Chapter 793

The post set the internet entirely ablaze. Penelope's newly formed PR team handled the fallout masterfully, pivoting the conversation from overwhelming criticism to overwhelming support and completely shifting the public narrative.

To their surprise, the controversy didn't linger for long. It went from internet-breaking news to complete silence in a matter of two or three days.

Someone had clearly pulled strings behind the scenes. Natalie guessed it was Hamilton, and Penelope agreed.

But in the days that followed, there wasn't a single move from Hamilton's camp, leaving Natalie with a creeping sense of unease.

The crew relocated to a private estate for a two-week shoot. The schedule was brutally tight, leaving no room for delays.

After wrapping up for the day, Benson Cooper announced a mandatory crew dinner.

Natalie had powered through a heavy block of scenes and just wanted to head back to the hotel to rest, but Benson insisted no one could skip it.

"The owner of the estate is hosting. He let us use this place without charging a dime for rent, and now he's treating us to dinner. It'd be completely disrespectful to refuse."

Put that way, Natalie had no choice but to agree.

The dinner was set up on the estate's sprawling lawn. Given the size of the crew, the owner had brought in restaurant chefs to cater a massive buffet.

Natalie found a seat at a corner table. She needed to maintain her figure and preferred not to eat at night, but after a full day of filming, she was starving. Annabelle, completely oblivious, was devouring a massive plate of BBQ ribs right across from her.

"Mmm, so good! This is way better than the ones at the steakhouse."

Natalie took a sip of her water. "Don't eat too much. You won't be able to sleep."

"It's fine, I have an iron stomach." Annabelle stuffed a huge bite of meat into her mouth, her eyes narrowing in

sheer bliss. The owner of this estate must be such a great guy, not to mention super generous. Wait, didn't the director say he was coming? Where is he?"

Annabelle craned her neck, scanning the crowd. Finally, she spotted a figure near the entrance.

"Wow, he's gorgeous. But... why does he look so familiar?"

Following Annabelle's gaze, Natalie spotted the man stepping out of a sleek car. Her brow instantly furrowed.

Hamilton. It was him.

Benson had already rushed over to greet him. The two shook hands and conversed as they walked toward the center tables. Immediately, the producers and several assistant directors swarmed around them.

Ever since she announced her marriage to Marico, Hamilton had been suspiciously quiet. But she knew he wouldn't just let it go. And here he was—she had been right all along.

"Natalie, the director wants you to join their table for a bit," an assistant director called out as he jogged over.

Taking a deep breath, Natalie stood up and followed him.

As she approached, Benson quickly offered her the seat beside him, leaning in to whisper, "I swear I had no idea he owned this place. If I knew, we'd never have shot here."

If any other director had said that, she might have doubted them. But coming from Benson, she believed it. This entire production had been, built around her, making her and Benson absolute allies in this venture.

Kon

"We're already six days in. If we piss him off now and he kicks us out, the financial

hit will be massive."

Natalie nodded softly. "I understand."

She glanced at Hamilton. He was swirling the wine in his glass with an unreadable expression, as if patiently waiting for her to break first and beg.