Paramedics wheeled the sobbing Mrs. Stone out the front door. The red lights of the ambulance washed over the foyer, a chaotic counterpoint to the usual stillness of the mansion.

Butler Hayes approached Delina. His face was stoic, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"A regretful incident, Madam. I will contact the agency for a replacement immediately."

Delina walked to the velvet sofa in the living room and sat down, crossing her legs.

"No need, Hayes. I don't want strangers in the house right now."

Hayes raised an eyebrow. "But the housekeeping..."

"Distribute her duties among the junior staff. Give them a raise," she ordered. "Twenty percent."

Hayes nodded slowly. He had never liked Stone's imperious attitude. "Very well, Madam."

The landline phone on the side table rang. Hayes checked the caller ID. "It's Mrs. Ballard."

Delina smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile. "I'll take it."

She picked up the receiver. "Florene. How psychic of you to call."

Florene's voice was sickly sweet, dripping with fake concern. "Delina, darling! I heard sirens near your estate. Is everything alright?"

Delina knew Stone must have texted her from the stretcher.

"Yes, poor Mrs. Stone. She had a terrible fall. Clumsy thing."

Florene gasped. "Oh no! Listen, I can send over my housekeeper's cousin to help until-"

"That won't be necessary," Delina cut her off.

"But darling, you can't manage-"

"Hiram has already hired a security-cleared nursing team," Delina lied smoothly. "He's become very particular about who enters the house. New protocols."

There was a pause on the other end. The mention of Hiram always made Florene hesitate. Everyone feared Hiram Tyson.

"I see," Florene said, her tone tightening. Her spy was gone, and the replacement was blocked. "Well, surely you can come to tea tomorrow? Kassidy misses you terribly."

Delina gripped the phone tight. The image of Kassidy laughing over her death flashed in her mind.

"I'd love to," she said. "I have so much to tell you."

She hung up before Florene could push further.

Delina turned to Hayes. "Mrs. Stone is terminated effective immediately. Prepare the severance package. And the NDA. Make sure it's the strict one."

"Reason for termination?" Hayes asked, pen poised over his notepad.

"Gross negligence and damage to property," Delina said, pointing to the shards of the Ming vase being swept up by a maid.

Hayes allowed a small smirk to touch his lips. "Understood."

Delina walked to the window. The rain was starting again. She had secured the home front. Now she needed to secure her life.

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her agent, Lana.

"Lana? Don't book that commercial," Delina said. "I have a better idea."

Delina sat in her car in the studio parking lot. She checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, ensuring the dark circles under her eyes were hidden.

She needed to reinforce the lie she told Florene. If Florene checked with Hiram, the whole charade would collapse.

She stared at Hiram's contact info on her screen. "H. Tyson (Do Not Call)."

She took a deep breath and hit dial.

It rang four times. She almost hung up.

"Speak," Hiram's voice answered. Low, impatient.

Background noise suggested he was in a boardroom. Papers shuffling, low murmurs.

"Hi... Honey," Delina forced the word out. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Dead silence on the other end. The background noise in the boardroom stopped abruptly.

<b>There was a long pause on the other end, so charged with silence that Delina could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Delina," he finally said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "What game are you playing?"</b>

Delina suppressed a nervous laugh. "It's your wife, Delina."

"I know who it is," he countered, his voice dropping. "I don't know what this is."

"I just wanted to let you know I fired Mrs. Stone. She broke the Ming vase."

"You called my private line during a merger meeting to discuss a vase?"

"I also wanted to hear your voice," she added. She was testing the waters, pushing the boundaries of their cold war.

She heard a sharp snap on his end. A pen breaking?

"Are you in trouble?" His tone shifted instantly to alert. "Is someone with you?"

He assumed she was being coerced. He couldn't imagine she would call him affectionately of her own free will.

"No. I just... I'm changing things. Starting today," she said softly.

"We'll discuss this 'change' tonight," he said. His voice was dark, promising an interrogation.

"Don't wait up. I have an audition," she said breezily.

"Delina," he warned.

"Bye, Honey." She hung up. Her cheeks were burning.

She leaned back against the headrest, exhaling a long breath. She had poked the bear. But she needed him to be confused. Confusion meant he was paying attention.

She checked the time. The casting call for "Shadows of the City" was in twenty minutes.

She stepped out of the car, adjusting her sunglasses. Paparazzi were camping near the entrance, looking for scandals.

She walked past them, chin up, ignoring their shouts.

Inside the lobby, she spotted Monica Star. Her arch-rival was preening near the elevator, checking her reflection in the brass doors.

Monica Star spotted Delina and smirked. She strutted over, her heels clicking aggressively on the terrazzo floor.

"Delina! I thought you retired to be a trophy wife," Monica sneered. "Running out of allowance?"

"Just taking a sabbatical, Monica. Unlike your acting skills, which seem to have retired permanently," Delina retorted.

A few other actresses in the waiting room stifled giggles.

Monica glared. Her face flushed. "I'm the lead for this. Director Harvey and I are... close."

She let the implication hang in the air. The "Casting Couch."

The assistant opened the door. "Monica Star, you're up."

Monica winked at Delina. "Watch and learn, sweetie."

Delina sat down. She closed her eyes. She focused on the room beyond the heavy door.

Her mind pushed through the wall. She sensed the sleazy, greasy energy of Director Harvey. She felt Monica's desperate ambition.

She visualized Monica losing control.

Suggestion: You are invincible. You can say anything.

Inside the room, Monica started her lines.

Suddenly, she stopped. Delina heard it through the wall.

"This script is garbage, Harvey," Monica said loudly.

Delina heard Harvey's muffled confusion. "Excuse me?"

"And stop staring at my chest, you old pervert!" Monica's voice rose to a shriek.

Delina pushed harder. Escalate.

A crash. A chair being thrown.

<b>"Do you know who I am? I could ruin you with a single phone call! This whole studio will burn before you ever disrespect me again!"</b> Monica screamed.

The door flew open. Security guards dragged a kicking, screaming Monica out.

"You'll never work in this town again!" Harvey bellowed from inside, his face purple.

Monica was hauled past Delina. She looked wild-eyed, confused, as if waking from a dream.

"Next! Delina Ballard!" the assistant called. She looked terrified.

Delina stood up. She smoothed her skirt.

She walked into the office. Director Harvey was adjusting his tie, looking shaken.

"Sorry about that, Delina. Crazy women," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Delina sat gracefully. "Shall we begin, Director? Strictly professional."

She performed the monologue. She channeled the cold of the rain, the pain of the crash, the betrayal of her sister.

Harvey stared at her. He was stunned into silence.

"You... you got the part," he stammered. "The Lead is yours."

Delina smiled. "Thank you. But I want the Supporting Villain role. Not the Lead."

Harvey blinked. "But... why?"

"Because villains have more fun," she said.