The Reclusive Top Star Has A Crush On Me

“Ivory Murphy is such a train wreck. Can’t they just kick her off the show already?”

“Doesn’t she get that Braxton Reynolds isn’t into her? Why does she keep throwing herself at him? Where’s her self-respect?”

“And even after Braxton left Jaylani Cunningham a note on the show hinting at their future together, Ivory still had to butt in. How is that any different from being a homewrecker?”

“Ivory’s nothing but a troublemaker. She should just bow out of the entertainment scene already!”

Golden sunlight spilled across Miami Beach as Ivory Murphy lounged on a deck chair, long legs stretched out, thumb scrolling through the endless pile-on in her comments. Same old, same old—everyone calling her a shameless man-stealer.

She let out a soft sigh. “So boring,” she murmured, turning off the screen.

When she’d first been dropped into this new world, she’d hoped for something more exciting. Instead, it was just as predictable as her last life. She might as well have stayed in the far-future interstellar age, playing the part of a pampered princess.

Then she’d read a romance novel set on Earth, and it sparked her curiosity. On a whim, she’d wished she could visit. The wish came true in record time—except she didn’t land as the lead. She woke up as a side character: a lovesick woman destined to be publicly humiliated for chasing the male lead.

From the second the original Ivory laid eyes on Braxton, she was hooked—desperate for even a scrap of his attention. Unfortunately, Braxton liked his women sweet and demure, not bold and breathtaking. And with Ivory’s striking features and mysterious aura, she was never going to fade into the background.

Braxton was openly annoyed by her advances. To him, Ivory was too forward, totally lacking in class. On the show, he constantly lectured her about respecting others—even said flat out that women who chased men were degrading themselves. He once compared a truly outstanding woman to a wildflower by the roadside, meant to be admired by passersby.

Braxton’s fans heard his remarks and took them personally, then came for Ivory with claws out. Even neutral viewers, swayed by the fanbase’s narrative, started seeing her as messy and shameless.

The narrative spun out of control, casting Ivory as the fickle, man-stealing villain. In reality, she was just playing by the show’s rules—openly pursuing love until a couple was locked in. Ivory rubbed her temples. What was actually going on in these online critics’ heads? Hot air, probably.

Braxton’s words were a walking contradiction. Since when was it degrading for a woman to go after love? That ‘ideal woman is a wildflower’ crap dripped with patriarchal arrogance—something the advanced society she came from had ditched ages ago. Clearly, the old Ivory—the one who’d been chasing love in all the wrong places—was overdue for a wake-up call.

“Ivory, the director wants us to meet at the villa,” a soft, gentle voice said from behind her.

Ivory slowly opened her eyes and glanced over. Jaylani Cunningham stood there in a knee-length white dress, radiating girl-next-door warmth. Behind her was Braxton, looking as impatient as ever, plus a camera crew capturing it all for the livestream.

The oversized deck chair swallowed Ivory up, hiding most of her from Braxton and the cameraman. But Jaylani, standing closest, had a front-row view of Ivory’s outfit—a black lace-trimmed swimsuit with white accents. It was elegant and playful, showing off her defined collarbones and slim waist.

Ivory’s body was something to envy—slender, but perfectly proportioned. Even Jaylani felt the sting. A flicker of jealousy crossed her face before she faked a gasp and dramatically covered her mouth. “Ivory, what were you thinking, wearing so little!”

She knew Braxton already thought Ivory was shameless. Seeing her now would only feed his disdain. Her shock was pure performance—like Ivory wasn’t wearing a swimsuit, but something far worse.

As expected, Braxton’s expression curdled, and he turned his back fast—like one more second of looking at Ivory might contaminate him. Jaylani’s voice was pitched just right for the livestream to pick up, and the online audience went wild.

“Wow, Ivory’s so extra. Flaunting it like that while we’re filming!”

“Does she think this beach is her personal stage or something?”

“There are, like, a ton of people here. Does she even know what respect means?”

The photographer, just as captivated, leaned in and focused on Ivory, pulling back for a full shot. Now the viewers could see her in her swimsuit, draped across the chair like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Sure, most of her skin was on display, but the important parts were covered. Besides, it was a beach. A swimsuit wasn’t exactly out of place.

The real issue was the contrast—Jaylani stood beside her in a full-length dress.

“Well, at least she has clothes on. If you can even call that clothes!”

“Look at our Jaylani. She knows she’s on a show and wouldn’t show up underdressed, no matter how hot it is. Ivory, where’s your sense of decorum?”

Most comments piled on criticism, but a few rogue voices slipped through.

“Okay, say what you want, but Ivory’s body is insane. I’m impressed.”

“Her waist is tiny, and she’s got abs too!”

Clueless about the online pile-on, Ivory rose slowly, wincing as her toes sank into the scorching sand. “Ouch.”

The heat was brutal. She pouted, glanced at the trio, then fixed the cameraman with her best please-help-me look.

The cameraman melted instantly, his resolve crumbling under her gaze. He didn’t even know what she needed before he blurted, “Of course!”

Ivory smiled. “Could you grab me some sandals, please? The sand’s really hot.”

His gaze dropped instinctively to Ivory’s bare feet, and a surge of responsibility hit him. The sand was hot enough to burn her. He set the camera on its stand and rushed off to get sandals.

Jaylani was thrown by how fast he jumped to satisfy Ivory’s ridiculous little request. “Ivory, you—”

Ivory cut her off. “To answer your earlier question—why am I dressed like this? We’re at the beach. Is it weird to wear a swimsuit by the sea?” She gave Jaylani’s outfit a slow once-over. “But aren’t you dying in that long cotton dress? It’s practically a hundred degrees out here.”

Jaylani hadn’t expected that. She nearly choked.