My novel about a secret high school crush went totally viral, and the film rights were snapped up almost immediately. Then, Cole Sterling—an Oscar-winning actor who had stepped away from Hollywood for years—suddenly dropped a bombshell on Twitter, announcing he was taking the male lead. The internet exploded. Netizens quickly dug up the fact that Cole had a "one that got away" back in high school. And the rising "It girl" cast as the female lead? She just so happened to graduate from Westbridge High, too. Overnight, the shippers lost their minds. The whole internet was waiting for this "second-chance romance" novel to bleed into reality. At the press conference, a reporter deliberately asked: "Mr. Sterling, if you had to choose a word to describe our leading lady, what would it be? An angel? A muse?" Cole suddenly raised his eyes, looked directly at me standing in the wings, and said coldly: "A liar." "Excuse me?" The reporter froze. Cole calmly looked away. "I said, she's a liar." 1 The table read. "In the original book, the two leads clearly love each other. Why did they have a tragic ending?" someone whispered at the table. Cole’s fingertips traced heavily over the script page. He spoke coldly. "I'm quite curious about that myself." I looked up in shock, then quickly lowered my head. Cole didn't push the question. His gaze returned to the script. I shifted further into the corner, clutching my phone, trying to make myself invisible. Twitter was melting down. Under the trending hashtags #ColeSterlingReturns and #SecondChanceCast, a blurry high school yearbook photo was being reposted thousands of times. In the photo, a seventeen-year-old Cole was ignoring the camera, his intense gaze fixed on a specific spot off-screen. And in that blurry, out-of-focus corner of the frame was the slender back of a teenage girl. "This is definitely not a coincidence! Cole and Sierra Fontaine both went to Westbridge High!" "I remember Sierra had short hair in high school! That girl has to be her." "Fiction becoming reality! I'm screaming, I ship them so hard." The assistant director sitting next to me nudged my elbow, winking like a gossip. "Are you shipping them too?" "No, I just happened to see it on my timeline..." "Wait, I just remembered you went to Westbridge High too! Tell me, did the A-lister really have a crush on a girl back then?" I quietly locked my phone screen and looked up. "Cole and I... we weren't close." Right at that moment, the director called cut. Cole lifted his heavy eyelids. Across the crowded room, his eyes locked onto mine. The director hesitated. "Cole, your energy is a bit off here. This is their big reunion scene. The way you look at the female lead should be a mix of love and burning resentment... Harper, wouldn't you agree?" I hurriedly looked away and cleared my throat. "Yes." "Harper, as the screenwriter, I feel the emotional beat here is wrong," Cole smirked, but his eyes were pure ice. "Why don't you teach me?" Everyone’s eyes slammed into me. The director chimed in: "Sierra's flight was delayed, she's not here yet. Harper, why don't you stand in and run the lines with him?" "I don't think that's appropriate. I don't know how to act." I waved my hands, forcing an awkward smile. Cole spoke flatly, "I have an interview tonight. I'm on a tight schedule." Eager to please him, the director shoved my shoulder, urging me up with his eyes. I was forced to stand. Cole instantly closed the distance between us. The script clearly said the male lead grabs the female lead's wrist. Instead, his hand clamped around the back of my neck. He pulled me in, whispering harshly against my ear: "When you dumped me, you didn't have this pathetic look on your face, did you?" "If I recall correctly, you were smiling." My breath hitched. The script slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a smack. Maybe the AC was turned too low, but I felt my entire body trembling. "Why did you leave back then?" He pulled back slightly, his dialogue completely deviating from the script. "Answer me!" Cole pinned me against the wall, his hands slamming on either side of my head. His knuckles were white from the force. His chest was heaving as if a fire was burning through his ribs. My heart stuttered. My eyelashes fluttered wildly. "I'm sorry..." Cole’s Adam's apple bobbed. He forcibly swallowed the emotions that were threatening to tear his chest apart. "I'm only going to ask you one thing." "Did you ever actually love me?" he gritted out, his eyes rimmed red. The room held its breath. The director yelled from the monitors: "Yes! That's the energy! Hold onto that, Cole!" I opened my