Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 181

The only flaw was the long scar on his forehead, which looked terrifying when exposed.

He brushed his bangs aside with one hand, and a face with striking bone structure stared back from the mirror. His narrow, almond-shaped eyes held a natural, chilly intensity.

Suddenly, Aaron’s eyes lit up.

The vicious-looking scar that had once dominated his forehead had faded significantly. He blinked, staring in disbelief, a slow smile spreading across his face. He never imagined the scar treatment Mr. Spencer had given him would be this effective. Not wanting to waste Mr. Spencer’s kindness, he’d been applying it diligently, though he hadn’t held out much hope.

He quickly dabbed some more of the cream onto the scar. At this rate, it would be practically invisible soon. Then he could finally cut his bangs. With that, and his new skincare routine, he would absolutely dazzle Marguerite.

"Mr. Spencer is my savior," he thought, "I owe him everything."

Meanwhile, after messaging Anna, Theobald glanced at the clock. It was past eleven.

He sent a message to Marguerite: [Maggie, still studying?]

Back when she was a senior, she used to stay up until one every night, and the thought of it had always broken his heart.

When no immediate reply came, he knew she must be buried in her books. The pressure of senior year was immense; even now, he felt a suffocating tightness in his chest just thinking about his own. Marguerite had been through it once, and now she was facing it all over again. He wondered how she managed to cope with such intense stress.

[Get some rest, Marguerite. Don’t stay up too late!]

An idea struck him, and he sent another message, this time to George.

[Mr. Spencer, are you allergic to cats?]

So many people used pets to relieve stress these days. Marguerite loved cats, and now that she wasn’t living with Aaron, maybe having one of her own would make her happy.

He was trying to figure out how to win Marguerite back when his phone rang. It was the film’s director.

“Hello? What’s up?”

“Joshua,” the director’s voice was curt, “I’m calling on behalf of the production. If you don’t show up on set tomorrow to resume work, we will be recasting the male lead. You will also be required to pay a one hundred million dollar breach of contract penalty.”

Joshua’s brow furrowed. The director had been perfectly amicable until now. With his star power, it was completely normal for a production to wait for him. Besides, they could always shoot other scenes in the meantime. Why the sudden change in attitude?

It was a major production, and the contract he'd signed was ironclad, with the penalty clause going as high as a hundred million. He’d rather die than pay that kind of money. Besides, he was getting nowhere trying to come up with a plan to win Marguerite back.

Joshua ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I get it. I’ll be at the studio lot tomorrow.”

“No need to go to the lot,” the director said. “We’re moving the next block of shooting to Veridia.”