The Actor's Emperor System

Chapter 2: You Are the Challenger

“What the hell?”

“What was that noise?”

Caleb Davis was completely engrossed, so the sudden, sharp chime—like a video game achievement unlocking—made him physically freeze. It was this weird, digital, totally alien sound, slamming right into the moment.

“Film and Television Martial Emperor System?”

The idea just formed in his brain. Like a pop-up ad he couldn't close.

Helena Madison noticed how instantly rigid he got and looked up, confusion written all over her face.

Caleb Davis saw her questioning look, and his face immediately darkened. He couldn’t deal with the bizarre mechanical voice right now, not when he was this close. He glared at Helena Madison, struck the velvet sofa next to her with a sharp slap, and decided the immediate priority was salvaging his dignity—and reputation—as a man.

---

The Reckoning

Meanwhile, a whole different mess was unfolding clear across the city at the Starlight Capital International Airport.

Brandon Smith—yeah, "Old Smith" to the insiders—was hustling away from the arrivals area, making a frantic dash for the underground parking.

He had tried to disguise himself, wearing the full package: baseball cap low, black shades, and a surgical mask. But seriously, it was the middle of summer. All those layers just screamed, "I'm somebody important trying desperately to hide." It didn’t work.

The paparazzi and reporters, the vultures, had been squatting there for hours. They spotted him immediately, recognizing the clothes he was wearing from the pictures they'd already splashed online two days ago.

A tsunami of media rushed him, screaming and shoving for the best angle.

“Hey! Is that you, Mr. Smith? We’re from Tabloid Entertainment. Can we just get a couple of minutes for an interview?”

“Mr. Smith! Apex Media News here! The buzz online is unbelievable right now—you have to say something!”

“Mr. Smith!”

The noise was deafening. It sounded exactly like the messy, chaotic roar of a fish market on a Saturday morning. Old Smith was instantly furious and absolutely overwhelmed. If he weren't a celebrity, he would've just cussed them all out and told them to disappear.

But he was famous. He had to keep that shred of dignity, damaged as it was.

He had no choice but to clamp down on his inner rage, forcing his voice into a tight, strained whisper: “Sorry, guys, you’ve got the wrong person.”

Did they flinch? Nope. These guys weren't little kids. They weren't falling for that pathetic lie. They kept pressing, aggressive as ever.

It took several minutes for the airport security to hear the chaos and finally rush over. They had to physically drag the frenzy of reporters away, clearing the path.

Old Smith wasted zero time. He shot into the garage, found his car, and peeled out, heading straight for the villa complex.

---

The Return Home

On the drive, Old Smith's mind was pure chaos. He kept running through dozens of explanations, desperately trying to find the perfect script—the one magic phrase—that could convince Helena Madison when they met face-to-face.

He threw out every excuse he could think of. They all felt lame. None would hold up.

He knew Helena Madison better than anyone. She wasn't some naive newcomer. She’d started as a child star, battled her way through the industry for twenty years, and even owned her own production company now. She was a boss, a survivor, a total genius at reading people.

Helena Madison’s willpower was unbreakable. If she decided she didn't believe him, he could argue until his throat was raw, and she still wouldn’t budge.

But if he just showed up and said nothing? That would be the end of everything. That was worse.

“God, this is a monumental headache,” he gritted out, cursing to himself.

Even the smooth talker he usually was felt completely lost. He didn’t know what to do.

Lost in thought, he barely registered when the car slid past the gate and into the exclusive villa district.

This place was next level, one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in the capital, with security tighter than a drum. Unless you owned a place here or had personal, explicit permission from an owner, you weren't getting in.

A small sigh of relief: at least the paparazzi were definitely locked out.

Operating on instinct, Old Smith pulled up to Helena Madison’s villa, parked right out front, and rushed to the door.

He checked the bedroom first. Empty.

Then the living room, the guest areas—she was nowhere.

“That’s odd. Did she go to the company after all?” he muttered, a frown deepening on his face.

He immediately shook his head. No way. The scandal was massive; anyone with half a brain knew you stayed inside. Helena Madison, the ultimate veteran, certainly knew better.

“But if she didn’t go to the office, where in the world is she?”

Frowning hard, Old Smith sent a quick text, but the reply never came.

He started pacing the huge house, checking every room twice.

It wasn't until he walked past the door to the underground entertainment room that his attention snapped.

He thought, maybe, just maybe, he heard the slightest sound coming from inside.

Curiosity overriding panic, Old Smith walked over and twisted the doorknob. The door was locked. Bolted, actually, from the inside.

He was totally confused. Why lock the entertainment room in the middle of a workday?

Meanwhile, on the other side of that heavy, bolted door, Helena Madison was frozen in pure panic.

Only one person could be twisting that knob right now.

She had mentally rehearsed this moment, but the gulf between imagining the dread and hearing him right there was immense.

Brandon Smith kept turning the question over in his head: Why was the door locked?

“Could she be inside?”

“Maybe she just locked herself in there to sulk, or cry it out alone…” That thought felt like a tiny life raft.

He called out, his voice a muffled shout against the wood: “Are you in there? If you’re inside, just answer me. Let’s talk about this face-to-face.”

Hearing his voice, Helena Madison’s heart instantly became a chaotic tangle of fear and fury.

What should I do now?

(End of Chapter)