Sasha Leigh had stopped reading her reviews three years ago.
Not because she didn't care, but because every word was the same: flat performance, poor emotional range, another desperate attempt to stay relevant.
Once upon a time, she thought being cast as the villain's seductive assistant in a blockbuster action flick was her ticket to stardom. Instead, the tabloids called her "Hollywood's one-scene disaster." From there, the spiral was quick: a rom-com that flopped on release day, an indie drama critics shredded, and one unfortunate late-night interview where her nervous laughter was mistaken for arrogance.
Now, ten years after her debut, Sasha wasn't at the bottom of the food pyramid—she was the carcass picked clean.
"Look, Sasha," her manager, Gloria, said, tapping her tablet against the café table with too much energy for 8 a.m. "You need a rebrand. Something bold. Something that shows you don't take yourself too seriously."
"I don't," Sasha muttered, sipping burnt coffee. "That's why I'm sitting here broke with you instead of in a Malibu mansion."
Gloria ignored her. "There's a new dating reality series filming next month. Big network. Huge streaming deal. You'll be a contestant."
Sasha raised an eyebrow. "As myself? Or as some… tragic character?"
Gloria grinned, the kind of grin that meant Sasha was about to hate everything that followed.
"You'll play the pick-me girl."
Sasha blinked. "The what now?"
"The girl everyone loves to hate. You'll swoop in, interrupt, flirt with the guys who are already paired up. The audience will throw popcorn at their screens—but they'll be talking about you."
Sasha laughed, bitter and short. "So… you want me to be a national punchline?"
"Sweetheart, you already are. Might as well monetize it."
For once, Sasha didn't have the energy to argue. Maybe Gloria was right. Maybe this was all she had left. Her reputation couldn't sink lower, so why not let the producers script her into oblivion?
"Fine," Sasha said, tossing the empty coffee cup. "Sign me up for hell."
She regretted those words the moment the cast list was leaked.
Because there, in black-and-white on every gossip site, was a name she hadn't allowed herself to even think about in three years.
Ethan Hale.
Her ex-boyfriend. The man she ghosted without a goodbye, blocked on every platform, and left staring at a silence she never explained.
And now, he was going to be her co-star—her love interest—her scripted rival, all wrapped into one.
Sasha closed her laptop with shaking hands.
"Oh God," she whispered. "I'm screwed."