I felt a sharp intake of breath, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought the boom mic would pick it up. A hundred thousand dollars.
The realization hit me like a physical blow—shooting ten scenes had netted me a fortune I hadn't even dared to dream of. The system used to drip-feed me ten-thousand-dollar increments for hitting attribute milestones, but this? This was a game-changer. This was "fuck you" money.
I caught myself just before a triumphant shout could escape my lips. With a practiced flick of my wrist, I swiped the shimmering blue interface into oblivion, my face smoothing into a mask of professional calm.
I couldn't let Holmes or Lana see the gold mine I was sitting on; leverage was only useful if you kept your cards close to your chest.
