The Lincoln crawled through the thick Hollywood traffic.

Even through the tinted windows, Bridie could hear the muffled screams of fans waiting at the venue.

Harriet sat across from her, her face dead serious. "Do not lose your temper today. Do not give the media any ammunition."

Bridie picked at her fresh manicure. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

The car finally jerked to a stop at the drop-off zone. The blinding flashes of hundreds of cameras bled through the cracks in the windows.

A security guard opened the door. Bridie sucked in a deep breath. She pasted a flawless, freezing smile onto her face.

She lifted the heavy sequin skirt and stepped out of the car. The flashbulbs hit her like physical strikes.

Harriet stepped out behind her, her eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk.

Bridie took one step toward the red carpet entrance. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of neon pink.

Alaina Cherry walked toward her. Alaina wore a massive, fluffy pink princess gown. Five assistants trailed behind her.

Alaina's eyes locked onto Bridie's plunging black dress. A flash of pure, ugly jealousy crossed Alaina's face, but she hid it instantly.

Alex Palmer, Alaina's agent, stepped right into Bridie's path, blocking her way.

Alex smiled, his teeth too white. "Bridie! Why don't you and Alaina walk the carpet together? The media would love a photo of the two besties."

Harriet's jaw tightened. She knew exactly what Alex was doing. He wanted to use Bridie's "evil" reputation to make Alaina look like a sweet, bullied angel.

Bridie stared at Alex. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in a cold sneer.

Alaina stepped forward. She reached out, trying to loop her arm through Bridie's. "Come on, sweetie!" Alaina squeaked.

Bridie didn't blink. She smoothly stepped one foot to the side.

Alaina's hand grabbed empty air. She stumbled forward, her ankle twisting slightly in her heels.

The paparazzi at the entrance caught the movement. The sound of camera shutters exploded like machine-gun fire.

Alaina's eyes filled with instant tears. She looked at Bridie with wide, victimized eyes, looking like a kicked puppy.

Bridie leaned in close to Alaina's ear.

"You look like an unpeeled flamingo," Bridie whispered, her voice dripping with venom.

Alaina's face froze. The fake tears vanished. She gritted her teeth. "You're a washed-up nobody," Alaina hissed back.

Bridie let out a loud, genuine laugh. She let her eyes slowly drop to Alaina's completely flat chest, her gaze full of mockery.

Alex saw the interaction going south. He jumped in, raising his voice for the cameras. "Look at these two catching up!"

Harriet grabbed Bridie's wrist, her nails digging into Bridie's skin. It was a silent order to stop.

Bridie yanked her wrist free. She ran a hand through her dark hair, her posture straightening into pure arrogance.

She blew a lazy, careless kiss to the cameras, completely ignoring Alaina's existence.

The security guards started yelling for the guests to move forward. The carpet was open.

Alaina grabbed her massive pink skirt, trying to rush forward to be the first one in front of the main cameras.

Bridie's eyes narrowed. She used her long legs and took one massive stride, cutting directly in front of Alaina.

She turned her back to Alaina, leaving the girl staring at the flawless, exposed skin of her back.

Bridie stepped onto the red carpet. The flashes blinded her, but she walked forward like a tyrant surveying her conquered land.

Bridie walked down the center of the red carpet with a rapid, aggressive pace.

Her black dress hugged her body perfectly. Every step she took commanded the attention of the photographers.

Behind her, Alaina was sweating. The heavy pink gown dragged on the carpet, making it impossible for her to keep up.

Every time a photographer yelled Alaina's name, Bridie casually shifted her weight. She struck a pose.

Bridie used her long legs to take massive, commanding strides, her pace aggressive but perfectly calculated. Every time Alaina tried to catch up, Bridie would stop dead in her tracks, hitting a flawless, powerful pose that acted like a brick wall against the cameras. She reached the press zone with absolute dominance, leaving Alaina suffocating in her shadow.

A reporter from E! News lunged forward, shoving a microphone into Bridie's face. His eyes were wide with excitement.

"Bridie! You look absolutely stunning tonight!" the reporter yelled over the crowd.

"Thank you," Bridie said. Her voice was polite, but her eyes were dead.

The reporter's smile turned sharp. He smelled blood. "So, Bridie, your ex-boyfriend Jory Chambers has been linked to Alaina Cherry recently. Any thoughts on their blossoming romance?"

The cameraman instantly zoomed in. The lens was inches from Bridie's face, waiting for her to break down or scream.

Alaina finally reached the edge of the press zone. She stopped, holding her breath, waiting for Bridie to embarrass herself.

Bridie's face went completely blank. Jory's pathetic, lying face flashed in her mind.

Her stomach churned with physical disgust.

She didn't cry. She didn't yell.

