Outstanding Talent

As Irene's voice faded, the conference room fell into a sudden, heavy silence.

The executives present collectively drew a sharp breath; it had been a long time since any young person dared to speak to Jerry Nelson in such a manner.

Everyone assumed the director would surely fly into a rage to defend his authority.

However, Nelson merely raised his hand slowly, brought the half-smoked cigarette he had been holding to his lips, took a deep drag, and then crushed it out in the crystal ashtray beside him.

His tone was unusually calm: "We certainly respect the contract. Let's proceed as Miss Coppola wishes."

Irene raised an eyebrow slightly. The man had conceded so easily without continuing to argue.

Two meetings, two completely different attitudes—this Mr. Nelson was truly interesting.

"Since Director Nelson understands my vision, that couldn't be better. Does anyone else have any questions?"

The others looked at each other, their gazes shifting back and forth between Nelson and Irene, until they all shook their heads in unison.

"Very well. One more thing: I suggest that the choreography for Britney's official debut should also remain consistent with the style in the music video. Removing those unnecessary sexual undertones will be more beneficial for shaping her image. What do you all think?"

"Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Coppola," Carl said quickly, fearing she might say something else to make the situation even more awkward.

"Then that's all for today. The music video has been copied for you, so my task is complete. If you need me for anything further, feel free to contact me." With that, Irene picked up her document folder and turned to leave with crisp, efficient movements.

Just as everyone was about to exhale in relief, the door was pushed open again.

Irene poked her head in and blinked: "Almost forgot to ask, can I collect the remaining payment today?"

The conference room fell into an awkward silence once more. Everyone looked at each other, and for a moment, no one answered.

Nelson raised a hand, his tone as steady as before: "Of course. The check has already been prepared at the front desk, waiting for Miss Coppola."

"Thank you, Mr. Nelson. I admire your generosity." Having said that, she left for real this time without looking back.

She left a room full of executives staring at one another.

"What are you still sitting there for? Get back to work." It wasn't until Nelson spoke that the group, as if granted amnesty, tiptoed out of the conference room.

After everyone had left, Nelson's assistant stepped forward to close the window and refill his teacup, asking in a low voice: "Boss, didn't you say you wanted to give her a hard time? Why did you let it go so easily..."

Jerry Nelson picked up the teacup and sniffed; the refreshing fragrance of green tea drifted to his nose. "She made a valid point. If I kept making things difficult, what would it look like if word got out?" He paused and countered: "What do you think of her?"

"Miss Coppola?"

"Don't be ridiculous, who else?"

The assistant recalled his impressions from their two meetings and replied: "Reckless, but also exceptionally talented."

"Even you can see she's exceptionally talented, so do you think I can't?" Nelson chuckled. "So why would I make things difficult for a director whom anyone with eyes can see has a bright future? Not to mention, she has a close relationship with Britney."

He signaled for the assistant to lean in and lowered his voice: "Shelly Ovitz has been trying to secure Britney's management contract lately. Set up a meeting with him in a couple of days and tell him I agree in principle."

"Understood, Boss."

"Not asking why this time?" Nelson joked, a rare occurrence.

"The Boss is always far-sighted," the assistant replied stiffly, clearly missing his superior's humor.

"Fine, go. And don't brew the tea next time; you're wasting all my high-end leaves."

After successfully collecting her payment, Irene saw that it was still early and wandered into a nearby bookstore to see if there were any familiar IP.

On Hollywood's annual film charts, it was either IP adaptations or sequels; original works were few and far between. If she had sufficient funds, she would definitely sign a few potential hits first.

Unfortunately, she was still a "pauper." If it weren't for this recent side job, she would still be asking her mother for pocket money.

Although she could earn an amount that would make her parents proud compared to her peers, it was still a long way from her actual plans.

There was still over a year before she could independently access her trust fund.

Even when she could withdraw it all at once, that money wouldn't be enough to shoot a film. One had to realize that even for a teen comedy, to achieve the quality she had seen in her past life, it would require at least a million-dollar investment.

Furthermore, she needed to leverage the buzz from Britney's debut to give herself a boost. Otherwise, who would buy into a newcomer director?

The film had to be released by the second half of next year at the latest. Counting a three-month production cycle, one month of pre-production, and leaving time for marketing and distribution, there wasn't much time left for her.

Between capital and time, both were massive headaches.

Even if her parents could come up with the money, it was common knowledge in the industry that Hollywood directors never paid for their own films. They had been working here for years and would never support her in doing so.

How could she maximize her interests?

This question swirled in her mind until she returned to her rented apartment, still without a perfect solution.

"Welcome back, Miss. Miss Sophia called; she asked you to return the call as soon as possible." Ophelia handed her an iced drink and passed her the phone at the same time.

Well, she really couldn't get used to a phone that had no entertainment functions other than calling, and she often forgot to carry it. When exactly was the great Jobs going to step up his game!

"Hello, Sis, what's up?"

"Why aren't you carrying your phone again? I can't reach you every day; are you busier than me? Mom and Dad said you're still in Los Angeles and haven't left?" As soon as the call connected, she heard Sophia complaining on the other end.

She quickly explained: "Sis, how could I be busier than you? I found a job recently, so I didn't go traveling. Aren't you preparing for a film? Why are you calling me all of a sudden?"

"I knew you'd forget. Didn't we agree you'd come to watch the auditions? You forgot already?"

At Sophia's mention, Irene remembered that on graduation day, her sister had indeed invited her to observe the auditions. Now that her work had come to a temporary pause, it was the perfect time to go and see for herself.

"My fault, my fault. What day is the audition? Where is it?"

"Actively admitting your mistakes but never changing your ways—that's just how you are." Sophia sighed helplessly, "Nine o'clock the day after tomorrow, West Hollywood. Call me when you arrive, and I'll send someone to pick you up."

"Alright, see you the day after tomorrow, sis."

"Mm."

"Sis, then for the day after tomorrow I should..." Before Irene could finish her sentence, Sophia had already hung up the phone.

She had intended to ask what she needed to prepare, but since the other party hadn't said anything, she assumed she could just go as she was.