Scarlett's POV
The eviction notice crumpled in my hands like tissue paper. Three days. I had three days to come up with two thousand dollars or I'd be sleeping in my car.
"This can't be happening," I whispered to my empty apartment. The walls seemed to mock me with their bare patches where I'd already sold my paintings and mirror just to buy groceries last week.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Another rejection call, probably. I let it ring twice before picking up.
"Scarlett Rose speaking."
"Miss Rose, this is Amanda from Stellar Casting. We've decided to go with someone else for the toothpaste commercial."
The toothpaste commercial. Even the toothpaste people didn't want me.
"May I ask why?" My voice cracked like I was twelve years old again.
"Well, to be honest, the client felt your reputation might not align with their family-friendly brand."
My reputation. The words hit me like a slap. Three terrible movies and some bad press, and suddenly I was Hollywood poison.
"I understand. Thank you for letting me know."
I hung up and stared at the stack of bills on my coffee table. Electric bill. Phone bill. Student loans. Credit cards. Each one stamped with angry red letters: OVERDUE.
The apartment felt smaller every day, like the walls were slowly moving closer together. I used to dream of winning awards in this place. Now I dreamed of just paying rent.
My phone rang again. Luna's name flashed on the screen.
"Please tell me you have good news," I said, trying to sound hopeful instead of desperate.
"I might." Luna's voice was careful. "But you're not going to like it."
"At this point, I'll take anything. Dog food commercials, medical studies, I don't care."
"What about reality TV?"
I nearly dropped the phone. "Luna, no. Absolutely not."
"Hear me out. It's good money. Really good money."
"How good?" I hated myself for asking, but my empty bank account was doing the talking now.
"Fifty thousand dollars."
My heart stopped. Fifty thousand dollars. That would solve everything. Rent, bills, food, maybe even some left over to get my life back on track.
"What's the catch?" I asked, because there was always a catch.
Luna was quiet for a long moment. "It's called 'Love Island Dreams.' You'd be playing the villain."
"The villain?"
"The girl who breaks up couples. Causes drama. Makes the audience hate her."
I closed my eyes. "So I'd be playing myself."
"Scarlett, don't say that."
But it felt true. Everything I touched turned to disaster. Every relationship, every job, every chance I'd ever been given. Maybe being the villain was just being honest about who I really was.
"I need to think about it."
"The producer wants an answer by tonight. They start filming next week."
After Luna hung up, I walked to my bedroom and opened the closet. Three dresses hung there like ghosts of a better life. Everything else had been sold or pawned.
In the back corner sat a small box I hadn't opened in months. My hands shook as I lifted the lid. Inside were photos from college. Me laughing with friends. Me getting my first small acting role. Me with...
I slammed the box shut. Some memories were too painful to face.
My stomach growled, reminding me I'd eaten nothing but cereal for breakfast. I opened the refrigerator and stared at its empty shelves. Even the cereal was gone.
This was rock bottom. This was what failure looked like.
I picked up my phone and dialed Luna's number.
"I'll do it," I said before she could even say hello.
"Are you sure?"
"No. But I don't have a choice."
"Scarlett, maybe we should talk about this more. There might be other options—"
"There are no other options!" I shouted, then immediately felt terrible. Luna was trying to help me. She always tried to help me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."
"It's okay. You're scared."
"I'm terrified," I admitted. "But fifty thousand dollars could change everything. I could get back on my feet. Maybe even get some real auditions again."
"Okay. I'll call the producer."
Twenty minutes later, Luna was at my door with a thick contract in her hands.
"This is it," she said, spreading the pages across my coffee table. "Read through everything carefully."
The contract was full of legal words I didn't understand. Phrases like "exclusive rights to footage" and "behavioral requirements" and "penalty fees for early departure."
"What does this part mean?" I pointed to a section about penalty fees.
"If you quit before filming ends, you have to pay them fifty thousand dollars."
My blood turned cold. "So if I sign this, I'm trapped?"
"You're committed," Luna said gently. "But Scarlett, you don't have to do this. We could find another way."
"What other way?" I laughed, but it sounded more like crying. "I've auditioned for everything in this city. Nobody wants me."
Luna sat beside me and took my hand. "You're a good person. You're talented. This rough patch won't last forever."
"What if it does? What if this is just who I am now? The actress who couldn't make it."
"Then we figure it out together. But playing the villain on reality TV... that's not you."
"Maybe it is me," I said quietly. "Maybe I've been pretending to be someone else this whole time."
Luna squeezed my hand. "The Scarlett I know would never hurt innocent people for money."
"The Scarlett you know is broke and desperate and out of options."
I picked up the pen with shaking fingers. The signature line looked like a cliff I was about to jump off.
"You don't have to decide right now," Luna said.
But my phone was buzzing with another bill collector. My stomach was empty. My apartment would be gone in three days.
I signed my name quickly, before I could change my mind.
"There," I said, pushing the contract toward Luna. "It's done."
Luna looked at the signature, then at me. "I'll fax this to the producer right now. They want you in Malibu tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow? That's so fast."
"Reality TV moves quickly. They said someone will pick you up at eight AM."
After Luna left, I sat alone in my apartment and wondered what I'd just done. In less than twenty-four hours, I'd be playing the most hated person on television.
But fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand dollars could save my life.
My phone rang one more time. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Scarlett Rose? This is Jake Morrison, producer of Love Island Dreams. Congratulations on joining our cast."
His voice made my skin crawl. Too smooth, too friendly.
"Thank you."
"I think you're going to be perfect for what we need. America is going to love hating you."
"Great," I said, trying to sound confident.
"One more thing. We've made a last-minute addition to the male cast. Someone who's going to make your job very interesting."
"What do you mean?"
Jake laughed, but it wasn't a nice sound. "Let's just say your past is about to catch up with you in a very public way. See you tomorrow, Scarlett. This is going to be fun."
The line went dead.
My hands started shaking. What did he mean about my past? What had I just signed up for?
In less than twenty-four hours, I'd find out.
And I had a terrible feeling I was going to regret every signature on that contract.