The CEO Forced Me to Be a Movie Queen! (GL) - Chapter 1

2018.

Typhoon Soka is expected to make landfall this Wednesday, bringing heavy winds and torrential rain. Please take all necessary precautions.

Weather alerts flashed incessantly across her phone screen. Outside the twentieth-floor floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was a bruised, indecisive gray. The wind whistled through the jagged skyline of the city’s office towers, a screaming, fractured symphony that pressed against the thick glass—the frantic prelude to a storm.

Choi Jin-yeon tilted her head back, one hand kneading the nagging ache at the top of her cervical spine. Ever since she inherited a portion of her father’s entertainment empire at twenty-seven, she had lived up to her reputation as “Workaholic Choi.” In six years, she had earned her father’s favor, the public’s praise, and a soaring stock price… but the long hours in cars, boardrooms, and hunched over a desk had left her body brittle.

Ignoring the throbbing pain, Jin-yeon forced herself back to the stack of documents awaiting her signature.

The tip of her Montblanc pen danced across the white paper, leaving behind sharp strokes of black ink. Her signature was distinctive—the character Yeon was always written with heavy pressure, a deliberate safeguard to make her mark nearly impossible to forge.

Six years ago, when her father retired due to failing health, he split the empire between his two children. Her elder brother inherited a thirty percent stake, including a nine percent holding in a major TV station, a streaming platform, three overseas production companies, and a global chain of cultural themed hotels. Jin-yeon was left with a mere five percent stake and a mid-sized domestic film investment firm.

Six years later, Jin-yeon’s company, NEWONE, had swallowed up smaller firms and restructured its core production. Bit by bit, she had shattered the rumors that she was the “failed second daughter” exiled from the family fortune. Now, she was a guest of honor at every elite gala—a powerhouse investor everyone wanted a piece of.

She was envied by the world once more.

And, naturally, that envy bred resentment among the industry’s old guard.

Her coffee had grown cold. When Secretary Kim entered the room, her expression was etched with worry. “President,” she murmured, bowing her head.

As Jin-yeon looked up, the secretary continued, “The representatives are still protesting your decision. Lim Jin-eun is a young Best Actor winner whom this company discovered and nurtured. NEWONE is more than capable of rejecting this termination and putting him on ice…”

Jin-yeon sat back. The minimalist decor of the office felt chic but cold, yet when a small smile played on her lips, Secretary Kim felt a flicker of warmth. The President truly was a woman of gentle grace and nobility.

Jin-yeon didn’t offer a long explanation. She simply handed the signed termination papers to her secretary. “Have Representative Han issue a statement to the media. Say that Choi Jin-yeon treasures the talent she discovers, and she understands that a protracted legal battle would only damage Mr. Lim’s future. Destroying a brilliant actor is not something the public wishes to see. A woman of integrity knows when to let go. NEWONE agrees to the termination.”

Her tone was indifferent, as if the departure of the industry’s hottest star was of little consequence. Secretary Kim took the contract with a look of helpless frustration. Catching the expression, Jin-yeon gave a faint smile. “Go on. Tell the board: that boy isn’t worth our stress.”

The young man clearly didn’t understand. In a country where the entertainment industry was cutthroat, a successful artist was thirty percent talent and seventy percent promotion. Sometimes, sudden fame acts like a hot air balloon, lifting people off the ground until they believe they’ve grown wings of their own. They forget how high the sky really is.

Once Secretary Kim left, Jin-yeon finally let out a long breath. The pain in her neck sent a dull ringing through her brain. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to waste energy on male actors, she thought. My head hurts too much. She was only thirty-three, after all.

She tried to push the trivialities aside to give her overtaxed brain a moment of peace. Leaning back into her ergonomic chair, her eyes drifted back to the low-hanging clouds outside. This wretched weather—and yet another termination contract waiting for her.

July 28th seemed destined to be a day of severed ties.

The chime of the private elevator—the one leading directly from the parking garage to the President’s office—rang out. Aside from her father, her brother, and a handful of VIPs, only one person had the fingerprint access to move that lift.

That child.

The silver metal doors slid open. A figure emerged from the hallway, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoing in the quiet room. Having debuted at seventeen and found stardom at nineteen, the now twenty-two-year-old “Nation’s Little Sister,” Park Seol-soo, had blossomed. The ponytails she once favored were gone, replaced by long hair that had returned from various experimental dyes to a deep, quiet black. With porcelain skin, clear eyes, and a sharp gray blazer, Seol-soo looked polished. Around her slender neck hung a sapphire pendant—a gift from Jin-yeon.

“President.” The girl was characteristically laconic. She gave a curt nod and took the seat opposite the desk. Her clear eyes met Jin-yeon’s; she possessed a calm poise that far exceeded her years.

Jin-yeon pulled out the “clandestine” contract. As she looked down, her hand instinctively went to the back of her neck.

“Is your neck bothering you again?” Seol-soo asked, a rare moment of initiative.

Outside, the wind surged, a low howl that made it feel as though the storm might burst through the walls at any moment. The second hand on the desk clock ticked forward. Jin-yeon placed the contract on the table and smiled at the girl. “How rare—Seol-soo is actually worried about me.” Touched by the gesture, her smile grew warmer. “The situation with Jin-eun has caused quite a stir. The public says the company mistreated him, and the pressure was too much. I had to yield. But more than the financial loss…”

She tilted her head, looking at Seol-soo with a bitter smile. “It hurts my heart. After working so hard to raise him, being betrayed by your own ‘child’ is a special kind of pain. It makes my head throb even more.” She let a trace of vulnerability show, hoping the girl would understand.

But the young woman opposite her simply said, “Public opinion will shift.”

Seol-soo’s features were delicate, possessing the fresh beauty of youth, yet those clear eyes made her cold, contradictory words sound perfectly natural. “You didn’t actually stress over it, did you, President? After the mergers two years ago, the company has plenty of talent in reserve. There are at least two or three actors who can replace Senior Lim.” She knew when to stop, adding smoothly, “Besides, YK—the company he’s moving to—isn’t known for its production quality. The platform might be larger, but without a good creative team, he’ll churn out a couple of flops and his popularity will tank.”

Add a few well-timed leaks of “dark history” once his public goodwill has been exhausted, and a media counterattack would be easy. It might even send the rival company’s stock tumbling.

Jin-yeon arched an eyebrow. Though the girl was often blunt to the point of appearing disrespectful, she always managed to make Jin-yeon smile in admiration. “Ah… why was I foolish enough not to train you for administration, Seol-soo? You could have stayed by my side and handled all my troubles.”

The girl didn’t take the bait. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the contract in Jin-yeon’s hand. “You said it yourself, President,” she said tonelessly. “Today is the day our three-year ‘contract lover’ agreement ends.”

Jin-yeon’s nod was slow, the warmth fading from her face. She gazed at the girl with a look of helpless resignation. “I am not one to break my word.” She paused, a bitter smile returning. “But it seems you truly do dislike me, Seol-soo… Do you have no intention of renewing?”

The wind roared, and the rain began to lash against the glass with a violent rhythm. Inside, the lights were brilliant, masquerading as a day that wasn’t there.

The girl sat before her, eyes cast down, and let out a soft, quiet sigh.

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