mouth, my throat bone-dry. "I..." The red light on the camera suddenly flipped on. The heavy doors swung open, and Sierra Fontaine walked in with her entourage. The courage I had just mustered to speak was instantly shattered. "I am so sorry I'm late!" Sierra chimed. "I bought artisanal lattes for everyone to make up for it!" The director pulled off his headphones. "Alright, we'll stop there for now. That take was absolutely perfect!" The crew cheered and swarmed the new arrivals. I was still frozen against the wall, my chest hollow. Cole suddenly chuckled. His thumb casually brushed against the small red birthmark on the side of my neck. Back in high school, he always joked that even in our next life, he would be able to find me by this exact mark. Now, his warm breath fanned across that very spot. "Screenwriter Harper." "Acting like that feels much more real, doesn't it?" I snapped back to reality and sluggishly took a half-step back. "You? You look so familiar." Sierra’s gaze stopped the moment it swept over me. "Have we met before?" I stared back at her. "A long time ago. Yes." "Oh, I'm so sorry, I must have forgotten." Sierra shrugged, not caring in the slightest. "Want a latte? It's hot." She casually grabbed a cup and handed it to me. I instinctively flinched, pulling my neck back. My face went chalk-white. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "I'm fine. Just been standing too long." "Make sure you get some rest! If you need any meds, just ask my assistant. My trailer is fully stocked." She turned her back to me, pulled a separate insulated bag from her assistant, and walked toward Cole with a bright smile. "Your coffee. The usual. Cold brew, no ice." Just a few words, but it practically screamed intimacy. "Thanks." As Cole stepped back to take it, I caught sight of the diamond ring on Sierra’s ring finger. It was the exact same design as the one the paparazzi had caught Cole buying at a luxury jeweler just days ago. The assistant director leaned over to me, letting out a suppressed squeal and shaking my shoulders. "That coffee shop is all the way downtown! The line takes two hours minimum. O-M-G. Her flight was delayed and she still went out of her way to get him his specific drink!" "Harper! I knew my ship was real." "Tell me the truth, are they the inspiration for your novel? At the press con, he already admitted he's the male lead. Stop keeping us in suspense!" I lowered my eyes and said softly, "If I told you the female lead was actually based on me, would you believe it?" The AD let out a loud "Ha!" "Harper, I didn't know you were one of his delusional fangirls!" "No wonder you don't ship them." I watched their matching silhouettes under the studio spotlights, suddenly grateful I hadn't blurted out the truth in the heat of the moment. The gap between us was too vast. Even the truth sounded like a pathetic joke. "Well, at least you got to meet your crush. Oh, right, what did Cole mean at the press conference when he called you a liar? Was that just a PR stunt to build hype?" I took a deep breath, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. "He... wasn't lying." Ten years ago, I really was the one who lied to him first. 2 Sierra had to reshoot a drowning scene. "A stunt double?" The director frowned. "This is the climax where the female lead gets bullied. We need your face..." Sierra’s manager immediately changed her tune. "Director, Sierra is getting her period soon. Putting her in freezing water for the next two days will be agonizing for her." "But we didn't prep a water stunt double. Finding one now will put us behind schedule." Sierra tugged on her assistant's hand and turned to the director. "Director, my manager is just worried about me, please forgive her tone." "How about this? I'll suck it up and do the close-ups in the water." Sierra looked me up and down. "For the wide shots of the actual drowning, let the screenwriter stand in for me. She's the only one here with a similar build." Her manager chimed in coldly. "Director, Cole only signed onto this project for Sierra. If she gets sick, can you take responsibility?" Classic good cop, bad cop. The director looked torn. "I still need to ask Harper if she's comfortable with it." Sierra smiled sweetly at me. "Please, Harper? Pretty please?" "I heard you helped run lines with Cole the other day. Why won't you help me? Aww, are you trying to isolate me?" "I'm sorry, I'm not a trained professional. Going on camera isn't appropriate." "It's fine, it's just a wide shot. I'll teach you!" Sierra stood up from her director's chair. She approached me with a beaming smile—and suddenly