The deck of the luxury yacht cutting through the water toward Catalina Island fell silent the moment Alicia stepped aboard.
She saw them all. Her "old friends."
Julius Rodgers, the director, whose fleshy face was a mask of contempt. Kian Costa, the pop idol, who immediately looked away, unable to meet her eyes. Jamie Burt, the reality star, who smirked and immediately raised his phone, no doubt to start a livestream.
A few other celebrity contestants were scattered around. Chantal Hayes, a rival actress, let out a theatrical laugh. "Oh, look what the tide washed in. I thought this yacht had a no-trash policy."
Alicia ignored her, moving toward an empty lounge chair.
"Hey everyone!" Jamie Burt said to his phone's camera. "Look who it is, our special 'surprise' cast member! Anyone got a message for Alicia?" A torrent of hateful comments instantly flooded his screen.
Alicia didn't even glance his way. She put on a pair of dark sunglasses and leaned back, an island of calm in a sea of hostility. Her indifference was more infuriating to them than any angry retort.
Julius Rodgers sauntered over, his posture oozing condescension. "Alicia, you're young. It's natural to want fame. But this... this is just pathetic. If you apologize publicly, maybe I could find a non-speaking role for you in my next film."
The insult, layered with a slimy insinuation, hung in the air.
Alicia slowly removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were flat, like polished stone. She looked at him not as a person, but as a collection of decaying cells. His soul-light was particularly dim, she noted, flickering like a faulty bulb and tinged with a sickly gray color that spoke of advanced physical decay. A common sight among mortals who let their vices consume them.
"Mr. Rodgers," she said, her voice quiet but carrying across the deck. "I would strongly advise you to see a doctor about your prostate. Judging by your aura, you don't have much time left."
The blood drained from Julius's face, then rushed back, turning it a mottled purple. His health was a closely guarded secret.
A shocked silence fell over the group.
Kian Costa, ever the peacekeeper, stepped forward. "Alicia, come on... we all have to get along here."
Her gaze shifted to him. "I still have the love letters you wrote me," she said conversationally. "Shall I recite a few lines? The one where you called me your 'starlight in the darkness' was particularly poetic."
Kian went pale. His entire public image was built on the lie that she had pursued him relentlessly. He stumbled back as if she had physically struck him.
The deck was now utterly silent. In two sentences, she had neutered the two most powerful men in the group.
Only Zane Ryder, a handsome, good-natured action star, watched her with an expression of intrigued amusement.
The yacht docked at the island. A producer announced the first challenge: a deep-sea fishing competition.
"The team that catches the heaviest or rarest fish," the producer announced, "will win a private dinner with a powerful and mysterious figure connected to the show's production."
Everyone's eyes lit up.
Alicia knew. This was her chance.
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