Chapter 1
**Title: Sorry, Even Fakes Have Their Limits in Hollywood** **Blurb:** Oscar-winning actor Jonathan Lane takes on a gay film. The reason is simple: his co-star, a younger actor named Cassandra Quinn, bears an uncanny resemblance to his first love. The day Zachary Stone returns home, chaos awaits him. His twin sister, the up-and-coming star Cassandra Quinn, has abandoned the set of a last-minute gay indie film with her girlfriend, leaving behind a crew on the brink of payment issues. To avoid the hefty breach of contract fee, Zachary decides to masquerade as his sister on the film set. Then, he encounters his ex-boyfriend. # This World is a Mess # Jonathan Lane quickly gets into character on set, but after the shoot, he corners Zachary by the exit and pushes him against the wall… **Jonathan Lane:** "Don’t bring feelings into this. You’re just a stand-in." **Zachary Stone:** "What?" # I've landed my dream guy, but I don't even know it # # Gotta stay focused, can't fall for my stunning stand-in # # When will that silly dog realize it's me? # # Every day I'm watching my ex-performance love me like I'm his everything # Eventually, Jonathan, smitten by the allure of his stand-in, stumbles upon a video of himself drunk, repeatedly shouting Zachary Stone's name. Instead of crying, the small stand-in laughs like a fool. **Jonathan Lane:** "..." **Zachary Stone:** "No feelings outside of the scene, huh?" **Jonathan Lane:** "I meant feeling it out in front of the cameras." **Characters:** - **Jonathan Lane:** The Oscar-winning star with a complicated love life. - **Zachary Stone:** The determined twin brother taking on a role that changes everything. - **Cassandra Quinn:** The disappearing starlet who sets off a chain of events. **Emotional Journey:** Two men navigating the complexities of fame and love, pretending to be someone they’re not, only to discover that being true to one’s self is the ultimate act of bravery. **Theme:** Cherish life, protect your vision.
Chapter 2
"I turned down Director Fang's project just to take this one." Seraphina Bright stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling, the white plaster flaking in an almost comical manner. "It’ll be hard to get a good showing; if the film is decent, it might snag a third-rate award, but if it flops, it’ll just be a stain on our record. It's all because of the script." The surrounding area was barren, just an open field, with unfiltered light pouring in. This three-story building was the only one near the filming grounds. "Yeah." Jonathan Lane leaned casually against the couch, responding with indifference. "What brings you here?" Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm your agent, you know." She examined the small leather sofa, the fresh smell of upholstery lingering in the air. It was clear that aside from the bits that couldn’t be removed, everything had been arranged with care; the couch and dressing table were brand new, still carrying the scent of cardboard boxes, and the central air conditioning hummed softly above, sending a cool breeze that mingled with a hint of mint air freshener. After doing a lap around the room, Seraphina casually remarked, "The casting crew told me you didn’t even read the script, just skimmed the PowerPoint and signed off." Jonathan’s face remained expressionless, as if she had just suggested drinking more water. He mirrored her indifference with a nonchalant "Uh-huh." Seraphina understood immediately; he wasn’t going to explain himself. "I just wanted to check in. I have no other agenda." As the economic director of Greenwood Academy, she handled a multitude of artists, and ordinarily, she wouldn’t even personally oversee such matters. Most minor talents would be lucky to catch a glimpse of her. But Jonathan Lane was different. Once he joined Greenwood Academy, he was advised to take matters into his own hands; the goal couldn’t be described as "making him famous" — it was all about "taking care of him," and the KPIs were measured more by feelings than by dollars and cents. This time, she had driven over six hours to this remote acting troupe just to make sure he hadn’t fallen under some kind of spell, wasting who knows how much time in the process. However, Jonathan clearly had no interest in discussing any of it. He merely nodded and went back to poring over the script. Noticing the tense atmosphere, a junior assistant sprang up, "Don’t worry, Sister Xia. I’m here. I’ll make sure Jonathan is taken care of!" Seraphina gave a small sigh, glanced at her watch, and after a few additional instructions, she decided to head back. The assistant followed her, but after walking a little, she suddenly asked, "Are there any female actors in this crew?" The assistant paused for a moment before replying, "Ah, yes." "Who?" "Well, it’s a period drama, so