shoved me hard in the chest. Caught completely off guard, I lost my balance and plunged backward into the pool. The deep autumn water felt like a million icy needles. The moment I went under, the memory overlapped with that day I was seventeen, being violently shoved into the deep end of the high school pool. Blind panic swallowed me whole. I thrashed wildly, but my limbs felt bound by invisible ropes, heavy and useless. Water rushed in from everywhere, filling my nose, ears, and throat. Sierra’s delighted laughter grew muffled and distorted. The director realized something was wrong and signaled the lifeguard, but Sierra stopped him. "Wow, she's such a good actress!" "It looks so real!" The world blurred. The light cutting through the surface of the water shattered like broken glass across my vision. Right as I was on the brink of suffocating... Sierra grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled my head above the surface. She leaned in close to my ear and smiled. "Don't think I don't know what you cheap sluts are plotting." "Stay away from Cole." "Or next time, I'll actually kill you." My lungs burned like they were on fire. I coughed violently, unable to string a single word together. "Harper, are you okay?" Sierra shoved my head back under the water, giggling. "Director, don't yell cut! You'll ruin her performance. Let's get one more take for safety!" I sucked in a desperate breath, grabbed her wrists with both hands, and yanked her down into the pool with me. "Help—" Sierra tried to scream, but only spat out a string of bubbles. "Quick, the life preserver!" "Sierra can't swim!" "Somebody help! Sierra's drowning!" The crew on the deck erupted into chaos. I locked my arms around Sierra and refused to let go. Over the frantic footsteps, I heard a crew member's shocked voice: "Why is Mr. Sterling back from his press tour early?" "Wait, Cole, you can't jump in!" Sierra kicked me hard. "Cole, I'm over here—!" The heel of her designer boot dug into my stomach. A piercing pain shot through me. I sank deeper, my consciousness slipping away into the dark. 3 The sharp smell of antiseptic invaded my nose. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the champagne-gold curtains of Cole’s private trailer. "You're awake?" He immediately reached out to check my forehead. "Your fever hasn't broken. I'll have the set medic come back." "Don't bother." I tried to sit up, only to realize his other hand was pinning down my right wrist—the one with the IV drip. Right over the faded, circular burn scar left by Sierra putting out a cigarette on my skin years ago. "The doctor said you have old injuries all over your body. Not just this one." He suddenly spoke. "What exactly happened back then?" My breathing stopped. My memory rewound to that suffocating, humid afternoon. Curled up inside a metal locker in the girls' changing room, counting the slivers of light coming through the vents, listening to Sierra and her squad discuss how they were going to "teach me a lesson" in the deep end of the pool. Cole’s crucial Juilliard audition was in two days. Because of that, I chose to hide my soaked, ruined uniform at the very bottom of my backpack and say nothing. "You're overthinking it." I heard my own voice trembling. The air in the trailer instantly froze. Cole aggressively grabbed my chin, his grip so tight it felt like he might shatter the bone. A dark storm raged in his eyes. The calm, refined facade he wore for the public completely shattered. "Harper Ellis, what the hell do you take me for?" I looked at the shiny new ring impression on his ring finger and suddenly let out a laugh. I laughed so hard the salty taste of tears slid into the corner of my mouth. "In what capacity are you interrogating me right now, Mr. Sterling? My ex-boyfriend? Someone else's fiancé? Or an A-list actor handing out charity?" His pupils contracted sharply. "What the hell are you talking about?" The moment he let go of my chin, the trailer door burst open. "Cole!" Sierra rushed in, wrapped in a plush blanket, pathetic, beautiful tears hanging from her lashes. "I thought I was never going to see you again..." The diamond ring on her finger caught the light, stinging my retinas. "Why did the screenwriter drag me into the water?" She exposed the purpling bruises on her pale arms. "Did I do something wrong? Did I make her mad?" "Security footage," I interrupted her sobbing. "The set has 24-hour surveillance." Sierra’s crying abruptly stopped. She stared at me for a few seconds, then grabbed a fruit knife from the counter, held it to her wrist, and looked at Cole with tear-soaked eyes. "The camera in