She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 957

"Oh, sorry," she reflexively took a step back.

"No worries, my fault." The voice belonged to a young guy, maybe twenty-seven or eight, with clean-cut features, wire-rimmed glasses, and a faint dimple when he smiled. He was wearing a navy blue tech jacket with a crew badge clipped to the pocket.

Swain Carter. Helena remembered seeing his name on the vendor list. The new lighting director.

"You're Helena, right?" Swain’s eyes lit up as he spotted her name tag. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you. Mr. Lonsdale's top-tier assistant."

Helena managed a tight smile. "Thanks. Are you here to run the light checks?"

"Yeah, for tonight's show. The stage manager and I are doing a full run-through this afternoon." Swain tapped his tablet. "Want to tag along? There are a couple of cues I'm not totally sold on, and I could use a second set of eyes from the audience's perspective."

She agreed, following him into the massive auditorium. The hall was completely empty, rows of velvet seats sitting in perfect silence. The house lights were down, leaving only a dramatic spotlight hitting the grand piano on center stage.

Swain walked over to the soundboard and slid the faders up. The overhead arrays fired up sequentially, pushing beams of light outward from the stage, washing the entire hall in a gorgeous, starry glow.

Helena stood in the center aisle, looking up at the rigs. Her hands rested at her sides, her fingers unconsciously bunching the fabric of her skirt. The lights were almost aggressively bright, making her eyes water.

Swain didn't notice. He was dialed into the board.

"Hey Helena, check this angle for me," he called out, glancing back at her, the stage lights reflecting off his glasses. "Is this side-wash too aggressive? Will it blind the VIP section on the left?"

Helena walked over to the left section and sat down. The angle was tight, skimming right over her head and pooling beautifully onto the piano.

"No, it's perfect. Great angle."

Helena laughed again. "You got lucky. He’s a good boss."

"Yeah, no kidding. Guys at his level who treat the crew like actual human beings are rare." Swain stood up. "I'm gonna go double-check the backup generators backstage."

Helena sat alone in the dark auditorium. Her phone was still face-down on her lap, vibrating with a fresh wave of toxic texts from her mother. Her fingers curled into tight fists.

In the wings just offstage, Morris stood perfectly still.

He had just walked out of the rehearsal room, still wearing his black cashmere turtleneck. He had watched Swain banter with Helena. He saw her smile—a genuine, relaxed smile.

A smile she usually only ever reserved for him.