The silence was a creature of its own—wide-eyed, fanged, and still. It sprawled over the studio like a suffocating velvet sheet.
Darius didn't move. Not a blink, not a breath. Mira's face was crimson—half fury, half horror. Her lip curled like she was about to spit something, but her voice betrayed her, locked behind clenched teeth and panic.
Only the camera blinked. Red light, still rolling. Still catching every frame of their disgrace.
And then—
Clatter.
Someone in the back—a nervous assistant, probably—knocked over a water bottle. It rolled off the table and hit the floor with a loud thunk, splashing across the tiles.
Camille didn't say a word. Just rested her elbow on the table, chin propped on her hand. She watched the chaos with a smile that showed teeth. Predatory. Elegant. Quietly delighted.
"Showstopper," she murmured, just for me.
The director shouted, "Cut!" and the silence shattered completely.
