That day, Russell wolfed down the whole plate of food and almost teared up.
Of course, my cooking skills were not to be trusted. The next day, he had severe diarrhea and missed an important meeting in London with major investors.
He completely lost it, saying that if it were the Best Actress, she would’ve handled the ingredients properly—because in her series, her on-screen husband ate the dish she made and was totally fine the next day. He sighed, saying, “Man, being the Best Actress’s husband must be a blessing.”
I imitated the Best Actress’s character, whimpering like a wronged little wife, staying silent while he threw dishes around.
By the time Russell smashed his third Limoges porcelain plate, shards flew up and left a few cuts on my face.
He stared at me coldly and said, “Your breathing’s off by two beats! She wouldn’t tremble like you. Even her fear? It has a quiet resilience to it!”
But in that series, the Best Actress played a pathetic housewife working as a chef in her husband’s restaurant, only to find out he was cheating with a young server. She confronted the mistress in front of the customers but got slapped hard by her husband. Heartbroken, she walked alone through the pouring rain and eventually met her true love. That’s how her story began…
Russell was cruel. He slapped me too.
“You’re such an ungrateful woman! Not only are you useless to my career, but you’re also dragging me down!”
Honestly, he should’ve been the one teaching acting classes.
My cheek burned with pain. The next day, when I went for a facial, the beautician asked about the red handprint on the left side of my face. I just laughed it off. “Just some bedroom fun with Mr. Rowlett.”
‘Bullshit!’
Sure, Russell bought me a designer bag worth over 30,000 dollars to make up for it, but I still felt miserable. How much longer do I have to live like this?
My contract was in his hands for a full ten years. Breaking it early meant paying a huge penalty, and the agreement even required me to earn a certain amount every month. I relied on the salary he gave me just to meet the contract’s terms.
“Mrs. Dunst took an emergency leave today, so no one made dinner at home.” That night, I stood humbly at the door, welcoming him back.
Lately, the Best Actress had been playing a career-driven woman who prioritized work over family, so Russell stopped forcing me to cook.
But his temper was just as bad. “Can’t you study her expressions and movements properly? She’s not playing a timid woman anymore. This month’s salary is gone.”
Oh, come on, Russell. You were the one who told me to act like her!
I slapped him—hard. A thunderous slap!
His face hurt. My hand hurt.
I demanded, “What’s your problem? If Mrs. Dunst wasn’t coming today, you should’ve told me earlier! What, you expect both of us to starve now?”
To my surprise, Russell’s expression shifted. He licked the slightly swollen corner of his lip, eyes turning sharp. “Hit me again.”
I froze. No way.
But he insisted, “I said, hit me again! Merylle, show me how much you’re like her! No, you are her!”
Gosh, he was insane!
I raised my hand high as he said…
But I hesitated.
I knew what kind of person Russell was. When he got into character, he really got into it. But once he snapped out of it, he’d settle scores with me.
So I wavered.
“Forget it,” he sneered. “You’ll never be her. Next month’s salary? It’s gone too.”
“What am I supposed to eat next month?”
“I already told you—I’ll cover your basic food and housing.”
“Then… can I sell the bag you bought me for money?”
“That bag was for her. Not for you! You can use it for now. But once she comes back, you’ll return it to her.”
