Kayla changed into a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. She signed her discharge papers and walked out the automatic doors of the hospital.

The harsh Los Angeles sun hit her face. She narrowed her eyes against the glare.

She took a deep breath. The hot exhaust fumes filled her lungs. She was really alive.

A black company van sat idling by the curb. The driver laid on the horn, two sharp, impatient blasts.

Kayla's face remained entirely blank. She walked to the van, pulled open the heavy sliding door, and climbed into the back seat.

She didn't look at the driver.

Effa Nichols sat in the passenger seat, barking into her phone.

"Yes, she's a trainwreck, but she brings the hate-watchers," Effa sneered, not bothering to lower her voice.

Kayla pulled a pair of wireless earbuds from her pocket and shoved them into her ears. She didn't turn on any music.

She pulled out her phone and typed Guillermo's name into the search bar.

The screen populated with hundreds of articles. Guillermo Sims: Hollywood's Most Devoted Fiancé.

A physical wave of heat crawled up Kayla's neck. Her teeth ground together so hard her jaw ached.

The van merged onto the Pacific Coast Highway. Effa ended her call and twisted around in her seat.

"Listen to me," Effa warned, pointing a manicured finger at Kayla. "Don't do anything stupid on this show. Just sit there and look pretty."

Kayla slowly pulled one earbud out. She met Effa's eyes.

"Make sure my appearance fee actually hits my account this time, Effa," Kayla said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "I read the ledger on the phone you just gave me. I know about the twenty percent you've been skimming off the top."

Effa's face drained of color. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Kayla put the earbud back in and looked out the window.

The van fell into a suffocating silence.

An hour later, the vehicle pulled up to a massive, modern glass villa sitting right on the sands of Malibu beach.

Kayla pushed the door open. The salty ocean breeze whipped her hair across her face.

Crew members rushed around the driveway, carrying cables and light stands.

Kayla pulled her small suitcase from the trunk. A production assistant with a clipboard walked right past her, rushing to greet a male model stepping out of an Uber.

Kayla didn't react. She stood still, her eyes scanning the perimeter.

She spotted three hidden cameras tucked into the palm trees and the eaves of the roof.

Two lighting technicians stood near the garage, whispering and pointing at her.

"That's the internet joke," one muttered.

Kayla's lips twitched into a cold half-smile.

An assistant finally walked over and shoved a laminated schedule into her hand without making eye contact.

Kayla looked at the paper. She memorized the timestamps and locations in five seconds.

A loud engine roar shattered the background noise. A neon-green sports car slammed on its brakes at the edge of the red carpet.

Bria, a trending pop singer, stepped out. She wore oversized sunglasses and a dress that barely covered her thighs.

Photographers swarmed her instantly.

Bria walked up the path. As she passed Kayla, she deliberately dropped her shoulder and slammed it into Kayla's collarbone.

Bria let out a loud, mocking scoff.

Kayla's feet stayed planted. She didn't stumble.

She calmly raised her hand and brushed her shoulder, exactly where Bria had touched her, as if wiping away dirt.

Behind a monitor in the production tent, the director's eyes widened. He tapped the screen.

A crew member waved the guests inside.

Kayla gripped the handle of her suitcase and walked through the massive double doors.

The living room was blindingly bright. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling.

Two male guests, Jax and Rhys, sat on the plush velvet sofas. They looked up when Kayla entered.

They gave her a tight, dismissive nod.

Kayla nodded back. She didn't smile. She didn't try to start a conversation.

She walked to a single armchair in the darkest corner of the room and sat down.

Jax exchanged a confused look with Rhys. This wasn't the desperate, attention-seeking girl they had read about.

The speakers in the ceiling crackled.

Don, the veteran host, spoke through the intercom. "Welcome to the house. Cameras are rolling."

Kayla lifted her chin. She stared directly into the lens of the camera mounted across the room.

Her eyes were dark and predatory.

The red recording lights on the hidden cameras blinked to life simultaneously.

Don walked into the living room. He wore a sharp suit and a perfectly practiced television smile.

"Welcome, everyone," Don announced, spreading his arms.

He walked down the line of guests, introducing them one by one. When he reached Kayla, he paused. The silence stretched a beat too long.

"And we have Kayla," Don said, his tone laced with amusement. "Known mostly for... well, keeping the internet very busy with her controversies."

Jax and Rhys smirked. Bria let out a high-pitched giggle.

They were waiting for her to snap. They wanted the viral meltdown.

Kayla crossed her legs. She looked at Don with absolute calm.

"It takes a lot of energy to keep the internet entertained, Don," Kayla said smoothly. "I'm just glad the producers could afford my hourly rate to boost your ratings."

Don's smile froze. He opened his mouth, but he had no comeback for that level of bluntness.

Jax raised his eyebrows. He picked up his water glass, looking at Kayla with sudden interest.

A production assistant hurried into the room carrying a tray of brightly colored sponsored energy drinks.

He handed one to everyone in the room. He walked past Kayla's chair without stopping.

Bria held her can up to the camera. "Oh my god, I love this flavor. It's so exclusive." She shot a smug look at Kayla.

Kayla didn't ask for a drink. She stood up and walked toward the open-concept kitchen.

She found the high-end espresso machine. Her hands moved with practiced precision.

