After I was blacklisted by the entire industry, my agent took me to meet a titan. I timidly lifted my eyes to look at her, my voice barely a whisper. “Vivian…” A slow smile curved her lips as she pulled me into her arms. “Here,” she murmured, her voice a low hum against my ear. “Say my name again.” My face flushed crimson. Weren’t we moving a little too fast? 1 I was a no-name actress, barely clinging to the eighteenth rung of the Hollywood ladder. Three years in, and I was still a nobody. A few weeks ago, I’d managed to piss off Chloe, the girlfriend of Landon Hayes, Hollywood’s own crown prince. The result? I was canceled, my career put on ice indefinitely. The funny thing is, I didn’t cross her over a role or a rivalry. I was just gossiping with another actress on set about who in the industry had gotten work done. We never even mentioned Chloe’s name, but she was convinced I was throwing shade at her. The other actress came from a family with connections, so she got off with a simple apology. But me? I had no one in my corner. Landon Hayes had me blacklisted overnight. My agent, Sarah, stared at me for a long time, her expression grim. “Scarlett,” she said, her voice low, “you have one last shot at this. Do you want a comeback?” I had a feeling this “last shot” wasn't going to be an easy one. But for the dream of acting… I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Yes.” That settled it. Sarah led me to an exclusive, low-key lounge, the kind of place with no sign and an unlisted address. The room was filled with seven or eight people, all strangers to me, but the sheer power radiating from them nearly made my knees buckle. Sitting in the center of it all was the ultimate titan of the industry—Vivian Croft. To put it simply, in this town, what she said, went. Even Landon Hayes’s father, a studio head in his own right, had to treat her with the utmost respect. On the way over, Sarah had prepped me. My mission was simple: get on Vivian Croft’s good side and claw my way back into the industry. “Go on, introduce yourself,” Sarah said, giving me a gentle push forward. She smiled at the woman in the center. “Vivian, this is Scarlett O’Malley. The girl I told you about.” Vivian exhaled a thin stream of smoke, her eyes glinting with amusement. I summoned every ounce of courage I had, lifted my gaze, and whispered, “Vivian…” She stubbed out the cigarillo. A custom, diamond-banded piece that probably cost more than my rent for a year, extinguished after a single puff. A slow smile curved her lips as she reached out and pulled me into her arms. “Here,” she murmured, her voice a low hum against my ear. “Say my name again.” I stumbled into her embrace, my face instantly on fire. My breath hitched, my heart hammering against my ribs. We were both women, but this felt…intensely intimate. Before I could process it, Sarah was already singing my praises. “Vivian, she’s just a bit shy. But her acting? It’s the real deal.” She shot me an encouraging look. I caught her meaning, my voice coming out impossibly soft. “Vivian… I want to keep acting. I won’t let you down.” It was only then that I got a clear look at her face. She had classic, sharp features—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and narrow, almond-shaped eyes that held a captivating allure. Her entire presence was a blade, beautiful and dangerously sharp. An alpha. For no reason at all, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. She was only six years older than me, and we were both women. Why was I so terrified? Vivian raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Alright. But what can you give me?” I froze, my mind blank. I stammered, “I… I’ll work hard. I’ll act. Most of the money I make… you can have it.” At that, Vivian let out a genuine laugh. “Sweetheart, what would I do with your money?” Sarah wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, frantically trying to signal something to me with her eyes. I didn't understand. Besides my work, what else did I have to offer? A kind-looking woman sitting nearby chimed in, smiling. “Honey, does Vivian look like she needs money?” Then what was I supposed to give her? In a panic, I did the only thing I could think of. I tightened my grip on the lapel of her blazer, shifted in her lap, and whispered, “Whatever you want. I just want to act again.” My words seemed to please her. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something deeper, more inscrutable. “Good,” she said, her voice a low purr. “You said it, not me.” She glanced at Sarah, her tone lazy but firm. “From now on, anything Scarlett O’Malley wants, people will deliver it to her on a silver platter.” Sarah was ecstatic. “What are you waiting for? Thank Vivian!” A genuine smile finally broke through my anxiety. I nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Vivian!” Vivian’s smile was knowing as she pinched my cheek. “You’re welcome.” After all, everything has a price. 2 After that day, my career trajectory shifted seismically. The supporting roles I used to beg for were now beneath my notice. Every script that landed on my table was for the female lead. The resources, the opportunities—they were being thrown at me. I didn’t want to waste Vivian’s efforts, so I poured everything I had into this second chance. I practiced, I filmed, I worked myself to the bone. My relationship with Vivian grew closer, too. But something about it felt… strange. We weren’t like sisters, nor were we just a boss and her subordinate. Sometimes, when I looked at her, my heart would start to race. When she was happy, I was happy. But when I saw her smiling at someone else, a strange, sour feeling would twist in my gut. Why is she smiling at them like that? We’re supposed to be the closest. Yes. I was becoming possessive of Vivian Croft. 3 Three months later, my first feature film as the lead officially wrapped. At the wrap party, I saw Chloe again. As one of the investors, she sauntered over to me, her chin held high. “You really think latching onto Vivian Croft makes you untouchable?” she hissed, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “Let me tell you something. The only reason she’s backing you is because you look a little like her ex-girlfriend. She’s into women, you know.” My breath caught in my throat. “Vivian is helping me because she’s a good person,” I retorted. