Chapter 19 #2
The production lot was already buzzing when I arrived. Trucks lined the gravel drive, crew members hauling equipment, voices calling out instructions. I parked in my usual spot and sat for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel.
I could do this.
I had to do this.
Anne Gilmore thought she’d broken me. But now I knew the truth. And armed with that knowledge, I could play her game just long enough to let her hang herself. I grabbed my bag and headed toward Vance’s house, where cameras were already set up.
Carol spotted me first, but, before she could speak, Kenzie appeared.
“Lila.” Her voice was honey-sweet, dripping with concern. “Oh, honey. We need to talk.”
My stomach dropped. “About what?”
“After yesterday’s … episode.” She placed a hand on my arm. “We’re all so worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” She tilted her head, studying me like I was a specimen under glass. “Come on. Let’s talk.”
It wasn’t a request.
I followed her inside, where they’d set up a small seating area—two chairs facing each other under soft lighting—and three cameras positioned around us.
My blood went cold. “What is this?”
“Just a conversation,” Kenzie said, sitting in one chair and gesturing for me to take the other. “We want to make sure you’re in a good headspace. That’s all.”
I remained standing. “With cameras?”
“For documentation purposes. Network requirement after any on-set incident.” She smiled. “Come on, sit. This won’t take long.”
I had no choice. If I refused, they’d claim I was being difficult. Unstable. Proving their narrative. I sat and crossed my legs, forcing myself to look relaxed.
Kenzie leaned forward, her expression soft and caring in a perfect performance. “So. Do you think maybe the stress of the show is too much? It’s a lot of pressure—cameras, deadlines, public scrutiny.”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you? Because yesterday, it seemed like you were really struggling. The tears. The raised voice. Walking off set.” She paused, letting that sink in. “Most professionals don’t have public breakdowns.”
“The cabinets were wrong. Anyone would have been upset.”
“But you didn’t just get upset, Lila. You fell apart. On camera. In front of the entire crew.” Her voice stayed gentle, concerned. “Have you considered that maybe this isn’t the right fit for you? That the pressure might be affecting your mental health?”
I clenched my fists in my lap. “I don’t need a mental health evaluation.”
“I didn’t say you did.” She tilted her head. “But Mia must be worried about you. Have you talked to her about what’s been happening?”
My spine went rigid. “Don’t bring my daughter into this.”
“I’m just concerned.” Kenzie’s smile was all sympathy. “You have a young girl at home watching all of this. It must be so hard for her, seeing her mother struggle publicly. Seeing those photos online. Reading what people are saying about you.”
The cameras were still rolling. Every word I said could be twisted, edited, used against me.
“I’m not struggling.”
“Aren’t you?” She glanced at the cameras, then back at me. “The defensiveness. The anger. These are signs that maybe you’re not coping as well as you think. We can bring in a professional—someone to evaluate whether you’re stable enough to continue—“
“I said I’m fine.” My voice came out harder than I intended, and I saw her eyes light up. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted.
Behind her, Beau appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay in here?” He crossed the room and placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Lila. Whatever you need.”
I wanted to shove his hand off. Wanted to scream that I knew exactly what they were doing. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
“I don’t need anything,” I said, standing abruptly. His hand fell away. “Except to get back to work.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Kenzie stood too. “We don’t want another incident.”
Carol appeared from somewhere off-camera. “Maybe we should have a medical professional evaluate you—just to be safe.”
“I don’t need to be evaluated. I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”
“No one’s saying you’re not capable,” Kenzie said. “We’re just worried. The leaked photos. The public scrutiny. Your relationship with Vance complicating things—“
“My relationship isn’t complicating anything.”
“Isn’t it?” She glanced at Beau. “There’s clearly tension between you and Beau now. We’ve all noticed it.”
Beau stepped closer. “I just want things to be okay between us. Like they were before.”
“Before what?” I asked.
“Before Vance,” Kenzie supplied. “Before things got … complicated.”
I could see exactly what they were doing—creating footage that suggested I was unstable, defensive, caught in a love triangle I couldn’t handle. Every word I said would be edited to support their narrative.
“I need some air,” I said, moving toward the door.
“Lila—“ Kenzie called after me.
But I was already outside, chest heaving, hands shaking.
I leaned against the wall of the house, trying to catch my breath. This was psychological torture. Calculated. Deliberate. And I had no way to fight back.
