Chapter 1
Standing outside a top–tier celebrity’s hotel room, I started a livestream.
In front of millions of viewers, I made a shocking declaration: Tonight, I would sleep with my idol.
As a tsunami of insults flooded the comments, people dug into every detail of my life, from my childhood to my family history.
I didn’t flinch. When the police arrived, I calmly opened the door, a smile on my face.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m the one. Go ahead and arrest me.”
I knew rabid fans would tear me apart any second now. But I didn’t care.
Because in my past life, I had taken the fall for my boyfriend and his precious first love.
That red Ferrari registered under my name plowed through eight pedestrians in one night, dragging mutilated bodies down the
boulevard.
I was thrown into prison. Every piece of evidence pointed to me.
The media had a field day. My family’s front door was buried in funeral wreaths sent by online trolls.
My father’s company lost everything overnight. My mother collapsed and was rushed into the ICU.
And then, I opened my eyes. Back to the day before the accident.
This time, I’d make the whole world help prove my innocence.
Standing under the hotel’s grand awning, I tapped open the livestream.
“In a few minutes, our beloved Ethan Howard will be checking in here,” I said, facing the camera.
“And tonight, I’m going to sleep with him.”
I made sure to tag every trending topic imaginable, desperate to grab algorithm traction.
Sure enough, my account was immediately flooded with hate.
[Sleep with Ethan? Girl, I want to sleep with him too–keep dreaming.
[Dream on, delusional fangirl. Have you even looked in a mirror? You’d better be a selfshipper.]
I was wearing nothing but a T–shirt and shorts, a baseball cap pulled low over my face, practically a clone of every other girl on the street. Nothing special.
But I didn’t have time to glam up.
When Ethan’s car pulled into the lot, I caught every detail on camera, including the license plate, and the moment he stepped out, then uploaded it immediately.
The internet exploded.
[Wait–girl, you’re actually doing this??]
[This is stalking! Ean groups are gonna blacklist you.].
If you even touch him, I’m coming for you myself.]
Perfect. Just the reaction I wanted.
I marched straight into the lobby.
His agent was checking in at the front desk. When I walked up in my cap, he gave me a suspicious look.
Chapter 1
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I glanced at the exploding chat feed, where dozens of people hurling insults, and forced myself to keep pushing forward.
“Watch closely, everyone. Your idol is right next to me, and I swear I’ll make it happen tonight.”
My heart hammered against my ribs with a frantic rhythm like a war drum.
But this was the city’s most exclusive hotel. Even if I failed, there were enough celebrities around to make a scene.
While Ethan was distracted by his phone, I summoned every ounce of strength, grabbed his arm, and yanked him into the elevator.
His agent shouted behind us, and chaos erupted in the lobby.
But I was faster. The elevator doors slid shut just in time.
I had a permanent room here. With shaking hands, I swiped the key card and shoved Ethan inside.
Click Locked. Finally, I could breathe.
Ethan stared at me, clearly on high alert. “Ma’am… don’t do anything rash. I get that you’re a fan, but this qualifies as kidnapping.”
Kidnapping? I almost laughed.
“Is that so? Think your agent’s calling the cops?”
“He probably won’t. He doesn’t want the publicity.”
I frowned, mind spinning, calculating how to get this to blow up even bigger.
Ethan’s voice softened. “If you’re in trouble, I can help. You don’t have to do something this extreme.”
“Thanks, but the only way you can help is by staying in this room with me, until morning.”
He backed away, his hand instinctively clutching his shirt collar. “Sexual assault laws work both ways, you know. Even for women.‘ Seeing that I meant no harm, he tried to calm me down.
“How about a photo? An autograph? If we spend the night here, both our reputations are toast.”
Reputation? Compared to prison, a damaged reputation meant nothing.
Even now, the memory made my skin crawl.
That blood–slick Ferrari.. severed limbs scattered like broken dolls… the stains too thick to even identify the color of blood.
And every piece of evidence said I was the one behind the wheel.
“}
My boyfriend and his precious little first love had stood before the cameras, pointing fingers at me like model citizens doing their civic duty.
Bay Clark had looked at me and asked, “Then tell me–how do you prove it wasn’t you?”
Right. I couldn’t.
