The sunroom was blinding.
Walls of glass reflected the afternoon light, bouncing off crystal vases and polished marble floors. A long table had been set up with personalized name tags and embossed folders, each one placed with the precision of a magazine shoot. Two other girls were already seated at the table—both of them impossibly pretty, airbrushed-looking even in real life.
Harper hesitated at the doorway.
One of the girls looked up, narrowed her eyes, then went back to scrolling through her phone. The other gave a polite half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Harper took the last seat.
Her name was printed in gold on thick cardstock: Harper Lane.
She traced the letters with one finger, wondering how many people had ever said her name out loud and meant it.
Lena from PR stepped forward. "Welcome, finalists. You are the top three candidates chosen from a pool of over five hundred applicants. Congratulations."
Harper glanced at the other two. One had sleek blonde waves and a designer jacket. The other wore flawless makeup and a blazer she probably hadn't thrifted. They looked like reality show contestants. Harper looked like the intern.
Lena continued. "Over the next seventy-two hours, you'll go through interviews, activities, photo sessions, and chemistry tests with Mr. Rivers."
Harper blinked. "Chemistry tests?"
The blonde girl smirked. "It means we flirt with him. They see who he likes best."
Lena didn't deny it. "Public image is crucial. We want authenticity—or at least the appearance of it."
She clicked the remote. A slide showed on the screen behind her: "The Rules"
1.No real relationships. This is a contract. Not a romance.
2.You must commit to the role for a minimum of three months.
3.Everything posted on social media will be pre-approved.
4.Any leaks, violations, or scandals will result in immediate removal.
Harper tried to keep her face neutral. The other girls looked completely unfazed.
Lena smiled thinly. "This is your shot. Don't waste it."
A new voice cut through the room.
"Who's wasting what?"
Eli Rivers strolled in, hoodie down now, hair tousled in that infuriatingly effortless way. The girls at the table straightened immediately.
Harper didn't move.
He scanned the room, gaze flicking past the others and landing on her for just a second longer than necessary.
Then he dropped into the seat across from her. "So. This is the competition?"
Blonde girl practically purred. "I prefer the term "co-stars.""
He smirked, but his eyes didn't leave Harper. "Right. Co-stars."
Lena cleared her throat. "Mr. Rivers, if you'll review the files—"
"Already did."
He leaned back in his chair. "Let's skip the formalities. I want to see them unscripted. No cameras. No poses. Just... them."
Harper stiffened. The others looked
Let me kn intrigued.
Lena nodded slowly. "Very well. We'll arrange a private session with each finalist."
"Not private," Eli corrected. "Casual. Group hang. Let's get dinner tonight. Just us."
Harper's stomach dropped.
She wasn't ready for this.
But stories don't wait for readiness. And she was already in chapter two.