covered in sweat, and my throat feels as dry as if it has been burned.

So, I lie on the bed and say, "Lucy, water."

My water cup is handed over.

I sit up from the bed, look up, and meet the gaze of a man.

He is Vincent.

Alive.

He can talk.

"Elsie..."

Vincent just uttered a word, and I already rush over to hug his arm.

"Mr. Vincent." I almost choke up, probably because I drank water on an empty stomach.

The next second, I can't help but burp. "That news isn't true."

Vincent hears my burp, pauses for a moment, and then bursts into laughter.

"Don't believe those paparazzi, please. "

Seeing him laugh, I'm still flustered. I hold his arm and keep explaining, "I have nothing with Marlon. He wanted to hype with me and then came to see me with food. I didn't let him in, and you can check the surveillance at the hotel..."

I'm very anxious and don't know if my words make sense, just wanting Vincent not to misunderstand me anymore. He holds my hand in return, his voice very gentle, "Your assistant said you didn't eat anything at lunch?"

"Huh?"

"What did you have for lunch?" Vincent asks again.

I point to the salad on the table.

"And breakfast?"

I shake my head.

"Eat first." He says.

Vincent takes out two lunches, and we eat in the RV.

"I really didn't have anything with him."

It's still raining outside, and the sky looks gloomy. Vincent holds my hand, "I believe you."

He opens the lunch box and then hands me the knife and fork. "Eat first."

I pick up the knife and fork, still looking at him.

Vincent: "You don't like these dishes?"

I purse my lips. "Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"I've been testing games at the company all morning. Just finished and wanted to come see you."

"I thought you didn't want me anymore."

After a nap, my hair is full of static, and with a rub against the fabric on my shoulders, it crackles.

Vincent reaches over to help me pat it down and patiently says, "If I don't want you, I'll make it clear and won't make it difficult for you to contact me."

That sentence is enough.

I finally feel relieved, lift my own bowl, take a bite of the steak, and react to something.

I widen my eyes. "You don't want me anymore?"

Vincent doesn't answer. He puts the steak from his lunch box into my bowl and urges softly, "Eat quickly."