Chapter 25
Adi
Adi’s legs trembled as he stepped off the stage. Carter and Beck looked elated but kept their celebrations subdued for Ollie and his team. Sierra said nothing as she rejoined the group. Her expression was tight, mirroring how Adi felt. That had been close—too close.
Three more rounds to pass. Three more rounds to show his dad what he could do.
Adi had spent every night for months lying awake, imagining Victor Cunningham watching his son on the show. Analyzing his moves. Waiting to see if he was as clever as his old man . . . and nothing like his mother.
Adi had been determined to prove his worth. And maybe, just maybe, Victor would be so impressed that he’d ask Adi to live with him. They could catch up on lost time. Adi would never have to deal with Symphony again. The dream was almost too much to bear.
The thought of returning to his regular life, of being ignored or forgotten or treated like nothing more than Symphony’s ticket back to Hollywood, made Adi feel physically ill.
He knew Symphony had used the freezer incident as an excuse to show up today, citing concern for her son. He also knew Ranielle had told her not to come, but predictably, she didn’t listen. The fact that she hadn’t even said hi to him—
Equally predictable.
“Aditya.”
Ranielle beckoned him with a clawed finger. “With me.”
Carter, Beck, and Sierra shot him questioning looks. He shrugged and split from the group.
Ranielle led Adi out of the set in the direction of her office. When they got there, Vera was sitting at the desk. She jumped up when they entered.
“What now?” Ranielle said.
“We have an appointment. Don’t tell me you forgot again.”
Ranielle gestured to the door. “I don’t need to sign off on every damn detail. Just do your job, Vera.”
Vera stormed away, casting a livid glare at Adi as she passed.
“So, what am I in trouble for, exactly?” said Adi, when she’d slammed the door behind her. “If this is about picking the lock on the dining hall . . .”
“It’s not.” Ranielle leaned back against the desk and folded her arms, as if she were trying to be intimidating but cool. “Take a seat.”
Adi ignored the visitor’s chair and wandered to the gray couch. He sat dead center, slinging both arms over the back.
He expected irritation, but Ranielle only smiled. “You have a noticeable presence on camera.”
Adi opened his mouth to make a smart-ass comment and found he had nothing. Of all the things he’d expected from the executive producer, that wasn’t one of them.
“I like you, Aditya,” she continued. “The audience does, too. You’ve got a vibe. A look. An attitude. Vera tells me your name has been all over the Clue Master forums . . . but you probably know that already.”
He’d had no idea. It was strange Carter hadn’t told him. Maybe she was jealous of his popularity. Although . . . from everything he’d seen, she seemed like the type who would cheer a teammate on rather than compete against them.
“Okay?” he said when he realized Ranielle was waiting for an answer.
“There are people who have suggested you’d make an exceptional show host.” She paused, letting this sink in. “I’m wondering if you might be interested in the position, starting next season.”
Adi dropped his arms to his sides. “Sorry, what? Why? Is Fitzy quitting?”
“It’s time for Fitzy’s career to take a new direction.”
“Is this from him, or you?”
“From Hitflix. They don’t think he’s the right fit for the role. They want”—she gestured vaguely in Adi’s direction—“a fresh perspective.”
“Right,” Adi drawled.
“I’m serious. You’re good-looking. Charming. Smart enough to hold your own with Louis. You could help elevate the show to a whole new level.”
He tried to imagine reading cheesy cue cards and sipping water through a straw while people dabbed at his face. No thank you.
“I can see your hesitation,” Ranielle said, “and I’d like to add that we’re planning to make significant changes next season.”
“What kind of changes?”
“I’m not legally allowed to disclose that information, but I can promise new destinations. First-class flights. The most elaborate puzzles in the world.”
Sweetbrier Resort.
It couldn’t be.
But maybe it could. Maybe the invitations were only the beginning, and Victor Cunningham was extending his offer to a fresh slew of puzzle-loving teens. In that case, Adi would be receiving more than a one-off chance to visit the resort. He’d have a whole season to get to know his dad.
He felt like a fish staring at an obvious bait on a hook. But he’d be out of his mind to turn down an opportunity like that.
“Did my mother put you up to this?”
Ranielle bristled. “Don’t insult me. I’m still the executive producer here.”
Maybe. But Symphony had a way of twisting things in her favor, and the fact that she happened to be skulking around the studio only made Adi more suspicious. It was too much of a coincidence.
No wonder the editing team had made him look better than he was. This whole thing was preplanned.
Being the host of a reality show wouldn’t swing Victor’s vote in his favor, especially not if Symphony had anything to do with it.
On the other hand, if Adi could spend some time with his dad, prove he wasn’t some shallow Hollywood type—
“I’m not making this proposal lightly,” Ranielle said. “Give it some thought, and let’s discuss again after the next round. I trust you can keep this between us until then? Fitzy doesn’t know, and I don’t see the point in enlightening him until after this season is wrapped.”
Rough break for Fitzy.
“Oh—and there is one small stipulation.”
Adi sighed. There was always a catch. “What?”
“I like winners, Aditya.”
His eyelid twitched. “So . . . your offer only stands if my team wins the season?”
“I knew you were a smart kid. I’m thinking it might be . . . prudent . . . to have a strategy in place in the event your team continues to struggle. You might require, let’s say, extra assistance for some of the clues.”
“You want me to cheat?”
“I want you to see the big picture. This is show business. You can’t be naive enough to think we don’t tweak and edit to our advantage.”
“Of course I know that,” Adi snapped. “Reality shows are never actual reality.”
She laughed. “Oh, they are. They’re the producer’s reality. And my reality is seeing you as a winner, and host of next season.”
