Chapter 12: Baptism by Fire

The red recording light flicked on.

The set fell into silence.

The director called out, "Action!"

And just like that, Nate was no longer himself.

He was Mason Carter—a ruthless, ambitious enforcer caught in a tense standoff with his boss, played by the legendary Marlon Hayes.

The scene was simple: Mason had made a mistake. His boss was pissed. He had to talk his way out of it—or face the consequences.

But simple didn't mean easy.

Marlon Hayes was a powerhouse, a veteran with decades of experience.

Nate knew—if he didn't bring his A-game, he'd get swallowed whole.

Marlon's presence was magnetic. His voice was calm, measured, but carried the weight of authority.

"You think this is a joke, Mason?" he growled, stepping into Nate's space. "You put my entire operation at risk."

Nate met his gaze, keeping his expression sharp but controlled.

"I did what needed to be done," he said, voice steady.

Marlon narrowed his eyes. "You sure about that?"

A beat of silence.

Then—Nate smirked.

And just like that, the energy shifted.

Marlon tilted his head, intrigued.

Nate had just done something bold—he wasn't reacting to Marlon's intensity. He was controlling it.

He wasn't playing a scared underling.

He was playing a man who knew his own worth.

Marlon's lips curled into a grin.

He felt it too.

The scene continued, tension building like a slow-burning fire.

By the time the director called "Cut!", the entire crew was silent.

Then—someone clapped.

And another.

Until the entire set was filled with applause.

Marlon chuckled, clapping Nate on the shoulder.

"Kid, you're the real deal."

By the end of the day, word had already started spreading.

The crew whispered about the new guy who could actually act.

Even the director, Elliot Grayson, pulled Nate aside.

"You just made my job a whole lot easier," he said with a smirk. "Keep this up, and you won't be a supporting actor for long."

Claire called him that evening.

"Whatever you did on set today, people are talking," she said. "I just got a call from a casting agent who suddenly wants to 'discuss future opportunities' with you."

Nate grinned. "That's a good thing, right?"

"It's a great thing. Just don't screw it up."

"Have a little faith, Claire."

She laughed. "I do. That's why I'm lining up more meetings."

That night, Nate received another text.

Serena: Celebrating your first day on set?

Nate: Depends. You offering?

Serena: Meet me at VELVET. Midnight.

VELVET. One of the most exclusive rooftop lounges in the city.

Nate knew what this was.

Serena wasn't just inviting him for drinks.

She was inviting him deeper into her world.

And he had no intention of saying no.

At midnight, Nate arrived at VELVET, dressed in a tailored black shirt and fitted slacks.

The bouncer barely glanced at him before waving him inside.

Serena was waiting at the VIP section, looking effortlessly stunning in a sleek, dark red dress.

"Fashionably late," she teased as he slid into the seat beside her.

"Had to make an entrance," he shot back.

She smirked, handing him a drink. "To your first real role."

They clinked glasses, the city lights stretching out behind them.

But before he could take a sip, Serena leaned in.

"Hollywood's watching you now, Nate," she murmured. "Are you ready for what comes next?"

Nate met her gaze, a slow smile playing on his lips.

"I was born ready."

The neon skyline of Los Angeles stretched beneath them, a sea of glittering lights mirroring the stars above.

Serena watched Nate over the rim of her glass, her smirk knowing. "You're adjusting to this world fast."

Nate leaned back, draping an arm over the velvet couch. "What can I say? I like the view from the top."

Serena chuckled, setting her drink down. "It's not the top yet. But you're on your way."

He could feel it.

The whispers about his performance on Kingmaker were growing louder. Casting directors were calling Claire. His name was starting to mean something.

But Serena was right.

He wasn't at the top. Not yet.

And in Hollywood, the climb was just as dangerous as the fall.

As the night deepened, a man approached their table.

Slicked-back hair, a tailored suit, and a presence that demanded attention.

Vincent Roth.

One of Hollywood's most powerful producers.

"Nate Whitaker," Vincent said, extending a hand. "I've been hearing a lot about you."

Nate shook it firmly. "All good things, I hope."

Vincent chuckled. "Depends. Are you as talented as they say?"

"You'll have to see for yourself."

Serena interjected, her tone playful. "Don't let him fool you, Vincent. He's the real deal."

Vincent studied Nate, then nodded. "Come by my office tomorrow. I have a project I think you'd be perfect for."

Nate didn't hesitate. "I'll be there."

Serena waited until Vincent disappeared into the crowd before leaning in.

"That, Nate, was an opportunity most actors wait years for."

He smirked. "And I got it in weeks."

She clinked her glass against his. "Welcome to the game."

The next day, Nate arrived at Vincent Roth's office, a sleek high-rise overlooking the city.

Inside, the atmosphere was pure power—floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist furniture, and walls lined with movie posters from blockbusters he had grown up watching.

Vincent sat behind a massive desk, flipping through a script.

"I won't waste your time, Nate," he said, sliding the script forward. "This is a new project we're developing. A neo-noir crime thriller. And I think you'd be perfect for the lead."

Nate exhaled. The lead.

Not a supporting role.

Not a side character.

The. Lead.

He picked up the script, scanning the first few pages. The writing was sharp. Dark. Gritty.

"You interested?" Vincent asked.

Nate met his gaze. "I don't say no to opportunity."

Vincent smirked. "Good. Because once you step into this role, there's no going back."

Nate's grip tightened on the script.

That was exactly what he wanted.