Chapter 381

Evelyn Sinclair found herself reduced to Lillian Prescott's personal errand girl.

Fetching water.

Running lines.

Even making coffee runs to the nearby café.

Lillian kept her in constant motion, never allowing a moment's respite.

The actress delivered every request with saccharine politeness—always a soft "please" and feigned helplessness. It was a masterclass in manipulation, ensuring no one could accuse her of diva behavior.

The advertising team exchanged impressed glances. Such humility from a rising star! They assumed Evelyn should feel honored to assist a celebrity.

How many ordinary people got this opportunity?

Evelyn saw through the charade but swallowed her anger.

Crossing Lillian wasn't an option. Not when the actress could complain to her powerful adoptive father, Jonathan Prescott. The last thing Evelyn needed was more trouble for Dominic.

Returning with Lillian's latte, Evelyn positioned herself near the director, observing the next take.

"Cut!" Joseph Richter's frustration mounted with each failed attempt. Evelyn stifled a laugh.

Not out of malice.

Lillian's performance was painfully stiff.

She overplayed her femininity, completely overshadowing the perfume they were meant to showcase.

The worse Joseph's mood grew, the more Lillian floundered—a vicious cycle unfolding.

Her Scandinavian co-model maintained professionalism despite the mounting delays, though irritation flickered across his chiseled features.

In Joseph's decades directing films and commercials, he'd never encountered such a lifeless performer. Lillian was all polished exterior with zero substance.

What should've wrapped by lunch dragged into evening. Joseph's schedule was precious—this waste of time infuriated him.

When quiet laughter reached his ears, he whirled toward the sound, ready to unleash his temper.

Then he saw her.

Joseph's breath caught.

The young woman wore modest office attire that contrasted starkly with her arresting gaze and delicate features.

Youthful innocence blended with undeniable allure—the perfect embodiment of indulgent fantasy.

Squinting at her nametag, Joseph turned to the ad manager. "Wer ist das Mädchen? Is she one of your models?" His German was rapid-fire. "She's perfect for this campaign. Let's replace the current lead."

The manager checked Evelyn's tag. "Ms. Sinclair is from design. Ms. Prescott requested her as a temporary assistant. Replacing our contracted model would be... problematic."

Evelyn's university German served her well. She stepped forward smoothly. "Guten Tag, Herr Richter. Evelyn Sinclair from design. Just assisting Ms. Prescott today."

Her accent was flawless—near-native.

Joseph's blue eyes lit up. Repeating her name like a mantra, he smiled. "Ms. Sinclair, you embody the Queen perfume line. Would you consider a screen test?"

The ad manager gaped. Joseph was notoriously selective. Lillian had years of experience—how could this novice possibly meet his standards?

Evelyn hesitated only a heartbeat before declining. "I'm a designer, Herr Richter. No acting experience."

Joseph waved this off. "Nonsense! You're perfect. Just a quick test—if it doesn't work, no harm done." He snapped his fingers. "Susanna! Prep her immediately."

The makeup artist whisked Evelyn away before she could protest further.

Lillian stood frozen, nails digging into her palms.

This was supposed to be her moment.

She'd summoned Evelyn to humiliate her.

Now the nobody designer was stealing her spotlight? Impossible!

When Evelyn reemerged, the set fell silent.

Her dark waves now cascaded in voluptuous curls. The girl-next-door had transformed into a siren.

Yet the transition felt natural—inevitable.

Evelyn stood poised like royalty, every inch the perfume's namesake queen.