I watched the unfolding scene on the set with sharp, calculating eyes. The artist-a famous one, no doubt in the middle of a dramatic pose, the kind that could either make or break a campaign. Every detail mattered, from the lighting bathing her in just the right glow to how her dress caught air at each pre-orchestrated turn. And it was my job to keep it that way.

The five years in this industry had taught me one thing: that appearances mean everything. And in advertising, a mistake could cost a company its reputation. I loved my job, but I knew the game. Tonight, though, the stakes felt higher, like something hung suspended in the air, moving just under the surface.

“Cut!” the director yelled. “That's a wrap, people. Good work.” I exhaled, easing out of the rigid stance I'd held while watching the shoot. 

It was over and nothing had gone wrong. Thank God. As the crew started packing up, the artist's manager approached me, her face calm but professional, the same way she'd been all day.

“Everything has gone perfectly well, Ms. De Morny. We shall get in touch for final editing,” she said, stretching out her hand.

“Thanks for your cooperation,” I said as I shook her hand with a firm grip. “It will look great, I'm sure this campaign.”