"I'm dead, Babe!" I clutched my burner phone, frantically typing a message to Julian. "I'm at the reality show taping, but they confiscated our phones!" Julian replied instantly: "So what? Just be a good little trophy and don't get any wild ideas." "But... the wallpaper on that phone is a spicy photo of you!" ... "WHAT?!" 1 Julian fired back a barrage of texts. "I haven't seen you in a month and this is the surprise you give me?" "Is my face in it? Can people tell it's me?" [Voice Message 60”] [Voice Message 60”] "Go tell the production team you need it back. Right now." "No, steal it back. Don't let anyone see you." "Forget it, I'll steal it. I swear, I have never been this embarrassed in my life." "Where are you filming? Send the location." "Hello? Answer me." I crouched behind a pitch-black tent, staring intensely at the screen. The location pin spun in circles. No signal. I couldn't even receive Julian's messages anymore. I was sweating bullets. Suddenly, the camp loudspeaker blared. "Announcement: Chloe Evans has brought a contraband phone, violating Island Rule Number One." "Penalty: Team Three is responsible for tomorrow's breakfast." I watched, dumbfounded, as the director, wearing a ghillie suit, popped out of the bushes. He grinned wickedly. "I knew someone wasn't playing fair. Caught you, Chloe! Here's your mission card. Beach assembly, 5:00 AM sharp." I took the card. A camera shoved into my face, magnifying my guilt and my frozen, fake smile by ten times. Just then, a video call rang out, loud and clear. I scrambled to answer. Julian’s voice was on the edge of an explosion. "Hello? Where the hell are you traveling that they confiscate phones? Is this show even legal?" "Why aren't you talking? Scared now? What were you thinking setting that as your wallpaper?" The director sniffed gossip. Who would I be secretly contacting at midnight? 2 The camera light was blinding, like an interrogation lamp trying to find a crack in my mask. The director urged me on. "Chloe, it's the rules. The whole country is watching." My acting skills are floor-level, but I had to protect my rice bowl. I straightened my back and flashed a polite smile. I spoke into the phone: "The dog probably just misses me, that's why he's making a mess. Uncle Jules, just wash the bedding and remember to walk him." Julian went silent for two seconds. Then, pure shock and rage: "Chloe, are you treating me like a dog sitter? Have you forgotten who pays the bills?" My heart trembled. I calmly ended the conversation. "Okay, gotta go. I'll be back in seven days. Bye." I hung up before he could respond. That was the first time in my life I’d ever hung up on Julian. The thrill was intoxicating. The director took my burner phone and left on a boat. I returned to the campsite, where my two teammates looked ready to eat me alive. Jax, a former boy-band idol wearing a khaki windbreaker, asked tentatively, "Chloe, does this mean at 5 AM tomorrow, we have no hair and makeup, no breakfast, and we have to go fishing with headlamps?" I smiled at him. "Yup." Sienna, a rising starlet wrapped in a blanket, looked furious. "Didn't we hand in our phones together before getting on the island? How did you get caught with one?" I smiled at her too. "I had a burner." Sienna sneered. "The rules were clear. You did this on purpose for screen time, didn't you?" 3 Hand to God. I swear on Julian's bank account, I didn't do it on purpose. I use the burner for work and my main phone for my personal life. To please my "boss," my entire persona is "lovesick girlfriend." I fold the wrapping paper from his gifts into origami cranes. (Okay, my assistant folds them.) Setting his photo as my wallpaper is basic etiquette. As for why it’s a naked photo... Let’s just say Julian’s physique is top-tier. Professional model level. Defined abs, tight waist, powerful thighs. It’s a view. As for his face, which usually looks like I owe him eight million dollars? Don't worry, I cropped it out. Sienna clearly didn't believe me. She was already grumpy about not being allowed back to the hotel. Now that the cameras were off, her disgust was unfiltered. "I don't know why a resource-waster like you came to a survival show. You're just a burden. Go do the punishment yourself." 4 Seven years in the industry, and I was immune to sarcasm. I smiled. "Sorry, too much business to handle, I forgot." Sienna rolled her eyes. "What are you so proud of? You just have a pretty face. When Julian gets bored of you, you'll be nothing." Jax was brutally honest. "Chloe, let's keep some distance. I'm building a 'man of the people' image. I don't want to get dragged down." They turned and went into their tents, treating me like a plague. They weren't wrong. Most of the industry knew my backer was Julian, the CEO of Wenxin Entertainment. Thanks to him, I was acting alongside Oscar-winner Elena before I even finished high school. Seven years. The resources never stopped. Neither did the hate. An old interview clip of me at fifteen gets dissected constantly. "I want to be a movie star." That sentence became a boomerang. "Movie Star" became my ironic nickname, and my acting skills were the punchline. Honestly, I wasn't trying to be Meryl Streep. With this face and Julian's traffic, doing variety shows and sweet dramas paid well enough. But I took this hardcore survival show for a reason. Julian's "white moonlight"—his first love—came back last month. Elena, the A-list Movie Queen, returned from conquering Hollywood. He was busy throwing resources at her. He didn't have time for his canary. I just wanted to make some money on the side. Who knew I’d screw up on day one? When the director collected phones during makeup, my agent handed over the one on the table without thinking. When I realized the phone in my pocket was the burner, I froze. Because the main phone—the one now in the director's possession—had a wallpaper of Julian’s bare hip and waist. It happened one night when Julian got a business call and didn't have time to grab a robe. He stood by the bed, arguing in fluent business English. He woke me up. Annoyed, I took dozens of photos of his sculpted waist. The camera panned up. Julian’s sharp eyes looked at me, half-smiling. He allowed it. He even allowed me to sit on his lap while he talked, testing the camera's image stabilization. After the call, he gripped my ankle and whispered, "Who do you want to show this to? Hmm? Chloe, a canary should stay in its cage. Don't push it." I begged for mercy. Since then, those photos stayed locked in a hidden album. I never thought they’d be at risk of a public reveal.
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