there are two actresses playing elderly members of a singing group, and there’s one who acts as a grandmother, just came by to get an autograph for her grandson." Seraphina shot him a pointed look. "Has the other lead actor arrived? What was their name again?" The assistant connected the dots from "lead actor" and replied, "The other male lead. I think his name is Cassandra Quinn." "The Enclosed City" was an LGBTQ film, and realizing what the director meant, he scratched his head and added, "I did some digging — he has done a bit of idol drama, has no notable background or fans, and I heard he has a girlfriend. They're practically engaged; everyone around him knows, so he probably isn’t someone coming with ulterior motives." Seraphina didn’t probe any further. She had already gathered intel on the co-stars during the drive, and what she heard now matched nearly perfectly. "Keep your wits about you. The film industry is facing a recession, and with so many struggling companies, people will do anything to get noticed," she advised.
Chapter 3
"There's no stopping him from taking on this role," Seraphina Bright sighed as she adjusted the collar of her blazer. "I mean, pursuing this kind of indie film isn’t the worst idea, but we can't let him get caught up in any trouble. These types of movies attract a lot of unwanted attention." The sound of her high heels echoed against the cobblestones as her assistant chimed in, "Don’t worry, I've got it covered. Besides, with Jonathan’s personality, it's hard to imagine him getting into any real trouble." Seraphina didn't argue. Jonathan Lane was known for his icy demeanor, and everyone in the industry knew it. He had risen to fame with a well-timed photo during his audition, transitioned to acting in his second year of college, and within just six years, had already earned the title of the youngest recipient of the Best Actor award. He had always been the type to stay out of drama, with barely a whisper of scandal surrounding him. Beyond filming, he kept his distance from others in the industry, rarely forming friendships, even with his co-stars. They had even dubbed him “the human island.” Honestly, Seraphina hadn’t paid much attention to Jonathan lately. Even if he wouldn’t listen to her, she couldn’t help but be intrigued when a colleague from the casting agency mentioned over tea that he’d signed on to a contract without even reading the script or considering it. She wouldn't have noticed the film's existence otherwise. But once she knew, it felt off. It wasn’t like Jonathan to suddenly pivot to a low-budget LGBTQ film, and Seraphina was struggling to wrap her head around it. "Alright, I’m heading out. Just keep an eye out for any of those eager young actors and their obsessive fans," she warned. As she slid into the waiting car, she added, "Remember, no drama." Shadowvale was tucked away in a less-developed corner of Castle Heavensgate, a small city where the rent was low. Surrounding areas were scarcely populated, making it an unlikely choice for any serious production. A half block away from Jonathan’s rented lodge stood two temporary white tents, housing a newly set up makeup station with a bright, square mirror illuminated by soft lights. In the far-left mirror, a young man with chestnut hair slouched, his ears half-hidden within his curls, as he amused himself with the gentle taps of his fingers against the chair's armrest. “It’s sweltering! I’m going to grab a couple of juice bottles from over there,” Felix Goldsmith declared, dropping his bag and glancing nervously around the makeup station. “Oh, and don’t forget, I’ve got some dried pineapple in my bag. If you get hungry, munch on those.” The young actor plucked one of his earbuds out and shot a sideways glance. “I’m allergic to pineapple.” The cramped makeup station didn't afford much privacy, and even with voices lowered, the makeup artist couldn't help but snicker, “What kind of manager are you? I’ve never seen someone so clueless.” Felix's cheeks flushed as he stood at the entrance. “What? I meant mangoes! I misspoke,” he stammered before hurrying out. As Felix exited, a gust of hot wind rushed in, stirring the stale air of June in Shadowvale. "Cassandra Quinn, right?" With only two people left in the tent, the makeup artist clutched a thin strand of Cassandra's hair and frowned. "They should have briefed you during casting to keep your hair dark. They also specified that it needed to be shorter. What’s with this long hair look? You really didn’t understand the assignment, did you?" The makeup artist gestured with his hands, aligning them to show the proper length. “Now, I’ll have to dye it again, and we shoot tomorrow! There are four or five more people needing their looks done this afternoon; do you think I have the hands of a centipede to handle all of this?"