that area has been broken for days. Harper knew that, which is why she dared to attack me." "Cole, if you're going to believe her lies, I'll kill myself right now to prove my innocence!" "Enough." Cole snatched the knife from her, his voice low and dangerous. He turned his back to her and looked at me. "Starting tomorrow, you're off the crew." A ringing sound exploded in my ears. I gripped the bedsheets, my nails digging into my palms. "On what grounds?" "This is my project." "On the grounds that I am the lead investor." He turned his back to me, his voice freezing cold. "Your full compensation will be wired to your account. Not a penny less." Sierra raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed silently: You lose. My heart seized. I stumbled out of the bed. The medical ID bracelet on my wrist caught the edge of a photo frame on the nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor. Amidst the sound of shattering glass, I saw the 17-year-old Cole in the yearbook photo, staring at a specific spot. And the blurry girl in the corner wasn't Sierra at all. It was me. My back, intentionally cropped out of the frame. He really did hate me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have purposely signed onto my project just to kick me off and humiliate me. I rubbed my eyes and said softly, "I understand." "Wait." Sierra suddenly blocked my path. She leaned in close, her breath carrying a sickly, serpentine sweetness. "Harper." "I remember now. You're that pathetic little loser who used to hide and cry in the locker rooms." The blood in my veins turned to ice. After all this time, I was still terrified of her proximity. The sick joke was that she had just remembered. The depth of memory is always inversely proportional. The abuser brushes it off like dust, while the victim has it carved into their bones. She stroked her diamond ring like a trophy. "The way you're getting kicked off this set right now looks exactly like how you used to run away clutching your backpack." She smiled radiantly. "Only this time, you can't just transfer schools." "Sierra." I heard my own voice, completely numb. "Do you know how long it takes for a person to bleed out from a severed carotid artery?" She froze. "Three minutes." I picked up a large, jagged shard of glass from the broken frame on the floor. "Want to find out?" Sierra stumbled backward in terror. Cole stared at me intensely. "Harper, calm down." The glass dug into my palm. The sharp pain kept me lucid. Warm blood slid down my wrist, dripping onto the floor. I took a half-step back, letting the blood fall. "Don't panic." I looked up at Cole, forcing a twisted smile. I had already made up my mind to accept reality, so why did my heart still hurt so damn much? "I'm just scaring her." I stepped around them and walked toward the door. At the threshold, I turned back to look at Sierra. "But next time, who knows." 4 As I walked down the stairwell, I heard muffled, suppressed sobbing. I hesitated for a moment, then walked over. A small, petite girl was crying while applying ointment to dark bruises on her arms. Her eyes and nose were completely red. I recognized her. It was Mia, Sierra’s young assistant. My eyelashes fluttered. I softened my voice. "Do you need help?" She jumped, instinctively hiding her arms behind her back. I sighed and held my hand out to her. "Rubbing it like that will just make it hurt more." "Let me." She hesitated for a long time before speaking timidly. "Thank you, Ms. Ellis." I took the cotton swab. "I used a really good scar-removal cream a while ago. I'll text you the link later." "Um..." she stammered. "Did you... accidentally hurt yourself before too?" "Are you sure you did this to yourself by accident?" I asked. "Yes, I was just clumsy." I smiled and didn't call her out on the lie. "Well, I wasn't clumsy. I was bullied." "What?" She looked shocked, her eyes filling with empathy. "Do you know the fastest way to heal?" I asked. I tilted my head, gently took her hand, and softly blew cool air over her bruised skin. The tips of her ears turned pink. "What is it?" I winked at her. "Hit them back." Her tightly knit brows relaxed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, Harper." I patted the top of her head. "By the way, my writing studio is currently short-staffed." "I remember you graduated with a degree in literature, right? Do you want to come work for me starting tomorrow?" "But Ms. Fontaine..." "I can have a word with the director." Her eyes instantly lit up. "I'd love to!" "See you tomorrow, then." "See you tomorrow, Harper."
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