Adi got up. As if he needed help solving a few puzzles.
“I’ll think about your host offer,” he said, “but I don’t need the ‘extra assistance.’ I’m perfectly capable of solving a couple of escape rooms on my own.”
“Except you’re not on your own, are you? You have an entire team. One that hasn’t proven to be completely reliable.”
Adi hesitated. She had an annoying point. And he really wanted a way to talk to his dad.
But then—Victor would be mortified if he discovered his son was a cheat.
“No,” Adi said. “I can do it, even if they can’t. I don’t need help.”
“If you say so. Just know, Aditya, the offer is only good as long as you stay in the game.”
“What was that about?” Beck said as Adi rejoined his team on their way to the shuttle.
“I’ll tell you later,” Adi muttered, aware that Jarius was watching them. He sat by the window for the trip back to the complex, considering his options. Despite what Ranielle thought she saw in him, he was no showman. He didn’t have Fitzy’s pizzazz. And he had no desire to do the job.
But maybe it would be worth it, if he got to see his dad . . .
When they were back in their unit, he dumped his backpack by the wall and sat in the center of the sofa, fingers steepled like he was a villainous mastermind hatching a plan. The others hovered nearby.
“Well?” said Sierra.
“Ranielle wants me to do promo for Sweetbrier Resort,” Adi said. There was some truth in it, at least. “After Victor announces that I’m his son.”
They were quiet as they digested this.
“So he knows?” Beck said. “He’s going to contact you?”
“Sure. After the season’s finished.” A guy could dream.
Sierra wrinkled her nose. “I’m hardly the poster girl for a happy childhood, but even I can see something’s up with that. Why do you have to prove yourself to your own father?”
A tiny part of Adi argued that Sierra might be right, but he banished it.
“He didn’t even know I existed until a few months ago.
And he’s one of the busiest guys on the planet.
Of course he’s not going to drop everything for a forced family reunion—involving my mother, I might add.
That’s enough to put anyone off.” He swung his gaze to Beck.
“Ranielle hinted that they might be filming the next season at Victor’s resort. ”
Beck’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“That’s so cool,” Carter whispered.
But Beck let out a disappointed groan. “You mean if I’d waited to audition for the next season . . . ? Aw, man.”
“You’ll still get the invitation if we win,” Sierra reminded him. “Our team would be the first ones to try his rooms. Of course, they’ll probably make us do a bunch of gross publicity for it, too. So—hard pass from me.”
“Wait,” said Beck. Then, more forcefully. “Wait! They’re filming the next season at the resort?”
“Sounds like,” said Adi. “Why?”
A change came over Beck. He sank onto the coffee table, rubbing his bottom lip, staring at nothing.
“Beck?” said Carter. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Awesome,” he said distantly. “Do you know what this means?”
“That Victor Cunningham’s bank account will grow along with his humongous ego?” said Sierra. Then she looked at Adi, borderline sheepish. “Er. I’m sure he’s a totally upstanding dude when you get to know him.”
“You’re very convincing,” said Adi.
“No, listen.” Beck waved his arms at them. “If the show is filming there, they’ll need information about the place. Photos from a location scout. Maybe even maps or blueprints?” His gaze flickered to Adi. “Any chance Ranielle will be calling you into her office again?”
“Uh . . . yeah, probably. She wants to talk after the next round. Why?”
Beck got up, pacing in a way that was reminiscent of Sierra when she was strategizing. “This is going to sound sus, but stick with me. I need to know everything you can find out about that place. And I mean everything.”
“Oh god,” said Sierra. “You’re not just a fanboy. You’re a stalker.”
“No,” said Beck. “I mean—sort of. But not the way you’re thinking.” His eyes were almost feverish. “Do you remember when we were talking about how Victor lowballed that family out of their land?”
“Sure,” said Sierra.
He took in a deep breath before blurting, “That was my family.”
“What?” Adi straightened.
“Sweetbrier Ranch. It was ours since the early 1900s. I practically grew up there. But my grandpa got into some trouble—horse races, mostly—and he ended up selling the ranch for a fraction of what it was worth. My whole family was outraged. He didn’t talk to any of them before he did it, and then .
. .” He paused, his expression tightening.
“Well. Gambling’s an addiction, and . . .
it didn’t exactly get better. He passed away last year.
No one realized until after he was gone that there was nothing left.
No inheritance. No college funds. Just a bunch of debt piling up because everyone thought the profit from the ranch would cover them, and it was like they were waiting for him to die, and—” He cut himself off.
Adi gaped at him, trying to process what Beck was saying. His family, his ranch . . . and a literal trove of gold bars found buried there after the ranch was sold. To Adi’s dad. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Beck shook his head. “It’s true.”
Sierra cursed lowly. “How have you kept this from us? Not to mention the producers.”
“Ranielle knows. I mean, she knows that my family got scammed by a property developer and we haven’t recovered. It was my sob story. For the greenlights. She ate it up.”
“But she doesn’t know the property developer was Victor Cunningham?” asked Carter.
“Of course not. There’s no way she would have brought me onto the show if she knew what I really wanted.”
“Revenge,” Sierra said solemnly, nodding in understanding.
But Beck looked startled. “No! Jasper Barrett buried his gold on my family’s ranch almost a hundred and fifty years ago.
It was right there, all along. His codes.
His puzzles. If I’d had the map, I would have found it first. But here’s the thing .
. . I have reason to believe there’s more out there.
If I could just get to the resort, I really think I have a chance of finding it.
All of it.” He laughed. “I don’t care about revenge. I want that treasure.”