Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle-Chapter 95: Weak Signal

From the production tents, the coastline looked plain. The water was calm under a light sky, small waves coming in without force. The air was salty, leaving a layer on the equipment and clothing—sand collected in the seams of boots and along the edges of cables. The hospital façade stood against it. From certain angles, it was convincing when the wind hit it; less so.

Noah arrived on set before the first call time. He stepped out of a rented SUV that was already gathering dust.

The crew moved differently outside than inside the studio. Radios replaced shouting. Sandbags held down the light stands. The wind changed direction unexpectedly, affecting the microphones and fabric.

He adjusted his jacket collar and walked past the catering tent to the temporary staging area. A production assistant nodded as he went by. "The wind’s picking up again," she said, looking at the water.

"It holds," Noah replied, without looking up.

The series staged a disaster along the coast. They used the coastline to represent a storm-damaged harbor in the story. Emergency tents were set up on the sand, with their sides secured but still fluttering at the edges. Inside, stretchers and equipment were arranged in a chaotic manner.

A small entertainment crew stood at the edge of the area, with cameras on light tripods. They had limited access to film a short segment about Noah’s return after his injury. They stayed out of the way, but people could still see them.

When the reporter approached during breaks in filming, she kept her distance from the working crew. "We’re glad you’re back," she said, holding the microphone at chest level. "People were worried that your shoulder might delay things further."

"It healed," Noah answered.

She waited, maybe hoping for more details. The wind blew her hair across her face, and she pushed it back.

"Did recovery change how you take on roles like this?" she asked.

"It needed some adjustment."

"Are you avoiding physically demanding work now?"

"No."

The reporter looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded and signaled to her cameraman.

Noah entered the emergency tent, where the bright lights shone through the thin fabric. The scene showed urgency. He took the center of the tent while the wind pushed at the canvas. Extras lay on stretchers, their makeup made to look like injuries. Sand shifted underfoot as the crew moved around.

"Action."

The tent flap swung open as actors rushed inside. Their voices mixed together. Noah moved to the center, speaking clearly to be heard above the noise. His movements stayed controlled. When he reached for a prop instrument, he did it carefully. He adjusted his stance when the sand shifted.

"Cut," the director called, raising his hand. "The wind is messing up the audio."

Crew members adjusted the microphones. One of the assistant directors approached Noah.

"We can shorten the scene if the wind keeps blowing like this."

"We finish it," Noah said, looking toward the tent opening where he could see the ocean beyond the staging area.

The assistant director nodded and walked away.

During a break, Noah went to a small gravelled area at the edge of the lot. His phone showed a weak signal—one bar that flickered and then disappeared. Earlier that morning, he received a message from Arianne.

The contract is complete.

It had been sent hours earlier. He read the message once and typed a reply.

Good.

The phone showed "Sending..." for a few seconds. He took a step to the left and lifted the phone slightly. The signal came back for a moment. Then, "Sent" appeared, but the bars disappeared again.

He put the phone back in his pocket and turned toward the tent as the wind pressed against his coat.

Filming continued into the afternoon. Sand built up along the edges of the tent floor, even though the crew tried to clear it several times. A gust of wind lifted a medical chart, sending it sliding toward the tent entrance until a crew member stopped it with his foot.

Noah stayed in place for each take, completing the sequence without showing any strain. When the director finally called for a break, he stepped outside and rolled his shoulder in a small, controlled motion.

By early evening, the sky turned gray. The ocean blended into the horizon. They would continue tomorrow. For now, the crew secured the equipment against the wind.

Noah walked towards the row of rental cabins set along a gravel road above the shoreline.

The assigned cabin was small and practical. A foldable table sat by the single window. Script pages were spread across the table, weighed down by a ceramic mug. A portable heater hummed quietly in the corner. The walls were thin; the wind made itself heard.

He put his phone on the table and took off his jacket. The signal indicator showed one bar and then none. There were no new messages.

He poured water from a plastic bottle into a mug, but the water did not warm up. He sat down and looked over the next day’s script changes, marking one line with a pen before putting the pages aside.

Outside, the light completely faded. The lamp lit the window. Beyond it, only the dark sea.

—

Morning in the city arrived without wind.

The kitchen windows let in soft light across the countertop. Leo sat at the table with his tie loosely tied. He had art books stacked unevenly next to his plate. Lily stood by the counter, her school bag open and partially unpacked, with a permission slip folded between the pages of a notebook.

Arianne moved between the stove and the table. She set down a glass of water before reaching for Lily’s bag.

"Is it in the side pocket?" she asked without looking up.

"I thought it was," Lily said as she checked again.

Arianne found the slip tucked between the lining and the zipper seam. She smoothed it once and slid it back into the folder. "It’s there now."

Leo glanced down at his tie and then at her.

"Uncle Franz usually checks it," Lily commented when she noticed Leo’s frustration.

Arianne stepped behind him and adjusted the knot without comment. The first adjustment left it slightly uneven. She corrected it once more. "I checked."

Lily watched from the counter. "Is he near the ocean?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Does he save people?"

"He reads lines. The camera does the rest."

Lily thought for a moment. "So they pretend it’s real."

"Yes."

Leo closed his book and slid it into his bag. Lily sat next to him.

"Dad used to miss breakfast when there were meetings," she said, not looking directly at Arianne.

Arianne placed a hand briefly on the back of his chair. "Yes."

"He always came home after," Lily added.

"Yes."

Arianne picked up the car keys from the counter. She opened the front door and stepped into the cool air of the early morning, locking the door behind her as she walked to the car parked at the curb.

On the drive to school, they traveled through familiar streets, facing traffic lights that changed in order. At a red light, Leo looked at his tablet briefly and saw a headline about Noah returning to filming, but he didn’t say anything.

Arianne saw the headline and kept her eyes on the road.

After dropping them off, she went back to the car, checked her phone, and started the engine. There were no new messages.

At the office, the morning went on with scheduled calls and meetings. Around midday, a legal associate entered her office with a folder.

"There’s a revision to a clause that needs Mr. Rochefort’s acknowledgment," he said carefully. "If he’s unavailable this afternoon—"

"Send it," Arianne said.

He paused for a moment. "Directly?"

"Yes."

He nodded and left the folder on her desk.

She forwarded the document with the subject line unchanged. The email was sent. No confirmation returned. She went back to reviewing the acquisition timeline.

Later, as the afternoon turned to evening, she tried to make a call.

The phone rang once, then the connection broke up with static. Wind came through the speaker, then silence. She looked at the screen. No signal.

She placed the phone face down on her desk and continued marking the margin of a printed contract.

Ten minutes later, a message arrived.

The signal is weak. I will call you when it clears.

She replied:

Got it.

She left the office as dusk began. The house was quiet when she got home. She placed her bag on the entry table and walked to her study. After turning on the desk lamp, she sat down. The lamp lit her desk but left the room’s corners dark.

Her phone sat next to the stack of documents. It did not vibrate again.

—

Night fell heavily along the coast.

The wind pushed against the cabin in bursts, shaking the thin walls before calming down. Noah stepped outside for a moment and closed the door behind him. The dark shoreline was only marked by the light foam where the water met the sand. A single light flickered from another cabin down the road.

He stood there with his hands in his jacket pockets. The air was cooler than during the day. The signal indicator on his phone showed no bars.

He turned and went back inside. The door closed softly. The cabin light stayed on, a small square against the dark.