By dawn, the villa was unrecognizable.
Producers buzzed like hornets, cameras repositioned, lights adjusted. Contestants whispered over coffee, throwing Sasha and Ethan side glances like they were radioactive.
The bonfire scene had detonated online overnight. Clips of Ethan's confession trended across Twitter, TikTok, and gossip sites. Headlines screamed:
"Golden Boy Confesses Love!""Villain Redeemed?""Real Romance or Ratings Ploy?"
The network smelled blood—and profit.
By mid-morning, Sasha and Ethan were summoned to the "confessional set," a plush room designed to look casual but bristling with hidden mics and cameras. The producer smiled like a wolf.
"Beautiful moment last night," she cooed. "We're leaning into it. The audience is obsessed. So today, we'll start your official couple arc."
Sasha stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Ethan's jaw tensed. "We didn't agree to that."
The producer's smile didn't falter. "It's not about what you agree to. It's about what sells. From now on, you two are our centerpiece. Romantic dates, heart-to-hearts, the works. Give the people what they want."
Sasha's stomach churned. They weren't celebrating Ethan's words—they were caging them. Twisting something raw, maybe even real, into another script.
And worse—the other contestants wouldn't miss the shift. They'd see Sasha and Ethan not just as rivals, but as threats hogging the spotlight.
On the way out of the set, Ethan caught Sasha's hand, his grip tight. "We can't let them control this," he whispered. "Not again."
But before she could answer, Chelsea's voice rang out from across the villa.
"Well, well. The happy couple." Her smirk was poison. "Better hope the audience likes fairy tales—because in here?" She leaned close enough only Sasha could hear. "I'm going to make sure yours ends in flames."