Chapter 1

During my senior year, I transferred schools out of the blue, leaving everyone buzzing with rumors that I'd died from leukemia.

After I left, Arthur—that apathetic troublemaker who always lounged in the back row—suddenly went quiet.

He completely transformed, throwing himself into his studies with an intensity no one had seen before, eventually landing a spot at Berklee College of Music.

Nine years later, he'd become a legitimate superstar—a Grammy darling who swept major awards and fronted Crownless, a band whose albums went platinum faster than stores could stock them.

During a candid livestream Q&A about his love life, his usual charismatic smile faded.

"She's gone," he said, his voice catching slightly.

"If I could go back... I wouldn't have made that stupid joke about her staying eighteen forever."

Behind my mask, adjusting my camera as it caught his phone lock screen, I felt my heart stop.

Wait...

Is that... me?

--

Arthur Lambert had dominated the music industry for seven years, collecting Grammys like souvenirs and becoming the flawless idol millions dreamed of.

After all these years, I found myself face-to-face with him again.

Only this time, he was the celebrity guest on a reality show, and I was just another camera operator.

This marked Arthur's first-ever appearance on a reality show, and fans were practically vibrating with anticipation.

When he walked in, the studio erupted. Paparazzi swarmed like predators spotting prey.

My colleague nudged me. "Lambert's here."

"Yeah, I see him," I replied, keeping my tone casual.

In the VIP corridor, he kept his head down, tugging his baseball cap lower as he strode past.

Even just his silhouette sent the audience into hysterics.

I quickly powered up my camera, capturing his entrance.

Damn, he's still gorgeous.

I could make good money selling this footage to fan sites.

"Hey, didn't Arthur graduate from LaGuardia High? Aren't you alumni too? Do you guys know each other?" my colleague asked suddenly.

I froze.

Memories flooded back from that evening years ago.

Back when I was still Emma Lively.

In that dingy pool hall, clutching my notebook, tears streaming down my face: "Arthur, please stop fighting. Just finish your homework first, okay?"

Arthur's knuckles were bleeding, his patience completely gone.

"God, Emma, you're so fucking annoying."

"Are you deaf? Get lost."

...

I snapped back to reality.

"Him? A superstar?" I laughed, shaking my head. "How would someone like me know someone like him?"

Celebrities always purge ordinary people from their lives after hitting it big—prevents backstabbing.

Arthur had a terrible reputation in high school. He definitely wouldn't want to run into former classmates.

Besides, he absolutely hated me.

I'll just pick up some exclusive footage to sell. No need to bother him with the past.

Chapter 2

The show wasn't starting for another hour.

I was crouched in the corner checking my gear when a voice chirped above me.

"Emilia? Oh my God!"

I glanced up, immediately recognizing who it was.

Sharon Hill—one of today's celebrity guests and my former college roommate.

Last year when she got fired, she'd blown up my phone daily, sobbing about how she couldn't make rent and needed any job I could find her.

Our studio needed a production assistant, so I called in favors to get her hired. Then during a live segment, she "accidentally" wandered into frame. With her Instagram-perfect smile and baby-doll voice, she went viral overnight.

We hadn't texted since.

"Well, look who it is," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

She widened her eyes in that practiced way she did for cameras.

"You're seriously still behind a camera? That's crazy! I figured you'd be running this place by now," she said, twirling her hair. "God, it's so weird how life works out. If that camera had caught you instead of me that day..." She trailed off with a theatrical sigh.

"But hey," she continued, her voice dropping to a stage whisper, "we both know karma's a bitch. Remember when I begged you for help and you stuck me with all that grunt work? The universe was watching, babe. Look at me now—verified on everything, and you're still..." She gestured vaguely at my equipment.

I said nothing.

The truth? She'd gotten fired for drunkenly dropping a $50,000 camera at her last gig. She'd called me crying about being broke and blacklisted. I'd risked my reputation getting her hired as a PA.

And somehow in her version, I was the villain.

What was even the point of explaining?

Someone was walking toward us from across the studio.

Chapter 3

"Sharon!"

I turned to look.

It was Shawn Carter, my ex-boyfriend who'd been in the same class with Sharon and me at college.

After Sharon blew up, Shawn had dumped me to become her assistant manager.

He froze mid-step when he saw me. "Emilia?"

Sharon snatched the coffee from his hand. "Shawn, you got it already? That was quick."

"Yeah, had to check a few blocks, but I found the place you like."

"You're the best."

Sharon smiled sweetly before turning back to me with a smirk. "Funny, you always complained how Shawn never took care of you and was so cold. What's that about? He treats me like an absolute queen."

"Cool."

Are you finally done?

I looked at her calmly. "Anything else you want to say, Miss Hill? Because everything you just said is totally on camera."

Sharon stiffened.

"What did you just say?"

Her entire brand was built on being America's innocent sweetheart. Her fanboys would have a meltdown seeing this side of her.

"Delete that right now, Emilia!"

She lunged for my camera, suddenly panicked.

I clutched it against my chest.

"This isn't even my equipment, Miss Hill. I wouldn't know how to delete anything."

"Cut the bullshit! Delete it or I swear I'll end your career!"

She grabbed at it desperately.

Shawn, seeing things escalating, rushed to intervene. The commotion drew everyone's attention.

Our director hurried over, demanding to know what was happening.

I let my eyes well up. "Miss Hill thinks I filmed her and is demanding I delete footage, but I wasn't even recording her!"

Sharon's eyes widened in fury. "Stop playing dumb! Give me that camera! Or I'll sue you for unauthorized use of my image!"

The director tried to calm her down while taking my camera to check.

"Miss Hill, she really didn't record you. Look for yourself—this must be a misunderstanding!"

Sharon couldn't believe it, frantically scrolling through the footage.

Of course she wouldn't find anything. I hadn't even turned the camera on.

Before Sharon could protest further, Shawn pulled her back. "Just a misunderstanding. Miss Hill is concerned about her wardrobe being leaked. Sorry for the trouble."

He quickly led her away.

I turned to the director apologetically. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why she reacted like that. I just touched my camera and she freaked out."

"Don't worry about it."

The director waved it off.

"These D-list celebrities are always the most high-maintenance. Big attitude, small talent. Someone will put her in her place eventually. Everyone to positions—we're going live in thirty."

I nodded, pulling out my mask and securing it over my face.

I always wear a mask on set. I hate having my face captured on camera.

Just as I finished adjusting it, someone called from behind me.

"Emilia Lively!"

I turned around to see a crew member standing beside... Arthur Lambert.