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. We’re friends.” Chloe scoffed. “Stop pretending. You’re in love with her. I can see it written all over your face.” “I—I’m not…” The denial felt hollow even to my own ears. One night, I’d had a high fever. In my delirious state, I felt someone kissing me. Who else could have gotten into Vivian’s villa? I knew it was her, but I didn’t push her away. Afterwards, I told myself it was just a fever dream. Could Chloe be right? Was I… in love with Vivian? “I’ll give you a little tip,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with malicious glee. “Vivian flew to the States to win her ex back. Once she does, you, the little replacement, will be thrown out like trash.” This time, I didn’t argue. Because Vivian had gone to the States. It was sudden. A late-night phone call had woken her, and she’d left in a hurry. And she never, ever mentioned that kiss. Was it possible? Was all of Vivian’s kindness, her support, just because I was a stand-in for someone else? The thought was a physical pain, a sharp, cold ache spreading through my chest. Chloe must have seen the doubt in my eyes. “If you don’t believe me,” she purred, “go to City Central Hospital right now. Vivian’s ex has health issues. She’d have to get a check-up as soon as she’s back in the country.” I didn’t say another word. I left the party and got in a cab. On the way to the hospital, a question finally surfaced through my panic: How did Chloe know all this? 4 I arrived at the hospital, my legs feeling stiff and heavy. Vivian’s phone location showed she was back in the city, but she hadn’t contacted me. Normally, she’d already be home, waiting for me. The video call I’d just tried went straight to voicemail. With a heart full of dread, I walked inside. Following Chloe’s directions, I found the VIP suite. Through the small window in the door, I saw Vivian. She was alone, sitting up in the hospital bed, working on her laptop. There was no one else there. Was she sick? Is that why she didn’t tell me? A wave of guilt washed over me for believing Chloe. But then, the bathroom door opened, and a beautiful young woman walked out. She was smiling sweetly as she wrapped her arms around Vivian from behind. I saw her face clearly then. She looked… she looked seven or eight parts like me. “Vivian,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I’m never leaving again.” My knees went weak. A bone-deep chill spread through me. Chloe was telling the truth. I was just a substitute. The moment she hugged Vivian, a ferocious, ugly jealousy clawed at me. I wanted to tear her face apart. This was so much more than simple possessiveness over a friend. Yes. I was in love with Vivian. The realization shattered my composure. I turned and fled, escaping the hospital as if my life depended on it. 5 I went back to the home I shared with Vivian and started packing. But as I pulled things from drawers and closets, I realized almost everything I owned had been bought for me by her. I’d arrived at this sprawling villa with a single small suitcase. My few belongings couldn’t even begin to fill the 800-square-foot master suite. I remember Vivian laughing at the sight. “A young woman should be cherished, properly cared for.” The next day, my closets and vanity were overflowing with designer clothes and luxury cosmetics. But now, thinking back, who was she really seeing when she looked at me? The person she wanted to cherish… it wasn’t me, was it? I gave a bitter laugh. I didn’t take a single thing she had given me. … It was 2 a.m. when Vivian finally got home. By then, I was on a high-speed train to a different city. I opened my phone and pulled up the live feed from the villa’s security cameras. Vivian stumbled in, clearly drunk, leaning heavily on the girl from the hospital. The girl entered the security code with a practiced ease, as if she’d done it a hundred times before. Inside, she led Vivian to the sofa and got her a glass of water. Everything about their interaction screamed intimacy. Vivian rubbed her temples, her voice hoarse. “Why isn’t Scarlett out here?” Whenever Vivian came home late, I would wait for her on the sofa. Sometimes I’d fall asleep, and she’d carry me to her bed, and we’d sleep in each other’s arms. But why was she asking for me now? Her ex was back, wasn’t she? What a player, I thought bitterly. On the screen, she reached out and took the girl’s hand. Her voice was tender. “Sweetheart, go get her for me.” My heart skipped a beat. Sweetheart? Were they back together? The person she called “sweetheart” glanced towards my wing of the house and pouted. “It’s so late, she’s definitely asleep. Why are you always thinking about Scarlett O’Malley? Vivian, have you fallen for someone else? I just got back and you’re not even paying attention to me.” To me, it looked like a girlfriend teasing her partner, a playful, jealous spat. My fingers trembled. I couldn’t watch anymore. I slammed the app shut. 6 I drifted in and out of a restless sleep, my phone buzzing incessantly. 99+ missed calls. I knew it was Vivian. She must have realized I was gone. A fresh wave of self-pity washed over me. You’re calling her ‘sweetheart,’ so why are you looking for me? Steeling myself, I finally answered her call. She sounded frantic. “Scarlett O’Malley, where are you? You’re not home, you’re not answering my calls, do you have any idea how worried I was? If your agent hadn’t told me you were heading to B-City, I would have called the police.” I listened in silence until she was done. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I just left for a shoot.” I had decided last night. If Vivian didn’t love me, then I would stop loving her. I would bury myself in work to get through the heartbreak. There was a pause on the other end. “Scarlett,” she said, her tone softer now, “I didn’t mean to yell. But next time you leave, can you please just tell me where you’re going? I hate not being able to find you.” Find me for what? Isn’t your precious ex back? Now that she’s here, you can’t even let your substitute go? I didn’t dare say any of it out loud. I couldn’t afford to burn that bridge completely. “I know,” I said meekly. Vivian started to say something else, but I cut her off, blaming a bad signal, and hung up. I made a silent vow: I was done with her. A hand extended a few tissues toward me. I looked up to see a cool-looking woman in a jumpsuit and sunglasses. “Don’t cry,” she said simply. I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face. I took the tissues with a mumbled, “Thanks.” The cool girl smirked. “No problem.”
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