*Keep it up, don’t forget to update me. You know what I mean.*
Joan smiled as she saw the text. She tucked the phone back to her bag and sat comfortably.
“We are here,” Susan announced.
“Susan, park the car on the other side,” Ivy instructed, pulling out a black clothing hung at the top of the passenger seat.
“What do you plan on doing?” Joan asked, surprised. She thought Ivy was going to barge into the hospital and face Isabelle on her cot.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Ivy responded, putting on the clothing.
Joan frowned. ‘A black zip-up hoodie.’ Ivy wore the hood covering her forehead tightly fitted to her face, zipping it until it reached the apex. Ivy refused to make the same mistake of choosing a wrong disguise. Black glasses are a hell of an awkward disguise.
“I’m sure the reporters are at the front of the building, so you both stay here, I’ll be right back,” Ivy said and got out of the car. Joan scrunched, “what’s with the hoodie?”
Susan veered backward, resting her arm on the other front seat. “I have no idea.”
Ivy walked past the crowd of reporters with ease and sat down in the waiting room very close to where the drama was taking place. She raised her head watching the acting of a no-name actress in front of the media. The door of her room was wide open with a handful of reporters with the pitiful Isabelle with bruise marks all over her face. Many of the hospital workers, including some nurses, were watching the scene.
It seems the hospital management allowed the particular interview to take place. Isabelle really went through a lot of trouble to frame her manager or maybe her to this extent.
“Isabelle, is it true, Ivy Hale’s manager did this to you?” The female broadcaster asked, looking at Isabelle with pity, her face looked badly hurt, in no shape to continue filming as it was her target. If she wins, she will succeed in putting strain on the shooting, placing the blame on Ivy for not controlling her manager properly.
Isabelle sniffed, “Yes, it’s true. It is the truth. I don’t know why she did this to me. Not that I offended Ivy in any way.” She was hinting Ivy was still involved; the reporters were sharp to pick her last statement.
“Do you imply Ivy has something to do with this?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t know, but when I asked for an apology from her manager so I can let it slide. They both ignored me, she didn’t care if I was hurt by her manager in any way.”
Ivy listened calmly to everything she was saying to the media. Still sitting, she smirked at Isabelle’s artful scheme. It happened just yesterday, and the matter was escalated the next morning; it means she definitely kick-started her plan at midnight. Ivy looked at her phone, and that’s where she confirmed her thought. At 11:30 pm, a well-highlighted photo was posted by an anonymous source of her face badly beaten on the ground. Written in a catchy title [See actress supposed to start filming ‘Tomboy Donna’ the next day, badly beaten].
Different speculations surfaced very early in the morning when the blog was found on the net. Continuous sharing led it to spread like wildfire.
Immediately, reporters found out she was admitted at the hospital, close to the studio, they flocked in to get her statement. They first started with, “Who attacked you?” And Isabelle manipulated the media into believing Susan was the culprit.
“Do you strongly suspect, Ivy was behind it?”
“To be honest, we had a little bit of argument backstage for the press conference. But it is not enough to hurt me like this.” She sobbed, “my face is ruined.” She held her face crying. The reporters felt sorry for her; she wouldn’t be able to film until she recovers.
Meanwhile, the netizens were in an uproar. “What is the production team doing about this? Why are they keeping quiet when one of the cast is hurt!”
“Why isn’t she pressing charges against her? This is an assault!”
“She should be arrested.”
“I don’t see any evidence to prove Ivy as the culprit.”
“Are you blind, look at her face, she is badly beaten. How would she do such things to herself? She is in so much pain.”
“Do something! Don’t cry like a loser! Make her pay! Arrest her!”
The broadcaster gave her final report before turning down the rolling camera. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” she said, still sobbing. “How can I film like this? Won’t they replace me now?” Her PA patted her on the back in front of the reporters.
“Get some rest,” they said and left the room, satisfied with the content of the story. It was a huge scandal with none other than the same actress hovering around the top of the entertainment news lately.
Isabelle sniffed one more time before she dunked and jiggled on the cot.
Her PA was exhausted by the steady pretense and facade they pulled in front of the media. “Shouldn’t you have used your acting skills during filming instead of here in the hospital?”
Isabelle sat up immediately she heard her. “Are you stupid or what? I don’t think you want to keep your job,” she threatened, glaring at her.
Her PA averted her eyes away and sealed her lips.
“Be careful of what you said, do you hear me, or I might get rid of you. Nonsense,” she said, laying back on the cot. “I wonder why Director Tim hasn’t visited yet. Do they want to be dragged in the mist?” She chuckled and then sat back up. “In two hours’ time if no one from the cast or the crew visits me, post the other information online.”
Her PA nodded helplessly. Defaming Ivy wasn’t enough; now she wants to drag the production along with her.
A tall woman in a doctor’s robe entered the room. “How are you feeling now, cousin?” She smiled at Isabelle.
“I feel energetic; thank you, doctor,” Isabelle giggled.
“You really pulled this off; I’m quite impressed,” the doctor praised, sitting beside Isabelle.
“You know the media is easy to manipulate, especially if you have great acting skills,” Isabelle boasted, pointing her two index fingers to her face while sticking her tongue out.
The doctor laughed, shaking her head, with Isabelle’s PA showing her teeth in pretense. “How long do you want to remain here?” The doctor asked; Isabelle was clearly occupying space.
“A few days; I’m sure before then, things would have gotten worse. If only that woman had let me pull that bitch’s hair, maybe they wouldn’t have been in this situation,” Isabelle scoffed as she flung her hair backwards.
Isabelle’s PA frowned; she could hear sounds. For a split second, it died down.
“What a schemer you are,” the doctor said and got up. Turning around, she heard someone.
Smiling, the particular ‘someone’ said, “Say cheese.”