The air in the trailer changed the moment the door clicked open. Maya, still hunched over the script with a red pen in hand, didn't even have time to look up before a sharp, designer heel stepped onto the linoleum floor.
Cynthia Vane didn't walk; she prowled. She leaned against the doorframe, her neon-green juice held like a scepter. Without the cameras rolling, the "pop princess" facade dropped, revealing a gaze that was cold, calculating, and predatory.
"So," Cynthia drawled, her eyes raking over Maya's baggy trench coat and messy bun with visible disgust. "You're the little 'consultant' Julian is so obsessed with. I have to say, I expected... more. Or at least someone with a better tailor."
Maya straightened her spine, clutching her fountain pen. "I'm here to do a job, Cynthia. I don't think my outfit is part of the contract."
"Oh, sweetie, everything is part of the contract when you're dealing with a man like Julian," Cynthia said, stepping deeper into the small space. She leaned over the desk, her face inches from Maya's. "Let's be very clear: Julian is a brand. A brand that I am currently co-starring with. Our fans want us together. My label wants us together. And most importantly, I want him."
"He isn't a trophy," Maya whispered, her heart beginning to thrum with that familiar anxiety.
"He's an investment," Cynthia hissed. "And you? You're a distraction. If you don't pack up your little notebook and vanish back into whatever library you crawled out of, I will ruin you. I have millions of followers who would love to know who the 'plain Jane' is that's trying to ruin Julian's reputation. I'll dig up your life, your family, your secrets. I'll make sure you never work in this industry again."
Maya felt a chill. Cynthia didn't know about M.K. Thorne yet, but she was a bloodhound. If she started digging, the mask would shatter.
"Back off," Cynthia warned, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibrate. "He's mine. You're just a footnote."
The Digital Firestorm
Before Maya could respond, the trailer door swung open again. An assistant poked their head in, looking pale. "Cynthia? You need to see this. It's... it's already out."
Cynthia smirked, checking her phone. Maya's own phone, sitting on the desk, suddenly erupted.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
A waterfall of notifications flooded her lock screen.
TMZ: Who is the Mystery Woman in Julian Cross's trailer? Is the 'Paradox' front-man off the market?
Twitter: #GhostGirl is trending again. Fans link the Cabo 'Ghost' to a new woman on the set of Julian's video.
Chloe (Text): MAYA! TELL ME THAT ISN'T YOUR SHADOW IN THE WINDOW! THE INTERNET IS TEARING THE PHOTO APART!
Maya stared at the screen. The photo Cynthia had taken was grainy, but the silhouette was unmistakable—the height difference, the way they had been leaning toward each other. The "Ghost Girl" from Cabo was being revived, and the digital vultures were circling.
Cynthia let out a dry, triumphant laugh. "Looks like the hunt has started, 'Maya.' You have about ten minutes before the paparazzi realize which exit leads to this trailer. If I were you, I'd run. But then again, you're good at that, aren't you?"
Maya looked at her notebook—the one Julian still hadn't returned—and then at the door. Her worst nightmare was coming true. She wasn't just a writer anymore; she was a target.
Reflection & Next Steps
The walls are closing in. Maya's anonymity is hanging by a thread, and Julian is still stuck on the set, unaware that the photo has leaked.