Instead, Bridie rolled her eyes. It wasn't a subtle movement. It was a massive, dramatic eye roll. Her irises disappeared completely, leaving only the whites of her eyes showing pure, unfiltered contempt.

She let out a cold, sharp laugh directly into the microphone.

"Who is Jory?" Bridie asked, her tone flat. "Do I look like I know people from the garbage dump?"

The reporter actually gasped. He pulled the microphone back a inch, completely stunned by the brutal insult.

The paparazzi went absolutely feral. The flashes strobed so fast it looked like lightning. This was the headline of the month.

Alaina heard the words "garbage dump." All the color drained from her face. Her fingernails dug so hard into her palms they almost drew blood.

Bridie didn't wait for a follow-up question. She turned her back to the reporter, flipped her hair, and walked away.

She pushed through the heavy glass doors of the theater lobby, leaving the screaming reporters behind.

Five minutes later, Twitter exploded.

The hashtag BridieOrtegaEyeRoll shot to the number one trending spot in the United States.

GIFs of her eye roll flooded the timeline.

Regular users praised her. She said what we all want to say to our toxic exes.

Jory and Alaina's fans swarmed her mentions, calling her trash and a bitter loser.

Inside the lobby, Harriet stared at her phone. The analytics were off the charts. Harriet pressed her fingers to her temples, looking like she was in physical pain.

Harriet stomped over to Bridie. "Are you out of your mind? !" Harriet hissed.

Bridie casually took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. She took a slow sip.

"I just told the truth," Bridie said, shrugging.

She raised an eyebrow at Harriet. "Look on the bright side. I own the headlines tonight. Alaina didn't even get a scrap."

The premiere ended. The black Lincoln drove away from the theater, the inside of the car heavy with tension.

Bridie sank deep into the leather seat. She held her phone with both hands, her thumbs flying across the screen at lightning speed.

She was logged into her main verified Twitter account, fighting Jory and Alaina's fans in the replies.

A hater tweeted: You're just a jealous psycho.

Bridie replied instantly: Jealous of what? She looks like an unpeeled flamingo.

Another comment popped up: Your acting is garbage.

Bridie typed: My bad acting is still better than your idol's botox-filled zombie face.

Her blood was pumping. She opened her profile and changed her bio to: Forever young, forever speaking harshly.

Harriet sat next to her, watching the trending numbers climb higher. Harriet's face was red with high blood pressure.

Harriet lunged across the seat. She snatched the phone right out of Bridie's hands.

"Hey!" Bridie yelled, reaching for it. "I wasn't done destroying the one named 'Jory's Abs'!"

Harriet shoved the phone deep into her designer purse and snapped it shut. "You are banned from the internet for the rest of the night. If you post one more thing, I am tearing up your contract."

Bridie groaned. She slumped back against the window, running her hands through her styled hair in frustration.

Harriet sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Fine. I'll buy you dinner. Whatever you want. Just calm down."

Bridie's eyes instantly lit up. "K-Town. The most expensive Wagyu hotpot place."

The car made a sharp U-turn. Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the dark back alley of an exclusive restaurant in Koreatown.

Wearing black baseball caps and masks, they followed the waiter into a private, soundproof room.

A pot of boiling, spicy red broth was set on the table.

Bridie stared at the plates of perfectly marbled A5 Wagyu beef. Knowing she didn't have to pay for it made the knot in her chest loosen.

"Two bottles of Jinro soju!" Bridie yelled to the waiter.

"Bridie, no," Harriet warned.

But the waiter already placed the green bottles on the table. Bridie cracked one open and poured a full glass.

She tossed the alcohol back. The burn hit her throat, warming her stomach.

Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes grew cloudy and unfocused.

She shoved a piece of meat into her mouth and started slurring her words. "My dad is a capitalist dictator," she mumbled, slamming her glass on the table. "He threatened to cut off my black card if I step out of line! I'm walking on thin ice with zero freedom!"

Harriet sighed, picking up the tongs to cook more meat for her. Harriet just listened as Bridie complained.

Two hours later, Bridie was completely wasted. She laid her head on the sticky table, giggling to herself and muttering about making millions of dollars.

Harriet paid the massive bill. She grabbed Bridie by the arm and hauled her heavy, limp body up.

The driver helped shove Bridie into the backseat of the Lincoln.

The car drove smoothly to the edge of Beverly Hills, pulling into the underground garage of Bridie's apartment building.

Harriet dragged Bridie out of the car and pushed her into the private elevator that went straight to the penthouse.

"Go straight to bed," Harriet ordered, stepping back as the doors closed.

The elevator shot upward. Bridie leaned heavily against the metal wall, her eyes half-closed, watching the floor numbers blur together.

With a soft ding, the doors opened directly into her penthouse.

Bridie stumbled forward, her legs wobbling as she stepped out of the elevator.