Kel didn’t flinch. “She looked at you like she didn’t know you.”
Rubbing her face, Madeline gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe she does,” she said. “Maybe she sees what everyone else sees. That I peaked in a laugh track. That I’m some washed-up punchline who doesn’t know when to leave the party.”
She turned away, back toward the lagoon. The heron was gone. She sighed. “I used to love it. Being on set. Even when the scripts were garbage and the guest stars couldn’t remember their lines. I loved the rhythm. The noise. The crew. Being someone else for a while. Someone funny. Charming. Someone who mattered.” She paused, swallowing against the burn in her throat. “But now? I don’t know what I’m chasing anymore. Respect? Relevance? A second act that doesn’t involve sitcom TV or selling teeth whiteners on Instagram?”
For a beat, neither woman spoke. Then, Kel shook her head. “Maybe it’s not about chasing,” she said finally. “Maybe it’s about remembering why you started.”
Madeline let the words sink in, but they didn’t settle easily. She wanted them to, wanted to believe it was that simple, but the doubt had roots now. Deep ones. “You make it sound easy,” she said, not accusing, simply tired.
“It’s not,” Kel replied. “But it’s possible. That’s why we’re here, right?”
Nodding slowly, Madeline tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. “Right.” She took a long breath. “I’m not going to let one emotionally constipated director ruin this for me.”
“Now you’re talking,” Kel said.
Taking one last glance at the lagoon, Madeline turned on the path. “Come on,” she said. “You said we’re meeting Ms. Leighton soon?”
Kel checked her watch. “Ten minutes. Do you want to stop by the room first?”
Madeline took a deep breath. “No. Let’s go meet the woman behind the curtain.”
Kel walkedwith Madeline along the path to the main house, thinking the whole time about punching Ruthi Shay in the face. Just once. Not hard enough to break anything, Kel wasn’t reckless, but hard enough to wipe that smug expression off her face.Who the hell talks to someone like that?she wondered.Who meets Madeline freaking Whitley and acts like she’s an inconvenience? A speed bump on the way to some self-important artistic epiphany?Her jaw clenched. She had watched Madeline spiral after less. Ruthi’s words had been a grenade lobbed directly at Madeline’s self-worth.And Madelineis still piecing herself back together from the last one Jennie threw.
They reached the front steps of the main house. The building was striking with whitewashed stone, dark wood beams, and open-air balconies. Gauzy curtains billowed, catching the breeze. Kel had Googled it before they came, of course, but there had been almost nothing about it online. Not even a picture of the house in front of her.
At the top of the stairs, a staff member in a sleek cream uniform opened a set of double doors and gestured for them to come in. The cool air inside the house was a relief after the walk. The entryway featured polished teak and high ceilings, the scent of lemon oil lingering in the air.
“This way, Ms. Whitley,” the staff member said, leading them down a hallway lined with art Kel didn’t recognize but appreciated anyway. Everything about the place was elegant. Not a single thing out of place.
They stopped in front of a wide double door with a brass handle shaped like a palm frond. “She’s expecting you,” the staff member said, then disappeared down the hall.
Kel turned to Madeline. “I’ll wait out here.”
“No.” Madeline’s voice was edged with a touch of insecurity. She turned, eyes meeting Kel’s with something close to panic. “Come with me.”
For a beat, Kel hesitated. It wasn’t her meeting. She was the assistant. But Madeline didn’t look like she was ready to do this alone. Kel nodded. “Okay.” She reached for the door and pushed it open. The office was a study in power and restraint. Tall windows let in lots of light. A massive desk sat at the far end, and behind it stood Ms. Leighton.
With all her research, Kel had seen a single picture of the woman. Grainy and low-res, the kind you had to squint at, and it hadn’t captured her presence in the least. She was smallerthan Kel expected, maybe five-three, but she radiated the kind of command that made people straighten their spines without thinking. Her white-blonde hair was swept back in a sleek twist, and her tailored linen suit looked like it cost more than Kel’s car. “Ms. Whitley,” Ms. Leighton said, offering a warm smile. “Welcome to the Isle of Dreams.”
“Thank you for having me,” Madeline said softly.
Ms. Leighton’s gaze shifted to Kel. “And you must be Kel Lehman.”
Kel nodded, surprised. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. I like to know who’s supporting my guests.”
There was a flicker of approval in her eyes. Kel wasn’t sure what she’d done to earn it, but she’d take it. Another presence stirred in the room, and Kel turned to see a tall Black woman standing by the window. She didn’t nod, didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her presence was enough. Dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, she looked like she could disarm a bomb and then host a wine tasting without breaking a sweat.
Holy cow, Kel thought.The two of them together is... intense. Ms. Leighton gestured toward the seating area by the windows, where a low table was set with a carafe of water and two glasses. “Please, sit,” she said. “I won’t keep you long. I know it’s been a long journey.” Kel waited until Madeline moved first, then sat beside her on the edge of the plush couch.
“I wanted to personally welcome you,” Ms. Leighton continued. “And to give you a bit more clarity about the project you’ll be working on while you’re here.”
Madeline leaned forward slightly. “Yes, I’ve been wondering. I know it’s for the Solis Foundation, but I wasn’t given many details.”
“That was intentional,” Ms. Leighton said smoothly. “We find that arriving without expectations allows for more authenticengagement. The commercial will center around the theme of transformation—what it means, how it feels. It’s not a traditional ad. It’s more of a narrative piece, and you’ll be working with a director who understands how to capture emotional truth on film.”
Kel’s stomach twisted. She knew what was coming.
