The Cold Superstar Demands A Second Chance

Avery reached out and picked up the top envelope from the stack. It was from the luxury jewelry brand she had fronted for two years.

She flipped straight to the final page, her eyes scanning the dense legal jargon until they locked onto the numbers.

The penalty claim had seven zeros.

Avery's fingers began to tremble. The thick paper rustled loudly in the quiet room.

Quinn pulled out a barstool and sat across from her. She tapped her knuckles against the marble.

"That's just the first one," Quinn said.

Avery forced her jaw to unclench. She grabbed a pen and a yellow sticky note from the counter.

She started writing down the numbers, adding the totals in her head.

The tip of the pen pressed so hard it tore through the thin paper. The final sum was enough to drain her entire savings and leave her drowning in millions of dollars of debt.

Avery dropped the pen. It clattered against the stone. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to slow her racing heart.

Quinn leaned forward, her elbows on the table.

"There is one way out of this," Quinn said. "A suicide mission, but it's a way out."

Avery opened her eyes. The muscles in her neck tightened.

"What way?"

Quinn pulled her iPad from her bag and tapped the screen. She slid it toward Avery.

A project proposal titled Second Heartbeat filled the display.

Avery glanced at it and immediately recoiled.

"A trashy celebrity dating reality show?" Avery's voice was laced with disgust. "Absolutely not. That will permanently destroy my resume as a serious host."

Quinn didn't argue. She just swiped the screen to the next page.

It was the confirmed cast list.

The very first name in bold print was Caryn Jordan.

Avery's pupils contracted.

Quinn tapped a video link embedded next to Caryn's name.

Caryn's face appeared on the screen. She was dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue, looking perfectly fragile.

"I just... I just want to find a place to heal my broken heart," Caryn sniffled to her followers. "Maybe Second Heartbeat will help me believe in love again."

Avery's teeth ground together. She dug her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke. A hot, suffocating wave of humiliation washed over her.

Quinn hit pause. Caryn's fake, teary face froze on the screen.

"She is going to use this show to step right over your dead body and play the ultimate victim," Quinn said.

Avery pushed off the stool. She started pacing the length of the living room, her mind spinning.

She stopped at the window, looking down at the paparazzi circling the building like vultures waiting for her to jump.

Quinn walked up behind her.

"The network is desperate for ratings," Quinn said softly. "The appearance fee they are offering covers the down payment for your first breach of contract settlement."

Avery turned around. The hesitation in her eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, hard sheet of ice.

"I want a guarantee," Avery said. "I want unrestricted microphone access while I'm in that house."

Quinn let out a dark chuckle.

"For the sake of the ratings you bring, producers are willing to take their underwear off. They'll agree to any conditions."

Avery walked back to the kitchen island. She picked up the iPad and began reading the fine print of the proposal.

She stopped at a clause detailing 24/7 camera surveillance.

Avery picked up her red pen. She aggressively crossed out the entire paragraph.

"I need off-camera private time," Avery stated. "I am not being filmed while I sleep."

"I'll negotiate it," Quinn warned, packing up her bag. "But you realize you're walking into a coliseum, right? They want blood."

Avery slapped the proposal back onto the marble.

"Let them," Avery said, her voice dead flat. "I'll be the one holding the knife."

Quinn pulled out her phone and dialed the network producer's number to lock in the deal.