Chapter 173: That’s All There Is to It

Chapter 173: Chapter 173: That’s All There Is to It

"If you cross paths with her in the future, just go around her. She’s got a childish temperament." President Warren gave one final reminder.

Some things are better left unsaid; both parties understood each other perfectly well.

Nicole Prescott wants to enter the entertainment industry, but the Prescott Family doesn’t approve. Naturally, they wouldn’t make things difficult for Renee Morgan over such a minor issue.

But Nicole is still the eldest daughter of the Prescotts, representing their family’s reputation. If things get out of hand, the Prescott Family won’t just sit back and ignore it.

Renee Morgan’s striking beauty was calm and impassive; she didn’t acknowledge or refute the words.

President Warren had come for the hype, sneaked a glance at that variety show, but unexpectedly got hooked after just one episode. Now he’s glued to the show every day, can’t help but binge-watch live streams; he knew Renee Morgan’s sniper gestures like the back of his hand and could even recite her every nuance and movement.

Seeing her remain silent, he knew she wasn’t agreeable.

"Given your current popularity, plenty of companies want to work with you, but the Prescott Family has enormous influence in the business world..." President Warren tried to reason with her gently.

Every industry operates on the principle of small fish feeding bigger fish.

The entertainment industry is even more so: actors take cues from directors, directors answer to investors, and investors answer to partners.

This web isn’t hard to untangle. Renee Morgan came to see Miller today. Miller relies on President Warren, and though President Warren honored Miller by giving up the thought of casting Nicole Prescott as the female lead, it was actually because the Prescotts didn’t want Nicole to step into the public eye and he wanted to earn some favor from the family.

If it had been the Prescott Family here today, things would be entirely different: even if President Warren is Renee Morgan’s biggest fan, he wouldn’t dare defy the family.

"I understand. Thank you for everything today, President Warren." Renee Morgan smiled graciously.

"No need to call me President Warren, just call me Warren," he said, voice timid. Probably the idol filter at work—whenever he interacted with Renee Morgan, he unconsciously slipped back into the mindset he had watching the competition.

Watching the live streams, he’d often picture himself joining the Bama Four, rifle in hand, trailing behind Morgan to pick up the leftovers.

Warren came over just in time to hear that "Warren," stumbled a bit and gripped the carved wood along the hallway, eyeing the man speaking and checking repeatedly to be sure she wasn’t mistaken.

This self-proclaimed "Warren" really was one of the top-ranked President Warrens on Z Nation’s billionaire list.

Wait... Could President Warren actually be Morgan’s long-lost relative?

Though the age gap between these siblings is pretty huge...

Back in the car, before Warren could interrogate Renee Morgan about President Warren’s connection, Miller called, inviting Renee for an audition; he’d send over the details later.

The surprise came so suddenly that Warren immediately forgot about President Warren, and after coordinating the time and location for the audition, she sighed, "Seems Miller’s pretty satisfied with you."

Renee Morgan: "..."

They’re probably impressed with her sniping skills.

"Thanks to the variety show, they have some interest in me." Renee Morgan understood their enthusiasm; it was all because the competition had just ended, and a shooting craze was sweeping the country. Once that passed, she’d just be another regular person to them.

Warren listened to her explanation, stunned: "Even big shots go fangirling?"

Renee Morgan said sheepishly, "It’s not fangirling really. They watched the show and want to see me snipe firsthand, just for the thrill."

It’s just like fans wanting to see a singer perform their hit song at a concert.

She was riding the wave of her newfound fame.

Warren seemed to recall something she’d overlooked, furrowed her brow at Renee Morgan: "That Prescott Family you mentioned—don’t tell me it’s the Prescott Family?"

"Besides this Prescott Family, which other family in Maridia could make President Warren say something like that?" Renee Morgan repeated President Warren’s warning to Warren.

Concern crept over Warren’s face: "If President Warren said that, the Prescotts definitely won’t meddle over something trivial, but Nicole Prescott’s status is what it is. If she doesn’t like you, there’s no way she’ll let it go."

Renee Morgan responded with a quiet sound, agreeing with her assessment.

Warren was anxious—Renee Morgan seemed to have momentum, but her foundation was weak. If Nicole insisted on causing trouble, Renee’s entertainment career would become a slog.

The Prescott Family in Maridia was like a mountain pressing down, suffocating anyone beneath it.

For now, Warren couldn’t think of a solution, so she urged, "Morgan, other than work, stay in as much as you can. The company’s already looking for security staff; soon I’ll get you an apartment with better privacy..."

People say entertainers rely on their looks, but it takes effort and energy. Life matters are handled by others—since Renee Morgan signed with the company, everything besides acting and media appearances was managed by Warren, and she rarely had a complaint.

Everyone knew their role—Warren never criticized her acting or show conduct, just as Renee had few opinions about Warren’s management.

Smart people, mutual understanding and respect, that’s the key to lasting cooperation.

After the dinner, they still had to return to the office. Miller had given her an audition, and the script fragments and character notes had already been sent over and needed to be printed.

Their company’s office stands in one area of Maridia Central Tower. Warren told Renee to wait in the car; she’d go print the materials and come right back.

As soon as Warren left, a security guard knocked on the car window, signaling that parking on the street wasn’t allowed. They needed to head to the underground garage.

The driver couldn’t argue, so he turned to Renee Morgan, explained what happened, and instructed Warren to use the underground garage when she returned.

Renee Morgan called Warren, and the car rolled into the parking lot.

Maridia Central Tower—full of the wealthy—was lined with luxury cars. Their vehicle parked next to a Bentley Bentayga SUV.

Once the car was steady, the driver rolled down the window, stuck his head out, then pulled back and muttered as he raised the window, "Even with a Bentley, they’re still stingy, changing their own tires..."

Renee Morgan grew curious and leaned out too.

She barely cracked the window, peered out with her eyes—yet the man outside was incredibly sharp, pausing his tire change to glance back.

Renee Morgan: "..."

Curiosity killed the cat—how could she be so careless for a moment?

She only showed her eyes; surely he hadn’t recognized her?

"Knock knock"

Renee Morgan: "..."

"Who’s knocking?" the driver shouted, reaching for the window to roll it down and ask why.

Renee Morgan hurried to explain it was a friend she happened to run into; she’d get out to say hello.

The driver didn’t mind, only reminding Renee not to wander far, and to let him know if there was trouble.

Renee Morgan slipped her phone into her purse, grabbed her bag, and got out.

A lock of long hair framed her eyes. She lifted a finger to tuck it back, revealing her sloping shoulders and swan-like neck, her dress fluttering, ethereal as ever.

Ethan Sterling had just finished mounting the tire, turned at the sound of the door, and his starry eyes remained cool and steady, projecting a faint, drifting aloofness, nothing more.