Chapter 568

Until the wee hours of six in the morning, the noise outside ceased, and Aubree must have finally settled down for some rest.

Brielle let out a sigh of relief, rubbing her weary eyes, planning to catch another half hour of sleep on the bed.

Awakening to the aroma of breakfast, she opened the door to find Aubree, apron–clad, setting the last dish on the table from the kitchen.

There were still faint traces of redness around her eyes, likely concealed with foundation. Her emotions, her entire sense of loss and pain, also seemed to be masked beneath that foundation. This act of keeping up appearances was a tactic Aubree often employed.

So, Brielle chose not to mention last night’s ordeal but instead asked, “You’re not working today?”

Aubree untied the apron from her waist, grabbed a bowl, and ladled some soup for Brielle.

“Got the axe three days ago, but I’ve saved enough over the years to get by. It’s just that without a Job, I feel kind of useless.”

She had always revolved her life around Andrew that even her work hadn’t amounted to much. To please Andrew, Aubree had mastered the art of cooking and never expected that, in the end, she’d be cooking for Tessa. The mere thought made her heart ache.

She had received a text from Max and knew that Brielle had been swamped lately, so she hurriedly pushed the conversation forward. “I heard Michael’s giving you a tough time, making you run an entertainment company?”

“Yeah.”

“Brl, do you think I have what it takes to be a celebrity?”

Brielle, about to sip her soup, paused at the question.

Objectively, Aubree’s looks could easily place her in the top ten among the beauties of Beaconsfield.

She had a striking presence that would dominate any photo she was in.

Brielle pondered. She was now at the helm of an entertainment company, and Aubree was jobless. If Aubree broke into showbiz and made a name for herself, with the demanding schedule of a movie star and months spent on set, she’d naturally spend less time on Andrew.

Without something to occupy her, Aubree would inevitably dwell on Andrew.

Brielle felt this might be the best thing she could do for Aubree. So she nodded, “Sure, send your resume over to Stellar Stage Entertainment. I’ll have you train with the new batch of actors. You’ll get coaching on expression and fitness management. The company’s undergoing some reforms, and I’m pretty tied up at the moment. Are you sure you want to take this on?”

11.07 “Absolutely! Who wouldn’t love to be famous? Plus, I want to be your cash cow. If the company makes money, Michael will be over the moon.”

Brielle’s lips curved into a smile, returning to her soup.

Aubree’s cooking was impressive. Brielle knew who she had honed her skills for and refrained from complimenting her to avoid bringing up Andrew again.

After the meal, Brielle announced she was heading to the office. Once Aubree was alone, her smile faded, and she quietly moved to the kitchen to bake a birthday cake in solitude.

As Brielle got into her car, she sent Max a message.

(Still in a meeting?]

[Yep.]

Max replied promptly as if he had been waiting for her to reach out. She smiled again, but she didn’t respond further, focusing on driving instead.

Once she arrived at the company and settled into her office, she was bombarded with an unending stream of tasks. She was so engrossed that messaging Max slipped her mind as she dealt with a dozen pressing emails..

Come noon, Keagan walked in.

“Ms. Haywood, HR has already handed out termination letters to those on their way out. Have you reviewed the contracts for the artists? Who’s worth keeping?”

“Any of them willing to stay on their own accord?”

Keagan shook his head, a hint of mockery in his eyes. Those folks had been itching for a release from Stellar Stage Entertainment, and now, with the chance to break free, they’d likely run faster than rabbits. Why would they choose to stay?

There were some promising talents among them. If Brielle let them go, the company would suffer a significant loss.

With the company struggling to secure resources due to financial deficits, there was no money to invest in scripts or connections to negotiate with directors. The morning had passed, and the company hadn’t secured a single screenplay.

Rubbing her temples, Brielle’s voice was calm but firm. “Bring in a few professional acting coaches to see who’s got talent. Offer a generous contract to the gifted ones. Promise them a bigger cut of their earnings. As for the rest, we can provide severance if they want to leave.”

“Ms. Haywood, you might not know, but there’s hardly any money left in finance. I do have a suggestion, however. Why not sell those artists in bulk to other companies? Several of them are quite talented, and other companies have been eyeing them for a while. We could make a good sum off each.”