The third time Russell Rowlett shattered a Limoges porcelain plate, the flying shards left several cuts on my face.
He said coldly, “Your breathing is off by two beats! She wouldn’t tremble like you!”
In the basement theater, a Hollywood film starring his first love was playing on a loop.
The Oscar-winning actress, whose features bore a seventy-percent resemblance to mine, had ruthlessly abandoned Russell two years ago. Since then, I have become her substitute.
“Again! Hit me! I told you! Hit me!”
“Mr. Rowlett, I… I wouldn't dare.”
“You’re still not her! Keep practicing! Until your acting is exactly like hers!”
“O-Okay.”
“And no dinner. She’s been on a diet for years. You should be too!”
A one-to-one replica. Bernadette Deschanel lived in dazzling brilliance while I existed in the shadows, as insignificant as an ant.
——
Russell hired a new acting coach for me—one-on/one private lessons, at an exorbitant price. But I knew the real reason—because that woman was using the same coach. Technically, it was a one-on-two.
“Between me and her, who’s the better actress?” I asked.
The coach hesitated. “Miss Tytler, you’ve never had a public film or television appearance, so it’s hard to compare.”
Right. I, Merylle Tytler, had only ever performed for one audience—Russell.
Russell—the billionaire CEO. Ever since the actress dumped him, his ego had been deeply wounded, and he’d grown more and more twisted.
Two years ago, he announced plans for a major international film and held auditions in over a dozen states. Out of tens of thousands, I was the one he chose.
I thought I was about to go from rags to riches, but instead of starring in a film, I became his well-kept canary in a gilded cage.
Being pampered in captivity would’ve been one thing, but God knows what kind of hell I was actually living!
Two years by his side, acting every single day. My skills had improved so much I could probably win an award.
Whenever the actress starred in a new film, Russell would make me reenact her performance at home. If I didn’t do it well, there would be consequences. I was nothing more than his hopeless, pathetic stand-in.
And that actress was a career-obsessed workaholic! She was already getting older, yet she still kept filming one project after another. Hadn’t she made enough money? Couldn’t she just settle down with her billionaire CEO?
To make things worse, the film industry had been struggling this year, so she switched to starring in web series.
If it were a film, it’d be just about two or three hours long, and her screentime would be at most a third of that. I could still squeeze in a manicure or skincare session while memorizing her scenes.
But web series? They ran for six to 13 episodes per season! Just studying her latest role had already consumed all my free time!
Thinking about that now, I hadn’t stepped outside in ages!
No matter how busy Russell was, he always came home for dinner. People said he couldn’t bear to be apart from me, but I knew the truth—he just enjoyed tormenting me.
Bernadette's latest role was a housewife who displayed exceptional cooking skills in the series. So, of course, he demanded that I cook just as well.
But I couldn’t cook! And it wasn’t just any cooking—it had to be top-tier Italian cuisine!
I protested, “The food in the series was fake! She didn’t actually cook it!”
But he wasn’t having it. That very night, he hired a Michelin-starred chef from Italy to train me!
I pulled three all-nighters and finally managed to create a meticulously plated molecular gastronomy dish featuring raw beef. It no longer even looked like beef—after all, the essence of molecular cuisine was breaking everything down to the molecular level.
“Perfect. This is the exact taste!”
Internally, I was beyond speechless. ‘You’ve never even tasted it! How the hell do you know it’s the exact taste?!’
