Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 72

In the scene, Queena’s character, the devoted wife, unintentionally leaks a mission plan, resulting in the deaths of three comrades. Yvonne’s character, the policewoman, is overwhelmed with grief and rage and slaps her.

“Alright everyone, places! And… action!” Mr. Turner’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie.

Yvonne and Queena stood face to face. Once she was in character, Yvonne raised her hand and swung, but her palm barely grazed Queena’s cheek.

“Cut!” Mr. Turner’s voice was laced with irritation. “Yvonne, I know it’s acting, but the audience needs to feel it. It has to look real.”

“Right, Mr. Turner, I understand,” Yvonne replied, feigning the meekness that was so characteristic of the original Yvonne.

Queena smirked. Matthew’s visit had clearly intimidated her.

“Smart move, Yvonne,” she whispered. “I’m the love of Matt’s life. If you so much as lay a finger on me, he’ll never forgive you.”

Yvonne said nothing. When the director called “action” again, she swung, her hand lightly brushing past Queena’s face once more.

“Cut, cut, CUT!” Mr. Turner yelled into his walkie-talkie, his frustration boiling over. “Yvonne, did you skip breakfast this morning? Put some force into it! Do you not know how to slap someone? Do I need to show you?”

“It’s okay, Yvonne, you can hit me for real,” Queena said with false sincerity. “We’re actors. We have to be professional.”

Yvonne smiled. Well, if you insist.

“Alright, places! Let’s go again!” Mr. Turner called out.

The second his voice died down, Yvonne’s hand flew, and a loud, sharp crack echoed across the set as her palm connected squarely with Queena’s cheek.

If a newcomer slapped another actor unconscious on set, her career would be over before it even began.

“Queena!” her assistant screamed, frantically calling for a doctor as she rushed onto the set.

But before she could reach her, Yvonne swiftly knelt, hauled the “unconscious” Queena up, and pressed her thumb hard into the pressure point below her nose.

Yvonne showed no mercy. The pain was so intense that tears streamed down Queena’s face. She couldn’t keep up the act any longer and her eyelids fluttered open.

“Oh, I thought you really fainted. Turns out you were just acting,” Yvonne said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. She turned to Mr. Turner. “Director, you didn’t tell me Queena had an extra scene. Should we shoot that again?”

Every eye on set turned to Queena. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.