[GodOfReader: Does anyone here have a ChatGPT plus that are willing to borrow it to me? I just got hacked of my 1 year ChatGPT plus account by a fucking indian, Don't ask me how and why. i'm pissed off right now that i'll only update 1 Chapter for 3 days.]
"Hey, Charles, can you grab the costumes from the room?"
"Charles, help move the camera equipment."
"Charles, let's set up the track together."
Charles had been working with the Mean Girls crew for two months now.
Thanks to his hardworking attitude, he had earned quite a bit of praise.
Once the props were moved, the filming began, and Charles finally got a moment to rest.
He sat absentmindedly on a prop box, watching Wentworth Miller act alongside Lindsay Lohan and Rachel McAdams.
His gaze then shifted to a young girl nearby, engrossed in her script.
Lindsay Lohan always had bodyguards around her—not an easy target.
Rachel McAdams seemed to enjoy sticking close to Lindsay Lohan, also making her difficult to approach.
But this girl, Amanda Seyfried, was always alone.
Amanda, who was studying her lines, suddenly felt a chill down her spine. She looked up and glanced around but found nothing unusual.
Then her eyes fell on Lindsay Lohan, her face showing a hint of envy.
If only she had known Martin since childhood, like Lindsay Lohan.
Born in December 1985, Amanda Seyfried had started her career as a child model at the age of 11—not out of financial necessity but more as a hobby.
She came from a well-off middle-class family, unlike many child stars who struggled financially or had unstable home lives. Her parents' relationship was solid.
For her, modeling and acting were more like extracurricular activities, a form of social engagement.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have retired from Hollywood at 38, sold her $20 million Manhattan apartment, and moved to the Catskills to become a farm owner.
At this early stage of her Hollywood career, Amanda was still adjusting to the industry's chaos and constant harassment.
She had worked on several sets, but the Mean Girls production felt the most peaceful, with the least drama.
She knew why—because the project's investor was Martin, and the lead actress was his childhood friend. No one dared stir trouble on this set.
She could understand why Rachel McAdams made an effort to cozy up to Lindsay Lohan.
Wasn't it just to get closer to Martin?
Amanda also wanted to meet Martin, but she wasn't the type to fawn over people like Rachel.
She turned back to her script, but then she noticed a crew member sitting on a prop box, staring at her.
The moment she met his gaze, he smiled briefly and then looked away.
Amanda vaguely recalled his name—Charles Gaglio. A diligent worker with a good reputation on set.
She didn't think much of it and continued reading her script.
At the assistant director's shout, cheers erupted. Some people packed up, others made plans for drinks—small groups forming to discuss their evening plans.
Amanda, not very social, prepared to return to her hotel alone.
As she waited for a cab by the roadside, a voice came from behind.
She turned and saw Charles, the crew hand, smiling at her.
Charles had a handsome yet unassuming face, somewhat resembling Tom Hanks—giving off an honest and trustworthy vibe.
Amanda didn't find him unpleasant and casually replied, "Yeah, heading back to the hotel."
Charles' eyes flickered slightly, seemingly pleased with her response.
Then, cautiously, he asked, "Want to grab a coffee together?"
Amanda glanced at him in surprise before shaking her head. "No thanks, I'm a bit tired. Just want to rest."
Just then, her cab arrived. She got in and waved at Charles. "Goodbye, Charles!"
Charles found himself increasingly intrigued by this solitary woman.
"She's not like that bitch, Ashley Erling. Maybe I should give her a chance?"
Shaking his head, he quickly got into his second-hand car and started following the cab ahead.
The taxi pulled up at a mid-range chain hotel. Amanda got out and entered the lobby.
Charles parked by the curb, glanced around, then casually strolled into the hotel.
Security at chain hotels wasn't particularly strict.
He discreetly followed Amanda to the elevator but didn't enter with her. Instead, he watched as she selected her floor.
Taking the stairs, Charles ascended, peeking through the stairwell door. The hallway had no security cameras.
A relaxed smile spread across his face.
He then headed to the front desk.
"Hello, I'd like to book a room on the fourth floor."
"One moment, sir. Let me check... We have four available rooms on the fourth floor—three facing north and one facing south. Do you have a preference?"
"Direction doesn't matter. I just prefer a quiet room. Ideally, the rooms on either side of mine would be empty or occupied by single guests. You know, I hate those... squeaky noises at night."
The receptionist chuckled. Glancing at him, she replied, "Let me see... There aren't any completely isolated rooms available. Room 404 is next to an elderly couple—should be quiet. Room 409 has guests on both sides, all single men, though one often brings women over... Oh! Room 411 might suit you. Only one side is occupied, by a single woman."
"Really? Not... a woman of a certain profession, I hope? That would be a dealbreaker."
"Of course not. She's a very pretty girl. Always alone."
"Then I'll take 411."
After washing up, Amanda lay in bed reading for a while until sleepiness took over.
She checked the time—10:30 PM.
Turning off the lights, she drifted into slumber.
The glow of streetlights cast a faint orange hue against the curtains.
Suddenly, a shadow flickered across the light.
A moment later, the handle of the balcony door began to turn slowly.
A figure slipped inside.