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.

Lana stared at Delina over her iced latte. The condensation dripped onto the metal table of the hip LA coffee shop.

"You turned down the Lead?" Lana asked, incredulous. "For a supporting role?"

"The Lead shoots in Europe for six months. I need to be in LA," Delina explained.

She couldn't leave Hiram. She couldn't leave Florene unmonitored.

"And I want you to get me on 'The Real Wives of Beverly Hills'," Delina added.

Lana choked on her drink. She coughed, waving a hand. "Reality TV? Delina, that's career suicide for a serious actress."

"It's a shield, Lana. I need cameras on me," Delina said seriously.

If she was a public figure, constantly filmed, Florene couldn't quietly kill her again. Shadows couldn't exist under studio lights.

"Plus, the drama with my step-family is gold. The producers will love it."

Lana looked at her, assessing. She saw the steel in Delina's eyes. "You're planning something."

"I'm planning a takeover. Are you in?"

Lana grinned. "I get fifteen percent."

"Deal." They shook hands.

Delina's phone buzzes. It was a text from Kassidy.

'Sis! Mom says you're acting weird. Dinner tonight? We're worried.'

Delina showed the text to Lana. "See? Content."

Lana laughed. "Okay, I'll make the calls. But Hiram hates cameras."

"I'll handle Hiram," Delina said, though a knot <b>of ice</b> formed in her stomach. <b>She knew what she was asking. It was more than a career move; it was an act of war against his privacy. A man who lived in the shadows wouldn't welcome the glare of a thousand cameras. But that was the point. Shadows were where assassins thrived. If she dragged their lives into the light, she might just survive. It was a gamble-one that could either save her or make him hate her forever.</b>

She stood to leave. As she did, a wave of dizziness hit her.

It was like the ground vanished. She grabbed the table edge, her vision swimming.

A trickle of warm liquid ran from her nose.

She wiped it with her hand. Bright red blood.

Lana stood up, concerned. "Delina? You okay?"

"Just... dehydrated," Delina lied. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her nose.

She realized with a jolt. Using her power twice in one day-Stone and Monica-had a cost. Her brain felt like it was on fire.

She stumbled out to her car. She sat in the driver's seat, leaning her head back.

She checked her reflection. Pale skin. Bloodshot eyes. The power drained her life force.

Her phone rang again.

Caller ID: Gorden Ballard.

She stared at the screen. The man who let them kill her.