Chapter 30
The internet did, in fact, lose its mind.
Within minutes, Leo Fontaine's surprise appearance at Nance University was trending across social media.
The livestream audience kept climbing.
Backstage, the students who hadn't gone on yet were barely holding themselves together.
"I can't believe that's actually Leo Fontaine. I've watched his movies for years, but seeing him in person is insane."
"I need to do well tonight. He produces movies now too. If he notices me, my career could literally change overnight."
"Stop saying that. I'm already nervous. My mind is completely blank."
"I'm so jealous of Chloe. She actually got to shake his hand."
"Should I go say hi too?"
"Are you crazy? Chloe's worked with him before. We're nobodies."
Everyone was buzzing.
Everyone except Emma.
She was sitting in a corner—
playing a game on her phone.
One of the girls stared at her for a while before finally walking over.
"Emma."
"Hmm?"
"Aren't you nervous? There are professors out there. And Leo Fontaine is literally sitting in the front row."
Emma's thumbs flew across the screen.
"I'm extremely nervous."
The girl blinked.
"Really?"
"This guy's been chasing me across the entire map for the last thirty seconds. I almost died."
"......"
The girl stared at her.
Then shook her head.
"You've seriously given up, haven't you? You're not even planning to work in entertainment anymore."
Emma didn't answer.
She was busy surviving.
A few minutes later, the match finally ended in victory.
Emma put down her phone and glanced at the monitor showing the stage.
Then she frowned.
They still hadn't reached her scene.
That didn't make sense.
She'd timed it almost perfectly.
One match took about fifteen minutes. By the time she finished, they should've been close to her entrance.
Instead, Chloe and the male lead were still performing their first major scene together.
Emma watched for another moment.
Then she understood.
Chloe kept stopping the scene.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Apparently, she wasn't satisfied with the male lead's performance.
Finally, Chloe stopped in the middle of the stage and turned toward the front row.
"Mr. Fontaine?"
Leo looked up.
Chloe smiled.
"Would you mind coming up and showing him how this scene should be played?"
She gestured toward her scene partner.
"I keep feeling like his emotions aren't quite right."
The livestream comments immediately started flying.
Leo had been sitting quietly through most of the rehearsal.
If he was being completely honest—
he was bored.
His eyes had been on the stage, but his attention hadn't always followed.
At Chloe's request, one dark eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Is that so?"
Chloe nodded.
Leo looked at her for a moment.
Then said calmly,
"Have you considered that your emotion might be the problem?"
Chloe:
"......"
Professor Evelyn frowned.
Chloe's intentions were becoming far too obvious.
Leo had been invited to offer guidance.
No one had asked him to personally perform opposite the students.
If he chose to demonstrate something, that was his decision.
Trying to maneuver him onto the stage in front of a livestream was another matter entirely.
"Just continue the scene," Professor Evelyn said.
Her tone had noticeably cooled.
Chloe's face stiffened.
She hadn't expected Leo to reject her so directly.
The livestream, meanwhile, showed no mercy.
Chloe had no choice but to continue.
Her scene partner wasn't particularly happy either.
After being publicly blamed for their repeated takes, his performance became noticeably more restrained.
Leo continued watching.
This time, he interrupted several times.
Not often.
Just enough.
A comment about pacing.
A correction to someone's eyeline.
A reminder that anger didn't always need to be loud.
Each note was brief.
Precise.
And immediately useful.
Whatever else could be said about Leo Fontaine, his reputation as an actor wasn't exaggerated.
Even a few sentences from him were enough to make the students reconsider how they approached their scenes.
Chloe, however, absorbed considerably less than everyone else.
She was still thinking about being rejected in front of the entire livestream.
Then—
it was Emma's turn.
The stage went dark.
When the lights came back up, the set had changed.
A royal bedchamber.
Rich fabrics.
Candlelight.
Dark red curtains.
And at the center of it all—
Princess Vivienne.
Emma lounged across a chaise in a flowing crimson costume.
Her long hair had been loosely pinned up, with a deep red rose tucked between the dark strands.
Her feet were bare.
A delicate chain circled one ankle, tiny bells attached to it.
Every slight movement made them chime.
Soft.
Bright.
Almost playful.
Nothing about her resembled the poised, dignified princess one might expect from a royal court.
She looked beautiful.
