Chapter 1 – Career in Ruins
The glow of her laptop screen was the only light in Alexis Harper's apartment, bleaching her face pale as she stared at the headline.
"Alexis Harper Fails to Impress in Latest Role — Talent? Questionable at Best."
Her stomach knotted so sharply she felt sick. It wasn't the first time. It wasn't even the worst review she'd ever had. But the words struck like a stone thrown at a window already spider-cracked with fractures. All it would take was one more hit and she'd shatter completely.
Her fingers hovered above the trackpad, trembling slightly, as if closing the page might erase the judgment. She scrolled instead, her eyes dragging down paragraphs that were both clinical and cruel. The critic dissected her performance, line by line, scene by scene, before concluding with a sentence that burned: "Harper's career is a masterclass in squandered potential."
Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to lean back in her chair. A deep breath. Another. The familiar ache in her shoulders spread down her spine, but it wasn't just physical. Ten years she had fought to keep her place in an industry that loved to eat women alive. Ten years of dazzling premieres and humiliating failures. Ten years of clinging to a dream that kept slipping further from her grasp.
Once, she'd been the promising starlet. The face critics called "fresh, magnetic, impossible to ignore." She remembered the dizzying thrill of her first breakout role, an indie darling that had earned her more attention than she'd known what to do with. Red carpets. Designer dresses borrowed for the night. A tiny gold statuette from a film festival that had felt like a promise of greater things.
And then came the second film. The one that bombed so badly she'd hidden in her apartment for weeks, unable to face the headlines. The third hadn't been much better. By the fifth, casting directors smiled at her with the polite pity of someone offering condolences at a funeral.
Now, ten years in, she wasn't the fresh face anymore. She was the cautionary tale.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, shattering the silence. Alexis startled, heart thudding, and snatched it up before she saw the name. Lila. Her manager.
She thought of letting it ring out, but the idea of hearing Lila's voicemail—brisk, demanding, relentlessly optimistic—was worse. She swiped to answer.
"Alexis," Lila said without preamble, her voice all caffeinated energy. "Sit down."
Alexis gave a dry laugh. "Already am."
"Good. Because you're going to want to scream at me, then thank me, then maybe fire me."
"Tempting already," Alexis muttered.
"There's an offer," Lila barreled on. "A reality show. One of those competitive dating things. Big mansion, cameras everywhere, glossy production. They want you."
For a second, Alexis thought she'd misheard. "You're joking."
"I never joke about contracts."
Alexis pinched the bridge of her nose. A reality show. The kind of spectacle she avoided watching, let alone appearing on. "Why me?"
"Because you're exactly what they want," Lila said bluntly. "You've got history. People know your name, even if it's for the wrong reasons. You're beautiful. You're unpredictable. You can stir drama without even trying. In other words—you're ratings gold."
Alexis let out a humorless laugh. "So I'm supposed to humiliate myself on national TV, make out with strangers, and throw drinks at people, all for the chance to resurrect my career?"
"That's the gist of it." Lila's tone softened, just slightly. "Look, Alexis. You're running out of chances. Casting directors don't call anymore. The press doesn't care unless you mess up. This could... it could flip the script. People love a comeback story. You give them fire, give them vulnerability, and suddenly you're not a has-been, you're a survivor. You're a woman who refuses to go down quietly."
The words pierced her defenses more than she wanted to admit. A survivor. She wanted that to be true.
"I don't know," Alexis said quietly.
"Think fast," Lila urged. "They want an answer tomorrow morning. And Alexis? If you pass... I don't know if another chance is coming."
The call ended, leaving her in silence again. Alexis set the phone down, hands trembling slightly. Her chest felt hollow.
She got up and moved to the window, staring out at the city. Los Angeles glittered in the distance, a mirage of opportunity and betrayal. It had given her everything once, and taken it all back.
The thought of walking into that mansion, of living in front of cameras for weeks, made her stomach twist. She imagined the humiliation, the gossip, the inevitable edits designed to turn her into the villain or the desperate has-been. And yet... somewhere under the nausea, there was a flicker of something dangerous. Hope.
Her phone buzzed again, a text this time.
Mia.
"Hey. You okay? Haven't heard from you all day."
Alexis typed slowly: "Bad review. Feeling... invisible."
The reply came instantly.
"You're not invisible. You're Alexis fucking Harper. You light up a room when you walk in. They can't ignore that forever."
Alexis pressed her lips together, eyes stinging. Mia had always been the one person who believed in her without condition. But belief didn't pay rent. Belief didn't land auditions. Belief didn't erase headlines like "Career in Ruins."
She wandered back to her desk, pulled out the old leather-bound notebook she hadn't touched in years. She flipped it open and wrote two words across the top of a blank page:
"Option A."
Underneath: "Do nothing. Fade away. Disappear quietly."
She turned the page.
"Option B."
"Reality show. Chaos. Humiliation. But maybe redemption. Maybe control. Risk everything. Gain... what?"
Her pen hovered. What did she want to gain? A second chance? Respect? Or just proof that she wasn't finished, that she still had fight left in her?
Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room. The reflection staring back at her looked older than she remembered. High cheekbones, sharp jawline, green eyes that had once been called captivating now rimmed with exhaustion. But there was still a spark there, buried under the fatigue.
"You can do this," she whispered. "You have to."
Her phone chimed again. Another text from Lila.
"Decision time. The world is waiting."
Alexis stared at the screen, heart pounding. For the first time in years, she felt that reckless tremor of possibility. Terror and excitement, twined together.
She typed one word back.
"Yes."
Her phone buzzed with the confirmation link, the contract attachment, the schedule. A world was opening before her, terrifying and irresistible.
And then, unbidden, another thought crept in. Him.
She hadn't spoken his name in three years. Hadn't let herself think about the way he looked at her, the way his hands had once felt on her skin. She had buried him, blocked him, erased him. But as she imagined stepping into that mansion, surrounded by cameras and strangers, a single possibility chilled her.
What if he was there?
Her chest tightened, breath shallow. If he was... she didn't know whether she'd break, or burn brighter than ever.
She closed the laptop, pushed the notebook aside, and stood at the window again. Los Angeles shimmered like a siren's call. Maybe this was the only way forward. Maybe she had to walk straight into the fire to see if she could survive the flames.
When her phone buzzed once more with the final confirmation—"Welcome to the game, Alexis Harper"—she didn't hesitate. She pressed her thumb to the screen and sealed her fate.
For the first time in years, her heart beat not with dread, but with dangerous, intoxicating anticipation. Whatever waited for her in that mansion, she was ready.
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