Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle-Chapter 102: Stage Three

The air outside was cold. It had been all afternoon. The driver pulled up. Arianne got in and gave him the location. The filming district was under twenty minutes away in normal traffic.

As the car drove through the city, she held her phone in her hand. She called Franz again. It went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message. Leaving one would only add noise. If he were moving, he wouldn’t hear it. If he were hurt, someone else would answer.

Instead, she reopened the entertainment news feed. One clip showed a better angle of the collapsed structure. Another clip showed crew members bracing equipment against the wind. There was no image of him.

She looked for updates from the production staff. They had posted nothing useful. The official account remained silent. That silence mattered more than speculation. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

The car slowed down as it approached the filming area. Barricades guided pedestrians away from the set. Two news vans were parked across the street, their satellite dishes pointed up. A small group of onlookers stood behind temporary fencing, holding up their phones and waiting to see something happen.

The hospital building was taller than the nearby structures, wrapped in scaffolding and painted panels. A fallen truss was moved to the side, lying flat by the curb. Workers carried equipment in organized lines. An ambulance was parked by the entrance, with its lights off. It wasn’t clear if the ambulance was part of the set or real.

Security personnel approached the car. Mira lowered the passenger window to speak. One of the guards opened the temporary gate.

"Production’s paused," he said quietly. "They’re regrouping inside."

"Thank you," Mira replied.

Arianne’s phone vibrated once in her hand.

Monica.

Arianne answered immediately. "Where are you?"

"We’re inside Stage Three," Monica said. Her voice was steady, though pitched lower than usual. "He’s fine. It was a lightning arm. It came down behind him. He wasn’t struck."

"Is he injured?"

"No. He’s with Daryll now. They’ve shut down for inspection."

Arianne stopped briefly, then continued. "Why were you unreachable?"

"Signal interference," Monica replied. "Too many devices in one place. I’m sorry."

"Understood," Arianne said. "I’m at the perimeter."

There was a pause. "He doesn’t know you’re coming," Monica added.

"That’s fine. I just want to confirm he’s okay."

She ended the call and remained seated for a moment, the phone still in her hand. The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror but did not speak. Even Mira only glanced at her boss.

Outside, security personnel redirected pedestrians along the temporary barriers. Two news vans idled across the street, their engines low and constant.

"I’ll stay here," she said.

The driver nodded.

From this distance, the scene looked organized. The fallen lighting structure was moved and now lies flat against the curb. Crew members carried cases to the loading entrance at steady intervals. No one ran or shouted. The ambulance stayed parked, with its lights off.

Her phone vibrated again.

Monica.

"He knows you’re here," Monica said without preamble. "He’s stepping away."

Arianne looked toward the stage entrance. The doors were partially shielded by equipment crates stacked to create a narrow corridor. Security tightened briefly as someone emerged.

She did not open the car door. Visibility was enough. Confirmation did not require spectacle. From here, she could see how he moved. That was enough. If something had been wrong, it would have shown in his pace.

The rear door of the stage opened wide a moment later. Franz stepped out without his jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up. The shoulder injury was no longer visible under the fabric, but it was still easy to remember. Daryll followed him closely, speaking softly. Franz replied without slowing down.

Security created a short path between the entrance and the parked vehicles. The media vans stayed on the opposite side of the barricade, pointing their cameras at the front of the building, not the side exit.

Franz crossed the pavement quickly without breaking stride. The wind blew his hair. Dust covered the outer seam of his sleeve. He did not look at the cameras.

The driver opened the rear door from the outside.

Franz entered and shut it behind him.

The car felt smaller with him in it.

Neither spoke at first. The faint scent of cold air and disturbed metal followed him in.

"You’re fine," Arianne said.

"Yes."

Franz reached forward slightly, as if to demonstrate movement. His shoulder moved cleanly. No stiffness. No delay.

"It fell behind me," he added. "No contact."

Arianne studied him once. There was a thin scrape along the back of his knuckles, shallow and already drying. The skin had already tightened around it. No swelling.

"Your phone," she said.

"Signal collapsed. Too many devices. They cut the towers near the perimeter."

Arianne nodded. "Daryll?"

"Inside."

"Monica?"

"With him."

Outside the window, crew members moved a final equipment case into the building. The ambulance engine started briefly, then cut off again. A camera lens flashed from across the barricade, angled elsewhere.

Franz leaned back against the seat. "You didn’t need to come."

"I know."

The answer was simple. Not defensive. Not soft.

The wind pressed once against the side of the vehicle, rocking it faintly.

He watched her for a moment longer than necessary. "The twins saw it?"

He didn’t ask how they reacted. He already knew.

"Yes."

A brief pause.

"Leo asked if it was like before," she said.

Franz didn’t look away. His expression didn’t change, but he straightened slightly.

"It isn’t," he said. He didn’t lower his voice.

"I told them."

Silence settled between them. It wasn’t strained.

Outside, security began clearing the narrow side lane to reduce congestion. Daryll appeared briefly near the entrance, scanning the perimeter before retreating inside.

Franz reached for the door handle.

"They’ll want a statement," he said. "Short. Contained."

"Of course."

He paused, then added, "I’ll be home tonight."

"Yes."

Franz hesitated, looked at her, then opened the door and stepped back into the wind.

The driver closed it after him. The engine remained running. No one spoke. The idle hum filled the space he had just left.

Through the tinted glass, Arianne watched as he returned toward the stage entrance, dust still faint against his sleeve, posture steady.