Chapter 4
The room was silent as the makeup artist fiddled with the loose strands of hair around Zachary Stone's face. It felt as though he had earbuds in, blocking out the world, just like the heat of the cicadas buzzing outside didn’t add any excitement to the atmosphere. “Seriously, you’re still getting your ears pierced during the shoot?” Felix Goldsmith said, lifting a section of Cassandra Quinn’s hair to examine her left ear. “Three big studs sticking out? When you take them out later, where do you expect me to hide those holes?” “This is a period piece,” Cassandra shot back. “What does it matter if I have pierced ears?” Felix couldn’t shake an odd feeling; there was something different about Cassandra Quinn compared to the headshots he’d seen. It was as if a neighbor's cute boy suddenly had a unique charm that made him strangely captivating, like a little lamb that just couldn't sit still. “Every time we work with a small actor like you, you’re always the least prepared. You look nothing like what’s in your contract," Felix grumbled. "And let’s not forget, Jonathan Lane’s just across the street. I need to wrap up this makeup fast. You'll have to wait after I finish with the others to get your touch-up.” “Jonathan Lane?” Cassandra quipped, turning in her chair with a playful grin. “Which school does he teach at? Can't he just come here and do it himself? That’d be way quicker, and I could catch up with him.” Felix nearly rolled his eyes. “He has his own green room. He’s not going to hang out in here with you. This movie wouldn’t even be happening if it weren’t for Jonathan’s star power. Believe me, you're getting a golden opportunity that could disappear if you stumble. So, no, you can’t just chat with him.” “Come on,” Cassandra teased. But it was just a makeup artist's rant, and Felix felt a bit too powerless to challenge it. He stood at the doorway holding two bottles of juice, still wishing he could vent some frustration, but there was only so much he could do in this industry. The hierarchy was real, and looking at the calm face of the person before him, he decided to keep quiet. They were just dyeing her hair black, but the results in the mirror were uneven, a muggy mix of brown shades. Felix had adjusted the dye three times, and the whole place was filled with the smell of chemicals as he finished prepping. Just as he pulled a large sheet of foil from the roll and grabbed his comb, someone grasped his wrist. “What the—” Zachary’s irritation was evident; he pulled away, only to realize Cassandra, a slender figure with delicate arms, was holding him firm. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and peering into the mirror. Cassandra sighed dismissively. “No need to dye the hair.” “Really?” Felix frowned. “I said, no need to dye it,” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. Beneath the light brown ends of her hair, playful eyes sparkled with mischief. Cassandra waved her hand dismissively toward her hair. “It's temporary dye, Boliwanx, it was supposed to be black anyway. With a quick wash, it’ll all come out.” Felix froze for a moment, digesting her words, then made a face of disbelief. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? I’ve been mixing dye for ages, and here you are just watching!” “Seriously, could you at least ask me properly before jumping to conclusions?” Cassandra replied, her tone cheeky, a hint of a smirk curling at her lips. The makeup artist, clearly irritated, threw his head back. Cursing under his breath, he stormed toward the trash can, as a gust of warm air invaded the room. It stirred the quiet space like feeding the fish in a silent tank, creating a soft hum of discontent. Cassandra pushed her bangs away from her forehead, revealing her striking features, perfectly balanced, capturing an essence that felt both delicate and striking, embodying a youthful, ethereal charm akin to a flock of white herons gliding through a bright June sky. Felix was still hovering at the door, shaken by the previous scene. Finally coming to terms, he placed the two bottles of juice he’d been holding onto the vanity and suddenly seemed agitated, like a cat on a hot tin roof. “Zachary, what do we do? She’s not matching her contract!” “Calm down,” Zachary replied, taking a sip of the juice and narrowing his eyes at the fuss. “Everyone has their quirks in this business.” “Right,” Felix muttered, scowling at the chaos before him. Zachary leaned back, powerfully nonchalant. “We’re all a little off according to our contracts, anyway.”
