Her question hung in the air, heavy as a thundercloud. A friend? High-priced scripts?

Elizabeth felt a pang of humiliation. After everything, had he really sunk so low? The implication hung heavy. If James Group needed scripts, they could hire anyone. Why involve her?

Elijah frowned, shaking his head. “No. Why do you keep dragging Sandra into this?”

Elizabeth’s laugh was sharp, icy. “If it’s not her, then who is it? I’ve never heard of any friend of yours needing scripts.”

Elijah’s eyes darted away, his composure faltering. He had fabricated the story on the spot and couldn't conjure a plausible name. Elizabeth’s conviction solidified. It was Sandra who wanted the scripts from the beginning.

“Elijah, you’ve gone too far!” she erupted. His suppressed anger mirrored hers. Tugging at his collar, he responded coldly, “What do you want? You demand respect for your career, and I’m providing resources. Yet you blame me? Even if it were for Sandra, wouldn't it be better than those third-rate companies? Sandra wouldn't be picky. Are you just itching for a fight, or do you really think I won’t divorce you?”

Elizabeth’s temper exploded. “Then do it—divorce me right now!” she shouted, storming toward the door. But a pang of frustration stopped her. Turning back, her voice cracked with anger. “Resources? You’ve stolen my roles and handed them to her, and now you want me to bow down and be her servant? Dream on! I’d rather let my scripts rot than hand them over to that hypocrite. I won’t let my heroines be butchered and mocked by the audience!”

Before she could leave, Oliver stepped in, his face calm. “Ms. Sandra, Mr. James didn’t mean it that way.” Willow, suppressing amusement, added with feigned sweetness, “Ms. Sandra, won’t you have some late-night supper before heading out?”

Elijah’s expression darkened, his temper barely contained. “Let her go!” he barked.

Elizabeth didn’t wait. She shoved past Oliver and stormed out, her fury propelling her. At the gate, she saw Elijah’s sleek Maybach parked smugly. A wicked impulse seized her. With pent-up rage, she kicked the car door hard. The alarm screamed, and a noticeable dent marred the pristine surface. Elizabeth didn’t linger. Feeling a flicker of satisfaction, she disappeared into the night, her heart a storm of emotions.