Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

Then Stan walked to the chair in front of her desk and sat down.

”Get up,” he said.

Vivian rose smoothly, without haste.

Stan looked at her with the calm, measured focus of someone conducting a genuine evaluation rather than performing one.

”Here’s where we are,” he said. ”You have your position back. Effective immediately, exactly as it was before yesterday. Nobody outside this office needs to know it was ever revoked.”

Vivian nodded once.

”But understand what that means,” Stan continued. ”I have access to every file in this branch. Every report, every update, every personnel record, every production schedule. I can review them from anywhere, at any time, and I will, not on a routine, not with warning, but whenever I feel like it.”

His gaze remained fixed on hers.

”And if I open those records and find what I found last time, you won’t receive a message this time. You’ll receive a termination notice and a security escort.”

Silence.

”There will not be a third conversation about this, Vivian,” he said evenly. ”No apology, no family connection, no appeal to whatever exists between us outside this office will change the outcome. The second termination is permanent.”

”I understand,” she said.

”I need you to understand it completely,” Stan replied. ”Not as something you agree to because you want your position back. As an actual fact about how this works.”

”I understand it completely, I’m sorry for everything.”

Vivian’s voice was quiet, steady.

”You’re not someone I can push against and recover from. I know that now.” A slight pause. ”I knew it before I walked into that meeting at the Wanhai Hotel. It just took me a long time to accept it fully.” She met his eyes without wavering. ”I accept it now.”

Stan studied her for a moment.

Something about the way she stood had changed, the way she occupied the space around her. The arrogance that had once existed in her posture like an invisible structural support was still there, but it had been rearranged around something steadier. Less entitlement. More discipline.

Or at least the beginning of it.

”This branch has significant potential,” Stan said, his tone shifting subtly from judgment to business. ”The talent pipeline. The production infrastructure. The Velaris market position. It’s being underutilized. I reviewed the reports on my way here.”

Vivian straightened slightly. This was familiar ground.

”I know,” she said. ”I have proposals prepared. I started working on them after our first meeting at the Wanhai Hotel, when you told me to figure out how to make myself useful to Star Entertainment and to you as a shareholder.”

She gestured lightly toward her desk.

”I’ve been working on that ever since. I have a development plan for the branch’s talent acquisition pipeline, along with a restructuring proposal for the production division that should improve efficiency and output significantly.”

Stan looked at her for a moment.

”Send them to my official profile before the end of the day.”

”They’ll be there by noon.”

He gave a small nod and rose from the chair.

”One more thing,” he said as he moved toward the door. ”The staff here don’t need details about what happened between us or why I came here today. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a shareholder conducting a routine observation visit. Nothing more.”

”Understood.”

Stan reached the door, then paused with one hand resting lightly against the frame.

Instead of leaving immediately, he glanced back at her.

”What’s on your schedule today?”

Vivian blinked once, clearly not expecting the question.

”There’s an industry talent showcase tonight,” she answered after a moment. ”A private one. Agencies, production companies, streaming platforms, investors, most of the major entertainment firms in Velaris will be there.”

Stan turned slightly toward her again, listening.

”We’re scouting talent,” Vivian continued. ”Actors primarily, though there’ll also be directors, writers, composers, and independent creators trying to secure backing or contracts.”

Stan’s gaze narrowed slightly.

”Star Entertainment is lacking actors?”

”Not lacking,” Vivian corrected calmly. ”But an entertainment company can never afford to stop searching.”

She moved toward her desk and picked up a thin folder before continuing.

”The branch recruitment interviews we’ve been conducting recently are mostly attracting technical applicants, editors, cinematographers, production assistants, post-production staff. Useful positions, necessary positions, but not the kind that become the face of a project.”

Stan nodded faintly.

”What about actors?”

”A few,” Vivian said. ”None with enough presence to anchor a major production.”

She spoke matter-of-factly, without dismissiveness.

”A successful film or series usually requires balance. Unknown actors are valuable, they’re cheaper, easier to shape, and occasionally become breakout stars. But recognizable names draw investors, audiences, sponsors, media attention. They reduce risk.”

She set the folder back down.

”If you rely entirely on unknown talent, audience acquisition becomes harder. If you rely entirely on celebrities, production costs become bloated and creative flexibility disappears.” A slight pause. ”A competent entertainment company balances both.”

Stan studied her quietly as she spoke.

This was different from the Vivian he’d known at the university.

There was no arrogance in her tone now. No need to dominate the conversation or prove herself superior. Just sharp familiarity with an industry she clearly understood far better than he did.

”The showcase tonight is important,” Vivian continued. ”Several agencies are sending people. So are rival companies. If there’s talent worth signing, everyone will be competing for it.”

”Rivals?” Stan asked.

Vivian gave a small nod.

”Netflix, HBO, Amazon Prime, Disney+, Hulu, Universal Studios and many others.” Her expression remained composed. ”Companies with larger production budgets than this branch. Some of them are specifically hunting for emerging actors before contract prices rise.”

Stan leaned lightly against the doorframe, considering it.

He had spent the morning reviewing branch reports, production structures, investment allocations, internal staffing systems.

Interesting. But still abstract.

This, though, the competition for talent, the politics behind casting, the invisible struggle between entertainment companies, felt like seeing the machinery underneath the surface for the first time.

And unexpectedly, he found himself curious.

”When does it start?” he asked.

Vivian looked mildly surprised again.

”Seven tonight.”

Stan nodded once.

”I’ll go with you.”

For the first time since he entered the office, Vivian seemed briefly caught off guard.

”You wish to attend personally?” she asked carefully.

Stan finally looked up from the report in his hand, his gaze calm but carrying quiet authority.

”Vivian,” he said evenly, ”you don’t need to question every decision I make. If I say I’ll attend, then prepare whatever’s necessary.”

A faint tension passed through the office.

”My apologies, Sir Stan,” Vivian said at once, lowering her gaze slightly. ”That was inappropriate of me.”

Then she straightened almost immediately, returning to professionalism.

”I’ll have the formal invitation prepared before then.”