Dangerously so.
Emma slowly lifted her lashes.
Her gaze drifted across the stage.
Lazy.
Amused.
And just slightly wrong.
Beautiful—
and completely unhinged.
For the first time that evening, Leo's wandering attention sharpened.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Emma?
The livestream exploded.
Two guards dragged the captive prince onto the stage.
His wrists were bound.
Princess Vivienne barely looked at him.
"Untie him."
The guards obeyed.
The prince immediately turned toward her with undisguised disgust.
Vivienne was the king's favorite daughter.
Beautiful.
Spoiled.
Feared.
She had grown up believing that anything she wanted could become hers.
People included.
The prince's contempt didn't anger her.
If anything—
it amused her.
Vivienne rested her head lazily against one hand.
Then curled one finger toward him.
"Come here."
The prince didn't move.
Her smile deepened.
He had no choice.
He was a political hostage in an enemy kingdom.
One word from her could decide whether he lived long enough to see tomorrow.
His jaw tightened.
Slowly, unwillingly, he walked toward her.
"Closer."
He stopped.
Vivienne studied him.
Then smiled.
"Kneel."
Her voice was soft.
Almost pleasant.
Yet something in it changed the atmosphere of the entire auditorium.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
This wasn't someone trying to sound powerful.
Princess Vivienne had been born into power.
Obedience wasn't something she requested.
It was something she expected.
The prince's jaw tightened.
Whatever he'd been drugged with before being brought to her chambers was beginning to take effect.
His breathing had grown uneven, and the strength was slowly draining from his body.
Still, he refused to kneel.
In the front row, Leo had gone completely still.
It was just a line.
A performance.
He knew that.
And yet something about the way she'd said it sent an unexpected jolt through him.
His fingers tightened slightly against the armrest.
Leo's jaw tensed.
What the hell was that?
Onstage, the prince still hadn't moved.
Vivienne rose.
Bare feet touched the floor.
She took one step.
Then another.
The tiny bells around her ankle rang softly through the silent auditorium.
For some reason, Leo heard every single one.
Vivienne stopped directly in front of the prince.
Her gaze traveled slowly over him.
Not with affection.
Not even desire.
With possession.
As though she were deciding whether something in front of her was worth keeping.
Her lips curved.
"You won't kneel?"
The question was almost lazy.
There was no threat in her voice.
That somehow made it worse.
The prince's breathing grew heavier.
Whatever drug was in his system had weakened his legs.
His pride held out for another second.
Then—
He dropped to his knees.
His face flushed with humiliation.
"You're shameless."
Vivienne looked down at him.
For a second, she smiled.
Then the smile vanished.
Without warning, she shoved him backward with her foot.
He hit the floor.
Vivienne stepped forward and planted one bare foot against his upper chest, forcing him down.
Her expression turned glacial.
"Who do you think you are?"
Her voice was quiet.
"You stand in my palace, breathe because I allow it, and still think you have the right to raise your voice at me?"
The prince struggled beneath her.
Vivienne slowly increased the pressure.
Then she smiled again.
Beautiful.
Radiant.
Terrifying.
"If I choose to play with you..."
She tilted her head.
"You should consider yourself fortunate."
In the front row, something dark flickered through Leo's eyes.
His gaze dropped to the actor beneath Emma's foot.
And for one strange, irrational second—
a thought crossed his mind.
Why does he get to be the one down there?
Leo froze.
His expression didn't change.
But his fingers tightened again.
Where the hell had that come from?
Onstage, Vivienne seemed almost delighted by the prince's fury.
Then she stepped back.
"Take off his coat."
She turned lazily toward one of the guards.
"And bring me my riding crop."
The livestream detonated.
Professor Evelyn stared at the stage.
She had always known Emma had talent.
There was something instinctive about the way she performed—something difficult to teach.
What Emma lacked were the things talent alone couldn't guarantee.
Connections.
Resources.
Someone willing to open the right door.
Watching her now, Professor Evelyn found herself reconsidering something.
Maybe Emma simply needed someone to open one.
She leaned slightly toward Leo.
"What do you think?"
Leo didn't answer immediately.
His throat moved as he swallowed.
His eyes remained fixed on the stage.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Emma did well."
His voice was lower than before.
Professor Evelyn glanced at him.
Leo Fontaine was still staring at the stage.