She ground the beans, tamped the portafilter, and pulled a perfect double shot of espresso.

The rich, dark smell of roasted coffee filled the room.

Rhys looked down at his neon-pink energy drink, suddenly looking disgusted by it.

Kayla walked back to her chair, holding the ceramic mug. She took a slow sip, completely ignoring Bria.

Bria's face flushed red. She slammed her can down on the table.

"Alright, everyone," Don interrupted, clapping his hands. "We have a massive surprise for you."

The main lights in the living room dimmed. A bright spotlight hit the top of the grand spiral staircase.

The sharp click of heels echoed through the room.

Don's voice boomed. "Please welcome our VIP guest observers!"

Guillermo and Jasmine walked down the stairs, arm in arm.

Kayla's fingers clamped around her ceramic mug.

Her knuckles turned bone-white. The heat from the coffee burned her palm, but she couldn't feel it.

Her stomach violently contracted. The bile rose in her throat, tasting like acid.

It was the man who had watched her die.

Kayla forced herself to inhale. She pushed the air deep into her lungs, forcing her heart rate to slow down.

She lowered her eyelashes, staring into the black liquid in her cup.

Guillermo reached the bottom of the stairs. He waved at the cast with practiced humility.

His eyes swept over the room. When his gaze landed on Kayla, he stopped.

He heard her name during the introductions. A flicker of unease crossed his face.

But as he looked at her-the sharp jawline, the cold aura, the stunning features-the unease vanished.

This woman looked nothing like the exhausted, broken girl he had left in East LA.

Jasmine noticed Guillermo looking at Kayla. Her grip on his arm tightened. Her eyes narrowed into slits.

Guillermo and Jasmine took their seats on the elevated sofa in the center of the room.

Kayla slowly raised her head.

Her face was a mask of perfect, polite indifference. The corners of her lips curled up into a faint smile.

She looked right at Guillermo.

Behind the monitors, the director pointed at the screen. "Get a tight close-up on her face right now."

The cameras adjusted their focus. Don gestured toward the VIP couch.

"Let's start with a quick Q&A," Don said. "Guests, feel free to ask our observers anything."

Bria practically jumped out of her seat. "Guillermo, Jasmine, your relationship is literally goals. How did you know you were the one for each other?"

Guillermo flashed his signature smile. He looked at Jasmine with sickening devotion.

"When you meet the right person, everything else just fades away," Guillermo lied flawlessly. "We met at a charity gala, and I just knew."

Kayla sat in the corner. Her stomach churned.

She took another sip of her espresso to wash down the disgust. She looked at Guillermo like he was a bug under a microscope.

Jasmine soaked in the attention. She turned her head and caught Kayla's cold stare.

Jasmine's smile turned sharp. "What about you, Kayla? You've been quiet. What's your take on true love?"

The room went dead silent. The cameras pivoted to Kayla.

It was a trap. Jasmine wanted her to say something stupid or cynical to get dragged by the internet.

Kayla set her mug down on the glass table. The ceramic made a sharp clink.

She looked directly into Jasmine's eyes.

"I think love is about loyalty," Kayla said. Her voice was low and steady. "I have zero tolerance for people who use their partners for leverage, and then betray them when someone richer comes along."

Guillermo's left eye twitched.

His hand, resting on Jasmine's knee, jerked slightly. He quickly looked away from Kayla, staring hard at the floor.

Jasmine didn't notice his panic. She just rolled her eyes. "Wow. So deep."

Don cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Moving on! It's time to select your bedrooms."

Don explained the rules. There were two-person rooms. They would draw blind boxes from the garden. If two people wanted the same room, they played rock-paper-scissors for it.

The cast walked out the glass doors to the backyard.

Several wooden boxes sat on a table.

Jasmine pulled Bria aside. She whispered in her ear, glancing at Kayla.

Bria nodded eagerly. She walked over to the other girls, whispering the plan to isolate Kayla and force her into the basement room.

Kayla stood back. She watched them scheme. She looked at the floor plan taped to the wall.

Thalia, a veteran actress in her forties, stood near the edge of the patio. She yawned, looking incredibly bored by the high school drama.

Don signaled the start.

Jasmine stepped up first. She grabbed the box for the master suite.

Bria rushed up and grabbed the box for the room right next to it.

The other guests quickly grabbed their boxes.

Only two boxes were left. The standard double room, and the basement room without windows.

Thalia walked up and casually picked up the box for the standard double room.

Kayla stepped forward to grab the same box.

"Wait," Jasmine interrupted loudly. She stepped in front of Kayla. "Bria actually wanted that room. I'm going to play for her."

It was a blatant power move to force Kayla into the basement.

Kayla let out a short, cold laugh. She stepped right up to Jasmine, invading her personal space.

She held out her right hand, her eyes locked onto Jasmine's.

Jasmine smirked. She pumped her fist three times and threw a Rock.

Kayla's eyes hardened. She threw Paper.

Her flat palm slammed down, completely covering Jasmine's clenched fist.

Jasmine stared at their hands. The smug smile slid off her face, leaving her pale and furious.

Kayla didn't say a word. She turned her back on Jasmine and walked over to Thalia.

"Looks like we're roommates," Kayla said.

Thalia chuckled. "Looks like it."