The fire snapped and hissed, throwing sparks into the night.
Sasha's words still hung in the air: not everything is as real as it seems.
The circle shifted uneasily. Some contestants chuckled, others looked downright spooked. The cameras zoomed in, hungry for every twitch of emotion.
And then Chelsea pounced.
"Well," she said sweetly, her smile as sharp as broken glass, "isn't that convenient? Coming from the girl who's been sneaking around with the producers."
Gasps erupted.
Sasha froze, her blood turning to ice. "What did you just say?"
Chelsea leaned forward, her gaze glittering in the firelight. "Don't play dumb. You think no one noticed you slinking into offices at night? Whispering into your phone? Please. You're not clever. You're sloppy."
The circle buzzed. Contestants glanced at each other, suspicion sparking like wildfire. The producers didn't even try to cut it—this was drama they couldn't script better if they tried.
Ethan's head snapped toward Sasha. His eyes searched hers, desperate for an answer. "Is that true?"
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Because how could she explain? That she had been sneaking around, that there was a leak, that Chelsea's words were twisted but not entirely false?
Chelsea smiled wider, sensing blood. "See? She won't even deny it."
The cameras zoomed closer. The air crackled with tension, every second stretching into eternity.
Sasha felt the walls closing in. She'd thought the producers would force her to betray Ethan. But Chelsea—clever, ruthless Chelsea—was doing their job for them.
And worse—Ethan looked at her like he wasn't sure who she was anymore.