Chapter 4
The jarring ringtone dragged me from my drowsiness. I squinted at the time—10 AM. Damn, I'd actually slept for seven whole hours, which was nothing short of a miracle given my recent insomnia.
"Scarlett? Thank God you picked up!" Amy's voice bubbled with barely contained excitement. "Can you get out right now?"
I sat up, my head still foggy. "What's going on?"
"Harper's Bazaar!" She was practically screaming. "Their makeup artist called in sick, the cover shoot is this afternoon, and they need someone immediately! The pay is triple the usual rate!"
I nearly dropped my phone. Harper's Bazaar? The bible of fashion? How could someone like me, who just did grunt work on low-budget productions, possibly...
"Amy, are you sure they want me? There hasn't been some mistake?"
"Don't ask so many questions!" she said urgently. "The studio is in Beverly Hills. I'm sending you the address—you need to be there within an hour! Miss this chance and there won't be another!"
After hanging up, I sat dazed on my bed. Triple pay meant this month's rent was covered, maybe even enough to buy some decent makeup. What I was using now was the cheapest concealer from the supermarket—it barely covered my scars, and every time I looked in the mirror, I wanted to cry.
But I couldn't afford to be picky, especially not for Harper's Bazaar!
Forty minutes later, I was driving my potentially dying second-hand car, nervously making my way into the luxury district of Beverly Hills. A single house here cost more than my annual income, yet here I was about to work for a top-tier magazine.
The studio was even more professional than I'd imagined. Soaring ceilings, professional ring lighting, the latest photography equipment—even the floor was made of special anti-reflective material. Everything reminded me just how vast the gap was between this place and the shabby sets I usually worked on.
"You must be Ms. Kingsley?" An assistant in a black Armani suit approached. "The model is waiting for you in makeup. Today's theme is 'Angel and Devil' dual makeup effects."
I nodded and followed her to the makeup room. Professional vanity tables, expensive brand cosmetics, perfect lighting setup—this was the work environment I'd always dreamed of. Behind my mask, I took a deep breath and began setting up my tools.
"Make it perfect today," I told myself. "This might be my only chance to prove myself."
The model was a blonde, blue-eyed girl who was very cooperative. I threw myself completely into the work, creating pure angel makeup on her left side and seductive devil styling on her right. Every stroke was meticulously crafted—this was my specialty, dual-face makeup technique.
"The effect is amazing!" the girl marveled at her reflection. "I've never seen such creative makeup!"
I was adding the final details, completely focused on adjusting the eye shadow effects. Footsteps and staff conversations drifted in from outside the makeup room—someone was discussing shooting angles.
"The photographer's here," an assistant announced at the door.
I didn't look up, continuing to concentrate on my work. Whoever the photographer was didn't matter to me—I just needed to make the makeup perfect.
"How's the preparation going?" A deep male voice came from the doorway.
That voice...
My hand suddenly trembled, nearly brushing mascara onto the model's eyelid.
That voice... the voice I'd heard countless times in my dreams...
"Scarlett?"
I slowly turned around and saw those deep blue eyes. The small mole at the corner of his eye, that focused expression, and that special tenderness when he looked at me—just like ten years ago in art class.
It was Liam.
"It really is you..." His voice carried shock and incredulous joy. "I thought I was mistaken."
My legs went weak instantly. If I hadn't been gripping the vanity table, I definitely would have collapsed. I tried to appear composed, but my voice still trembled: "Liam... long time no see..."
He stepped closer, and I could smell his familiar, clean scent. He was taller and more handsome than in high school, the black photography vest making him look professional and charming.
"You look good," he said softly. "How have these years been?"
I tried not to think about those couple photos I'd seen last night, tried to act nonchalant: "Not... not bad. You're very successful now."
"Just work," he waved dismissively, then looked at the makeup I'd just finished. "Your technique is even better than before. Remember in high school when you said you wanted to learn makeup?"
My heart pounded like a drum. He still remembered what I'd said?
"Mr. Parker, we should start shooting," the assistant reminded him.
"Just a moment more." He didn't shift his gaze. "Scarlett, could we talk privately for a few minutes?"
I nodded and followed him to a corner of the makeup room, my heart fluttering like a thousand butterflies. We stood very close—close enough for me to see every glimmer of light in his eyes.
"I never expected to run into you here," he said softly. "Are you specializing in special effects makeup now?"
"Yeah... freelance work." I nodded, trying to stay composed. "Your photography career is going really well. Working with those... international supermodels must be interesting."
There was a hint of sourness in my words that even I could hear.
He keenly caught the subtle tone and his expression immediately softened: "Scarlett, did you see some reports?"
My face flushed instantly—this meant he knew I'd been following him.
"Don't misunderstand," he lowered his voice. "Anastasia and I are just work colleagues. The media always likes to speculate."
My world turned upside down in an instant. "Work colleagues?"
"Yes, purely professional." He looked at me seriously. "I've been wanting to find you, to ask how you've been."
I felt like I was about to faint. He said he'd been looking for me? Those couple photos, those sweet interactions—all just work? Not what I thought?
"I..." I wanted to say something, but my mind went blank.
"This is my personal card." He pulled out a simple black business card from his pocket. "If you're willing, we could have a proper chat."
I took the card with trembling fingers. It had only his name and a phone number, no unnecessary decorations.
"I need to go shoot now," he said gently. "But Scarlett... I'm really happy to see you again."
Watching his retreating figure, I stood there in a daze. The card in my hand felt hot as fire, my heart beating so fast it seemed ready to burst from my chest.
For the next two hours, I completed the remaining work like a zombie. The shoot went smoothly, but I couldn't concentrate at all—my mind was full of our recent conversation.
After the shoot ended, I stood alone in the bathroom, staring blankly at my reflection. Everything that had just happened felt as unreal as a dream. He said he'd been looking for me... he said he and Anastasia were just work colleagues...
I took out the card to confirm again—it really did have his private number. But should I call him? The gap between us was still so vast. I was still that girl with scars on her face, while he...
With trembling hands, I carefully tucked the card into the deepest part of my wallet, just as carefully as I'd treasured that graduation photo ten years ago.
Driving home, I replayed every word Liam had said, his expressions, his smile. My heartbeat never calmed down.
Waiting at a red light, I couldn't help but pull out my wallet and look at that black card again. The simple font, the familiar name, and those digits that might change my life.
"Maybe... maybe I was really wrong?"
But reason quickly took over. Even if he and Anastasia weren't lovers, even if he really remembered me, the gap between us still existed. He lived in mansions, I lived in a broken-down apartment; he worked for international top magazines, I could only get gigs on third-rate productions.
More importantly... I touched the scar beneath my mask.
Back home, I carefully placed the card on my nightstand like it was some precious treasure. My phone lay quietly beside it, screen dark, as if waiting for something.
Should I call him?