"Take it easy, Sammy. I'm sure everything will die down soon. You just need to stop reading it," Tara said calmly.
Sammy didn't respond.
Her fingers trembled as she scrolled, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She adored her name, worshipped it, even. To see it dragged through mud, twisted and mocked, felt like someone clawing at her skin.
After this mess, the shipping would definitely stop.
That was what hurt most.
The attention, the speculation, the whispers, it all fed her popularity. Now, it was on the brink of collapse.
Her eyes sharpened suddenly.
She knew what to do.
There was no way she would let that new actress take anything from her.
"What has Charlotte been up to lately?" Sammy asked, her voice low and dangerous as she slammed her laptop onto the floor.
Tara flinched. "She secured an endorsement deal with the Kairon brand," she said. "The one you rejected."
Sammy laughed bitterly. Of course.
Those people had approached her first, but she'd dismissed them. Too small. Too insignificant. Besides, her schedule was already packed.
"Contact them," Sammy said coldly. "Tell them I'm taking it."
Tara shook her head immediately. "That's not a good idea. Charlotte won't take it quietly. She's not someone you want to provoke."
"Shut the f*ck up and do as I said!" Sammy screamed.
"No," Tara replied firmly. "We'll find another way. Just not that."
Sammy spun toward her. "You! I'll fire you!"
"You won't," Tara said without missing a beat. "Stop letting this consume you. I'll handle your fans, but not now. If you try to stop them immediately, it'll look suspicious."
She continued evenly, "Give it a day or two. They'll calm down. Then we reason with them."
Sammy clenched her fists.
"If you take that project from her, Charlotte will retaliate," Tara added. "She's cunning. She'll expose it, and things will spiral further."
Sammy's eyes darkened.
"Then kill her," she growled. "I don't want her anywhere near Brian. Kill her."
Tara didn't blink. "That's… a possible solution. I'll see to it."
Sammy looked like she'd lost weight overnight. Her face was hollow, her eyes sunken. She couldn't believe things had turned this way, all because of a poor girl who should've been easy to crush.
---
Brian sat alone in his villa.
The living room was awash in white walls, furniture, curtains, everything pristine and controlled. Framed artwork lined the walls, along with photographs of himself, frozen in carefully curated perfection.
He sat with one leg crossed over the other, golden eyes clouded, a frown etched deeply into his face. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth.
He wore a sheer white long-sleeved shirt, clinging to his body, revealing the contours of his skin and the hard lines of his abs beneath.
During the shoot, Olivia hadn't just winked at him.
She'd harassed him.
When they were instructed to hug, her fingers traced and tickled his back. When they were meant to gaze into each other's eyes, she licked her lips, slowly, deliberately.
This wasn't the girl he'd slept with.
People changed, but not like this.
Michael had told him how Emma couldn't even meet his gaze during their first meeting. How embarrassed she'd been.
Brian replayed everything, her appearance in his hotel room, her silence, her obedience.
He'd concluded she was a simple girl following her manager's instructions.
But this?
This version of her was different.
Something was wrong.
He should've been angry. Any other time, he would've been.
But he wasn't.
Instead, guilt wrapped tightly around his chest.
He could've stopped it.
The prop gun he'd used after could've been used before.
He knew he'd crossed a line.
And worse, he didn't let things go easily.
He didn't want to pity her.
But he did.
The memory refused to leave him. All Brian could do was use the guilt to push away the lingering memory of how intoxicating she had looked while naked in front of him. He didn't want to think about how despite his self control, a stranger had unraveled him so much.
Maybe… if she gained fame from this movie, he could let go of that guilt. If she got something valuable, something worthy, then perhaps the imbalance would feel less suffocating.
It would never be equal.
But it was what Emma wanted.
The door opened.
Brian's head snapped up as Michael walked in, holding a bouquet of lilies in one hand and roses in the other, a relaxed smile on his face.
"I'm not confessing my love," Michael said cheerfully. "These are from your fans. Gifts and apology letters. Lots of them."
Brian frowned. "Who offended me?"
Michael burst out laughing, so hard Brian had to throw a pillow at him before he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Brian wasn't wearing his usual cold mask tonight. Inside his own space, he was just a man, and Michael wasn't a manager here, but family.
"I'm scared of you, Brian," Michael said, wiping tears from his eyes.
He explained everything, the accusations, the fan wars, the outrage over someone "tainting" Brian's name.
"I swear," Michael added, still amused, "they'd help you rule the world if you asked."
Brian didn't smile.
There was too much pity mixed into that devotion.
And pity, he knew, was the most dangerous form of love