Not yet.
“Lila Morgan?”
I looked up to find a woman standing a few feet away. She was tall, thin, with designer sunglasses pushed into her hair and clutching a handbag to her chest.
“Yes?”
“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
I glanced back at the house. They’d be coming to find me any second. “I’m busy at the moment.”
“It’s about Kenzie. And Beau.” Her voice dropped. “I know what they’re doing to you.”
My pulse kicked. “Who are you?”
“Cassidy Monroe. Beau’s girlfriend.” She laughed bitterly. “Or I was. Until two weeks before filming started.”
“What happened?”
“I auditioned for your job. The co-host position.” Her voice hardened. “They’d said they were drawing up a contract, but then suddenly they decided against me and gave it to you instead. Beau dumped me three days later. Said it was complicated now. That’s when I knew something was wrong.”
I stared at her. “Why would they choose me over you?”
“No offense, but yeah, it doesn’t make sense. I was on a similar show a few years back. My agent assumed they’d created the show for me. But then, all of a sudden, you’re in the picture. An unknown designer from Willet Cove. None of it tracks. Kenzie specifically requested you.”
I knew this already from my meeting with Ethan, but my stomach dropped now with the certainty of it all.
Cassidy continued. “A friend of mine on the inside told me she fought really hard to make the case for you. In a way that made it seem like it was personal. I thought at first maybe you two went way back or something. But then, I figured out what they were really up to.”
I held my breath.
“I installed the camera after Beau dumped me,” Cassidy said. “I had the perfect excuse because I needed to pick up my things from our apartment. I had this feeling he was lying about everything—about why we broke up, about the show, all of it. And I was right.”
She pulled a small flash drive from her bag with shaking hands. “It’s all on here. Footage from my hidden camera. It’s all here. Everything you need.” She held out the flash drive. “Take this. Do whatever you want with it. Burn them to the ground if you have to. But someone has to know the truth.”
I stared at the drive, my hands suddenly shaking.
“What’s on it?”
“Everything,” Cassidy said, glancing around as if to see if anyone was watching. “Proof that this was never about a TV show. It was about destroying you. That’s what they’re trying to do.”
Behind me, I heard Carol calling my name.
I took the drive, shoving it deep into my pocket. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassidy said. “I should’ve come forward sooner. But I was scared. Beau’s scary sometimes. He has a temper. In fact, they’re both terrifying when they don’t get what they want.”
“Lila.” Carol’s voice, closer now, practically screeching. “We need you.”
“I have to go,” I said to Cassidy. “But thank you. Really. I knew something was off, but I wasn’t sure why.”
She nodded, already backing toward the parking lot.
I turned toward the house, where Carol stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
“Everything okay?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“Fine. Just needed some air.” I’d pretend I wasn’t feeling well, in case I needed that excuse for later. “My stomach’s queasy.”
Not even a flicker of sympathy in her cold eyes. “We have more filming to do.”
I followed her back inside, imagining the flash drive like a hot missile inside my pocket. One I would use to defeat my enemies. They thought they had me trapped. Broken. Defeated. But everything had just changed.
With that in mind, I made it through a walk-through of paint samples that felt utterly surreal before I pulled Carol aside.
“I’m not feeling well,” I said. “I need to go home. I think I have the stomach flu.”
She took two steps backward. “But we have more to film.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” I was already moving, pulling off the microphone and handing it to a PA. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Lila, you can’t just leave,” Carol said.
But I was already gone, practically running to my car.
The moment I hit the road, I called Vance.
“I have it,” I said, my voice shaking with adrenaline. “I have everything. The dirt we need.”
“Okay? Tell me more.”
“Cassidy Monroe. Beau’s ex-girlfriend. She gave me a flash drive with hidden camera footage from his apartment. Apparently, it’s proof that they were targeting me.”
“Get out of there. Come home.”
“I’m already on my way.”
Vance was waiting on the porch when I pulled up. He met me at the car, pulling me into his arms before I could even speak.
“Thank God you’re safe,” he said. “I’ve been pacing.”
“I’m all right.” I pulled back, holding up the flash drive. “We need to watch this. Now.”
Inside, I took out my laptop and plugged in the drive. Vance stood beside me, his hand on my back.
The video loaded. Grainy footage filled the screen of what was apparently Beau’s living room. Despite the dim lighting, it was clear there were two figures on the couch. Beau and Kenzie.