Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

”He’s annoyingly natural at this,” Zack muttered. ”I’m choosing to resent him professionally.”

”Appreciated,” Stan replied.

More laughter.

Maya had been quiet through most of it. Not detached. Not distant. Just overwhelmed in the quietest possible way.

Her heart was still beating too fast.

Because somewhere between the bridge sequence and the final upload scene, the project had stopped feeling like a rushed island skit filmed on no sleep and impossible deadlines.

It had become real. Not ”good considering the circumstances.” Not ”better than expected.”

Real. Award-worthy real.

”We made something genuine,” she said softly.

The room quieted again almost immediately. She looked around slowly, at the extras squeezed into chairs and against walls, at Zoey holding the camera against her lap, at Zack sprawled across the couch radiating self-satisfaction, at Stan sitting quietly in the corner.

”Everyone here gave this everything they had,” she said. ”One day. One location. No preparation time. No backup plan. And somehow...” She glanced toward the television again. ”Somehow that’s what came out of it.”

A small disbelieving smile touched her face.

”I’m proud of this. Genuinely proud of it.” She looked back at them. ”All of you have full permission to use the project in your portfolios or demo reels as long as script and acting credit stays attached properly.”

The silence afterward was warm rather than awkward, the kind that settles over a room after something honest and good hits well.

Then, inevitably, someone ruined the sincerity.

The extra who had played Senator Holt leaned forward. He had a teasing smile on his face, he had been waiting very patiently for his opportunity to talk about the romantic part of time movie with the rest...

”Okay,” he said, ”but can we discuss the flyboard scene?”

Several people immediately reacted.

”Oh absolutely.”

”Yes.”

”Thank you.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Maya turned toward the window with suspicious speed.

Stan’s expression became professionally unreadable.

The movie had been rewound to the flyboard sequence and paused there, the screen frozen on the breathtaking image of Stan and Maya suspended above the ocean beneath the city lights, balanced between escape and impact.

The extra pointed dramatically toward the paused television screen.

”I’ve watched that sequence twice now,” he said, ”and I would like someone to explain what exactly was happening emotionally forty feet above the ocean.”

Maya blushed, speechless by the current development...

”Oh, I know it was for the movie,” Zack said, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face, ”but there was definitely something else happening up there.”

He leaned forward immediately after, suddenly reenergized like a man who had just found his favorite topic of discussion.

”Let me tell everyone what I personally witnessed from the beach while preparing for my own scene.” He pointed between Stan and Maya. ”Those two were on the flyboard platform looking at each other like the world had temporarily stopped existing.”

”You can’t convince me otherwise...”

”The drone camera was fifty meters away,” Zack shot back. ”The drone was filming the wide shot. I was watching the close-up live with my own eyes.”

He demonstrated with his hands.

”You were this close.”

His palms nearly touched.

”Your arm was around her.”

”For stability. The board self-balances. I preferred additional stability.” Stan said with a cough...

Zack stared at him for a full second.

”You landed on a glass bridge moving forty kilometers an hour, rolled across solid surface, stood up instantly, and didn’t wobble once.” He pointed accusingly. ”You do not require additional stability.”

The room burst into laughter again.

Maya made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and continued pretending the curtains were deeply fascinating.

One of the extras, entirely unhelpfully, replayed the drone footage on their phone.

And unfortunately for Stan’s defense, the footage was devastating.

The cinematic wide shot captured everything: the ocean below, the bridge lights ahead, the spray exploding beneath the flyboard...

...and also the very obvious moment where Stan’s arm tightened around Maya’s waist as the bridge approached.

The moment where she looked at him.

The three seconds where neither of them looked away.

The room collectively lost composure.

”That’s not acting,” the extra announced.

”Thank you,” Zack said immediately. ”The prosecution rests.”

”The scene required close physical coordination,” Stan said, still holding the line with remarkable commitment.

Maya, still refusing eye contact with most of humanity, added weakly, ”It was a tactical extraction sequence.”

Zack turned slowly toward her.

”...Did you just describe flirting as tactical positioning?”

”It was close-quarters aerial stabilization.”

Zoey finally spoke up from the couch, watching the entire exchange over the top of her camera with the quiet amusement of someone observing an extremely predictable documentary unfold in real time.

”For what it’s worth,” she said, ”from a cinematography perspective...”

”Oh no,” Maya muttered.

”...whatever was happening between them,” Zoey continued, ignoring her completely, ”it translated perfectly on camera.”

She tapped the side of the camera lightly.

”You can’t fake that kind of screen presence. Either two people have it or they don’t.”

A pause.

Then, with absolute professional neutrality:

”They’ll like it, this is peak, our efforts won’t be to waste.”

The room absorbed this statement with the gravity of a legal ruling.

Stan calmly picked up his coffee and took a measured sip.

Maya discovered an urgent need to study the curtain seam in microscopic detail.

Zack looked between them with the overwhelming satisfaction of a man whose suspicions had been confirmed beyond reasonable doubt.

”Anyway,” Maya said abruptly, snapping into director mode with visible desperation, ”Zack. Your script.”

”My script,” Zack repeated proudly.

”How much of it exists right now?”

A beat.

”...The title.”

Maya stared at him.

”The title,” she repeated.

”It’s a strong title.”

”What is it called?”

Zack sat up slightly straighter. ”Unfinished Business.”

A pause followed. As everyone burst out laughing...

Then Stan nodded once. ”Good one, that’s actually good.”

Zack pointed at him triumphantly like a lawyer receiving vindication from an expert witness.

”THANK YOU.”

Zoey hid a smile behind her camera.

Maya looked at the ceiling trying hard to hold back her smile...

Outside, the island remained quiet and enormous beneath the night sky, while inside a cramped hotel room, six exhausted people sat around a television realizing they had somehow created something far bigger than a rushed short film.

One day. One location. No safety net. No time to doubt themselves.

And against all reasonable expectations... it had worked..