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."

Kayla pushed open the door to the standard double room.

The room was spacious. Sunlight poured through the large sliding glass doors, warming the plush white carpet.

Thalia dragged her suitcase in behind her. She looked at Kayla and held out her hand.

"I like how you handle yourself," Thalia said.

Kayla took her hand. Her grip was firm. "Kayla. Nice to meet you."

They unpacked in silence. Kayla hung her few clothes in the closet.

She pulled her sleek silver laptop from her bag. She sat at the small desk in the corner and opened the lid.

She snapped a privacy screen protector over the monitor. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, connecting to a secure VPN.

She opened a browser and typed in Guillermo's social media handles.

The page loaded. It was a shrine to his relationship with Jasmine.

Kayla clicked on the search bar within his profile. She typed in her old name. She typed in dates from three years ago, five years ago, eight years ago.

Zero results.

She spent hours relentlessly digging through the internet archive database, utilizing advanced search operators to pull up the cached versions of his old posts.

Gone.

Every photo of them at the beach. Every late-night diner post. Every mention of her existence.

His PR team hadn't just deleted her. They had fabricated a new timeline. They had planted fake employment records showing she was hired as a temporary assistant just six months ago.

Kayla's chest seized.

It felt like a physical blow to her ribs. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

Her hands began to shake violently. The tremor traveled up her arms, into her shoulders.

Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. It was pure, suffocating rage.

Desperation clawing at her chest, she accessed an encrypted dark web forum she used to frequent for script research. She posted a hefty bounty, using the last of her new identity's digital credits, asking any information broker for recovered data on Guillermo Sims. The post vanished into the digital void, leaving no immediate reply.

She slammed the laptop shut.

The loud crack echoed in the quiet room.

Thalia jumped, dropping the script she was reading. She looked over.

Kayla's face was chalk-white. She was gripping the edge of the desk so hard the wood creaked.

Thalia walked over slowly. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Kayla closed her eyes. She forced herself to take a deep, shuddering breath.

She turned her head. "I just... I realized a man I gave ten years of my life to managed to erase me completely."

She kept it vague. It was the truth, wrapped in a metaphor Thalia could understand.

Thalia's eyes softened. She didn't press for details. She just placed a warm hand on Kayla's shaking shoulder.

"Men like that always slip up," Thalia said quietly.

Kayla nodded. The warmth of Thalia's hand helped anchor her back to reality.

Hours passed. The production crew turned off the bedroom cameras for the night.

Kayla and Thalia lay in their respective beds in the dark.

They talked in low voices. Thalia talked about the brutal reality of aging in Hollywood.

"I despise men who use women as stepping stones," Kayla whispered into the dark.

"Amen to that," Thalia replied.

Around 2:00 AM, a high-pitched buzzing sounded near Kayla's ear.

She slapped her neck. A mosquito.

A few minutes later, a red welt swelled on her collarbone. It itched intensely.

Kayla sighed. She threw off the covers and grabbed a thin silk robe.

She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway.

The house was pitch black. The crew had turned off the main lights.

Kayla walked barefoot down the hallway, heading for the spiral staircase. She knew the first-aid kit was in the kitchen cabinet.

She walked down the stairs, her hand trailing along the cold metal railing.

She reached the bottom landing and turned the corner toward the living room.

She didn't see the shadow standing there.

Kayla slammed face-first into a wall of solid muscle.

The impact knocked the breath out of her. She stumbled backward.

A strong scent of crisp pine and cold night air hit her senses.

She looked up. In the absolute darkness, a pair of eyes stared down at her.

Kayla rubbed her forehead. Her heart hammered against her ribs from the sudden shock.

She squinted into the darkness.

The man was incredibly tall. His shoulders blocked the faint moonlight coming from the high windows.

He didn't speak. He didn't ask if she was okay.

He simply took one step back and turned his body slightly, clearing the path to the kitchen.

Kayla pressed her back against the wall. She slid past him, her skin prickling from the sheer physical pressure of his presence.

She walked quickly into the kitchen and fumbled for the under-cabinet light switch.

A soft yellow glow illuminated the counter.

Kayla opened the cabinet, found the white first-aid box, and pulled out a tube of hydrocortisone cream.

She rubbed the cold cream onto her collarbone. Her pulse was still racing.

She turned around to look back at the hallway.

The space was empty. The man was gone.

Kayla turned off the light and walked back upstairs. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

That pine scent. That heavy, suffocating aura. It didn't belong to Jax or Rhys.

The producers were hiding something.

The next morning, the blare of a megaphone shattered the quiet of the house.

Kayla threw off her blankets. She washed her face, pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, and put on a black sports bra and leggings.

She walked downstairs without a drop of makeup on.

The other guests were gathered in the dining room, drinking coffee and yawning.

Bria glared at Kayla's flawless, bare skin and aggressively bit into a piece of toast.

Don stood in the center of the living room holding a clipboard.

"Good morning!" Don shouted. "Today, we welcome our final, highly anticipated guest."

The room went quiet. Everyone looked toward the heavy oak front doors.

Heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the porch.

The doors swung open. The morning sun poured into the room, blindingly bright.

A man walked through the light.

He wore a tailored black button-down shirt and dark slacks. His face was carved from marble, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

The entire room sucked in a collective breath.

It was Juelz Spencer. The youngest Best Actor winner in a decade and the CEO of DT Media.

He was Hollywood royalty.

Juelz stopped in the middle of the room. His cold, indifferent eyes swept over the cast.

Kayla stood in the back. Her pupils dilated slightly.

It was the man from the dark hallway.

When Juelz's gaze passed over Kayla, it stopped for a fraction of a second. Then, he looked away.

Don was sweating. He stammered as he welcomed Juelz to the show.

Bria immediately pushed her way to the front, sticking her chest out. Juelz didn't even look at her.

Guillermo stood near the sofa. His fake smile faltered. He looked at Juelz with a mix of desperate greed and deep intimidation.

The director stepped out from behind the cameras.

"To break the ice," the director announced, "we are starting with a physical challenge. Everyone to the beach obstacle course."

Kayla frowned. She flexed her fingers.

This body was weak. It had survived on crash diets and alcohol.

She followed the group out to the scorching sand, her stomach tightening with dread.