Chapter 5
Felix Goldsmith jumped, startled by the sharp voice behind him. He quickly glanced back, relieved to see the door was empty; the makeup artist had already departed. Zachary Stone and Cassandra Quinn were twins, each carrying different surnames. While they shared strikingly similar looks, their personalities were worlds apart. Just a couple of seconds had made all the difference. Now, they found themselves in this mess, covering for each other’s obligations. “Come on, man, you promised you’d help out!” Felix urged softly, lowering his voice as if he were orchestrating a heist. “Cassandra Quinn is your sister! She signed the contract and then ghosted on the role. The Acting Troupe is about to start filming, and someone needs to cover her back. Who's paying the breach of contract fee?” “I'm her agent, and you're her brother. It’s our mess to clean up,” Felix pressed. Zachary sighed and put his headphones back in the case. “Let’s talk this through.” Felix continued, voice rising slightly in urgency. “What I mean is, we need to make this look convincing. You know how these directors are—one wrong word and they'll just switch actors…” “Perfect! Then I guess I’m out, because I can’t act.” Zachary stretched, then stood up. “I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic. I’ll head back to the hotel and, I dunno, wash my hair or something.” Zachary had never acted before and had no clue about the ins and outs of the Troupe’s workings. He had just flown in and was still trying to adjust. Sleep and meal times had come and gone in a blur. Felix blocked the exit, a perplexed look on his face. “Claustrophobic? This is an open space.” “Seriously?” Zachary shot back. Felix persevered, “Hey, you used to dance. This is all part of the same entertainment industry!” He stood like a bulldog, his bulk forcing Zachary back into a chair. “Look, you just don’t understand. In this industry, acting is the only way to stay relevant. With your looks, no one’s going to do a dead-end job. The idea of scrubbing floors? That’s beneath you.” Zachary stared, tongue-tied. Felix struck a softer note, “I don't want to make this harder for you. It’s just a two-month gig. Once it's done, we move on. It’s all romance—how tough can it be? Especially since your sister tossed me aside…" “Stop.” Zachary had heard that line twenty times or more and it always felt wrong. There was a striking sting of sympathy in there, which made him feel like he was suddenly responsible for everyone’s problems. “I genuinely feel like leaving. I need to wash up.” As he perched at the makeup station, he rubbed his neck, visibly discontent. Just then, a gust of hot air announced the return of the makeup artist. She looked ready to unleash fury but paused when she reached his station, her expression transforming into one of confusion. “What happened to you?” she asked, adjusting the mirror lights to maximum brightness, illuminating the rosy glow spreading across Zachary's neck. “Hey,” Felix exclaimed, momentarily caught off guard. “What’s going on there? That's some serious glow-up.” Zachary squinted, feeling the weight on his eyelids. Perhaps he was just exhausted, mistaking fatigue for something more intense. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I thought your style was different—more sleek and elongated, right?” The artist nodded; though their time knowing each other had been short, her memory was sharp. The glimmering beauty of Zachary’s eyes was hard to forget. She could tell there was a natural allure about him, the way his lashes danced and how his brows framed that soft, captivating gaze. Zachary remained silent, contemplating his reflection. Watching the faint hints of pink crawl up his cheeks, he took a deep breath. “So, Felix… what juice did you buy?”
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