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The accusation stings. I’m not a manipulator. I’m not fake. But I can see in Serena's normally calm face that she’s disgusted by me.
“They made me sign an NDA saying I couldn’t discuss the incident with anyone. I’m so sorry.”
Annabelle’s eyes well with tears, one escaping to track through her makeup. “But that’s just contracts and lies. I thought we were friends. I told you everything about me—my family, my dyslexia, my insecurities. And you were just… playing a role this whole time?”
“No!” I feel like I’m drowning, like every word I speak is another gulp of water filling my lungs. “Annabelle, please—”
“Stop using my name like we’re still friends,” she whispers, and it cuts deeper than if she’d screamed it.
The room is closing in on me, faces twisted with disgust and betrayal. I’m losing them all, one by one. And the worst part is that they’re right.
“Each of you knows the penalties of a breach of contract.” I look around desperately. “I couldn’t say anything.”
“What else have you been hiding?” Luna presses, sensing blood in the water. She’s circling me now, her body moving with that grace that makes even her anger look choreographed. “We already know about the late-night sex with Hayes when cameras weren’t rolling. Your kiss with Seth in the garden.”
“What? No!” That accusation hits differently because it’s completely fabricated. “I never kissed Seth, Luna. That’s a lie.”
“Isawyou with him in the garden, Brielle. Anyway, how would we know?” Luna’s voice rises, playing to her audience. “How can any of us believe a word you’re saying?”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you—” I stop myself from saying more. I’m not going to get into this with her while the other women are around.
A murmur ripples through the group. I can see the thought taking root—if Brielle got special treatment, if the competition was rigged.
“This whole thing is a sham,” Serena says. “I left my job for this. I put my life on hold because I thought I had a fair shot with Hayes.”
“Everyone, please,” I say, but my words are drowned in the sea of angry voices.
“We should all walk out,” Serena says. “Show Hayes and the producers we won’t be manipulated.”
The situation is spiraling beyond my control. Serena is grabbing her purse, Annabelle is crying, and Luna stands watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She’s orchestrated this perfectly.
“I can’t believe you.” Her voice drips with faux disappointment. “I actually liked you, Brielle. Despite everything, I thought you were one of the genuine ones.”
And something in me snaps at the absolute gall of her hypocrisy. “Luna, that’s enough. You know Hayes and I have a connection, and you’re trying to sabotage it because—”
The splash of red wine hits me before I register Luna’s movement. It’s cold and sticky, soaking my cream-colored dress, dripping down my face and neck. The glass itself clatters to the floor, miraculously unbroken.
For a moment, absolute silence blankets the room. I blink wine from my eyelashes, mouth open in shock, feeling it trickle down my chest and stain what was a three-hundred-dollar dress.
“Security!” someone—probably a producer—calls, and suddenly burly men in black shirts materialize, moving between Luna and me like we’re boxers who need separating before the next round.
“She’s toxic,” Luna announces to the room, shaking off a security guard’s hand. “She’s been playing all of us from the beginning, and I’m done.”
I stand there, dripping wine, unable to form words as chaos erupts around me. Women are shouting, producers are trying to calm everyone, cameras are swooping in to catch every droplet of drama.
“Brielle,” a producer approaches, holding out a towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I take the towel mechanically and press it to my face, hiding tears that are now mixing with the wine. Without a word, I turn and head for the stairs, ignoring the whispered comments and stares that follow me. My feet feel weighted, each step an effort as I climb toward my room, leaving crimson droplets on the marble like some macabre breadcrumb trail.
In my room, I fight with one arm to peel off the ruined dress and step into the shower, turning the water as hot as I can stand, holding my hurt arm out of it. I scrub at my skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, wishing my humiliation could be washed away too.
25
The Impossible Choice
HAYES
Ibarely make it ten steps into the foyer of the mansion before Tanya swoops in, headset blinking. “Hey, Hayes—quick update. Luna has a photo of you and Brielle kissing and unclothed on the beach from before the show. She just confronted Brielle about it, and things got ugly.”