Chapter 466

Freya dramatically rolled her eyes. "No title or position can stop me from loving Odalys," she declared, wrapping her arms tightly around Odalys.

Selah, not to be outdone, immediately chimed in, "No way, Odalys is mine!" She locked her arms around Odalys's other side.

The two women held on tight, then simultaneously leaned their heads in to plant loud, cheeky kisses on Odalys's face. Odalys, frozen, looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"I feel like I've just been defiled," Odalys muttered.

Before she could continue, Selah and Freya slapped their hands over her mouth. "Shh," they whispered in unison, making a finger-to-lips gesture.

Odalys burst into laughter, amused by their antics. She swatted at their hands, trying to regain her composure. "Stop sitting so close," she warned. "You'll start rumors and ruin my reputation!"

Freya dramatically sighed, pretending to be hurt. "Oh, I'm being rejected," she said, but immediately stood up and moved away.

"Come on, everyone, gather around! Today, Odalys is treating us all to afternoon coffee!" Freya called out, her infectious enthusiasm evident. Selah quickly joined her.

The director, producer, martial arts director, and screenwriters, hearing Odalys's name, rushed over. They were still holding their takeout meals, looking a bit disheveled, but their eagerness overshadowed their appearance.

Seeing Odalys, smoothie in hand, they immediately gathered around, hoping to bask in her good fortune.

"Odalys, after your ritual last time, I haven't had a nightmare since," Kenny said gratefully, his voice filled with relief.

The director quickly grabbed a coffee and drank two gulps. "I know, right! Ever since that ritual, there haven't been any strange happenings at Film Capital, and I haven't had a headache in days!"

Everyone was in high spirits, except for the producer, who kept looking at Odalys with an unreadable expression, hesitant to speak.

"Odalys, could we have a word in private?" he finally asked, putting down his lunchbox, his appetite clearly gone. He picked up the smoothie Selah handed him but didn't drink it, his gaze fixed on her.

Odalys gave him a calculating glance. "Sure."

"Thanks for the smoothie, Odalys," someone said.

"Thanks for the cake, Odalys," several actors called out as they accepted their snacks, glancing at Odalys with gratitude.

Odalys decided to take a walk by the river. The producer followed closely, unable to maintain his distance. He stood slightly behind her, his posture tense, unsure of how to approach.

"Has something happened at home recently?" Odalys asked suddenly.

The producer's eyes widened, hope igniting within them. Moments before, he'd been listless, but Odalys's question was like a switch, bringing him back to life. As a respected producer, he was used to people fawning over him; this was the first time he'd approached someone with a request.

"How did you know?" he asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and curiosity. He'd heard rumors of Odalys's abilities but remained skeptical.

"You have dark circles under your eyes, your expression is heavy, your forehead is a little darker. You probably can't sleep at night. And there's an unfamiliar aura around you," Odalys said, scanning him with uncanny precision. "Let me summarize: something has entered your house that doesn't belong there, and it's causing problems. Your wife almost miscarried, and even though the pregnancy is stable for now, the child will likely not survive if this continues."

The producer's face turned pale, his heart racing. This was a private matter, shared with no one. His wife's pregnancy had been kept secret, and this was the first time anyone had mentioned it. They'd kept it quiet, aware of the risks involved with miscarriages in the first trimester. But for the past few days, his wife had experienced severe discomfort and bleeding. Despite doctors' assurances, the situation had worsened. Four days of unrelenting bleeding, hospital visits, and treatment had yielded no improvement. Last night, his wife had endured hours of pain, and the bleeding had returned. He suspected something was wrong, but hospital tests kept coming back normal. When he heard Odalys was nearby, he couldn't wait to speak to her.

"What do you mean by 'something that doesn't belong there'?" the producer asked urgently.

Odalys turned, standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back. Her gaze was sharp, her voice calm yet direct. "After your wife found out she was pregnant, did you bring a picture into the house, hoping the child would grow up as beautiful and cute as the one in the image?"

The producer froze, his eyes wide. "Wha—how do you know?" His voice shook as he wiped sweat from his brow. Odalys's accuracy was terrifying, exceeding even the rumors.

"I can tell from your face," Odalys replied cryptically.

The producer fell silent. After a moment, he spoke slowly, filled with guilt. "After my wife got pregnant, she saw a post online recommending hanging pictures of cute dolls by the bedside. It was said the child would grow up healthy and beautiful if they saw the images every day," he explained. "She insisted on buying one, convinced it would bring good fortune. But then she started having nightmares, and the bleeding started. At first, I didn't think much of it, but after several incidents, I started to worry. But what does a picture have to do with this? We just bought it as a cheap decoration."

Odalys listened silently. She'd heard of people doing similar things—hoping images would bring their children good luck.

"Let me see the picture," Odalys said firmly.

The producer fumbled with his phone, realizing the image wasn't on it. Panicking, he called his wife. The call was answered, and he switched to video mode. "Okay, show it to Odalys," he instructed frantically. His wife, confused but compliant, lifted the phone and directed the camera toward the picture by their bedside.

As Odalys stared at the image on the screen, her heart sank. Her expression darkened, foreboding sweeping over her.

"Is it the picture?" the producer asked anxiously.

Odalys stared for a long moment, her face ashen. "That's enough. End the video for now."