Sera stood outside Suite 504.
She spotted the alcove where she had hidden the bucket earlier—but it was empty. Someone, probably housekeeping, had moved it. She scanned the hallway and found it sitting on a small wooden side table near the service closet, the ice long melted to tepid water. She grabbed the heavy industrial metal bucket by its handle and strode back to Suite 504, the water sloshing over the rim.
Gary the cameraman hovered behind her, his camera hoisted on his shoulder. He swallowed nervously. "Uh, Sera? Does throwing water on a guest violate network physical contact guidelines?"
Sera completely ignored him. With her other hand, she swiped the master keycard.
She didn't push the door open. She kicked it open with the flat of her boot. The heavy wood hit the wall stopper with a solid, violent thud.
She marched into the dark room.
Ethan Vance was sprawled across the center of the king-sized bed. He was wearing expensive silk pajamas, his mouth slightly open, snoring softly in deep REM sleep.
Without a single second of hesitation, Sera hoisted the heavy bucket. She upended the entire container directly over Ethan's head and torso.
The ice-cold water hit him like a physical, crushing blow. The few remaining shards of ice battered against his face, chest, and shoulders.
Ethan screamed. It wasn't a manly shout; it was a high-pitched, undignified yelp of pure shock. The freezing temperature stopped his heart for a microsecond.
He shot up in bed, gasping desperately for air. His perfectly styled hair was plastered flat against his forehead. Water dripped from his nose and chin. He looked utterly pathetic.
The livestream chat went absolutely feral. Millions of viewers spammed laughing emojis, while Ethan's dedicated fan base screamed digital abuse at Sera.
Ethan wiped the freezing water from his eyes. He blinked, his vision clearing, and recognized Sera standing over him. His face contorted in absolute, genuine fury.
"What the hell is wrong with you, you psycho bitch? !" Ethan yelled, spitting cold water onto the soaked, expensive hotel sheets.
Sera stood casually at the foot of the bed, holding the empty metal bucket. She looked at him with an expression of supreme boredom.
"You are exactly thirty minutes late for assembly, Ethan," she stated coldly.
Ethan thrashed out of the wet blankets, shivering violently as the cold air hit his soaked pajamas. "You're lying! My call sheet explicitly said assembly was at 6:00 AM, not 5:00 AM!"
Sera tilted her head. Her expression shifted into one of extreme, mocking disappointment. "Are you incapable of reading a simple clock, or just incompetent?"
She turned slightly toward Gary's camera, shaking her head. She muttered, loud enough for the microphone to catch perfectly, "Unprofessional. Always has been."
Ethan scrambled off the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, his hands shaking from the cold and the rage. He opened the digital call sheet sent by the production team and shoved the screen aggressively toward Sera's face.
"Look!" Ethan shouted. "It says 6:00 AM!"
Sera glanced at the screen. It clearly read 6:00 AM.
She didn't flinch. She didn't show a single ounce of guilt or hesitation.
Instead, Sera immediately pivoted. She turned her cold, predatory gaze onto Brenda, the nervous production assistant standing in the doorway holding a tablet.
"Brenda," Sera snapped, her voice cracking like a whip. "Why did the production team send the talent the wrong schedule? Are you actively trying to sabotage this live broadcast?"
Brenda jumped. She was completely caught off guard by the sudden, aggressive attack. "I... I don't know, I just sent what the coordinator gave me..."
Sera didn't give her a chance to breathe. She stepped toward Brenda, firing off rapid, authoritative questions. "Did you verify the workflow? Did you check the communication protocols before hitting send? Millions of people are watching this incompetence."
Under Sera's intense, dominant pressure, Brenda broke. She looked at the camera, her face red, and apologized profusely for the "clerical error."
Sera sighed dramatically. She rubbed her temples, perfectly playing the role of the frustrated, highly competent manager forced to deal with idiot staff.
Ethan stood by the bed, freezing, dripping wet, and completely sidelined. He watched in stunned silence as Sera expertly shifted the blame away from herself, gaslighting the entire crew on live television.
Sera turned back to Ethan. "Error or no error, the rest of the team is waiting. You have five minutes to get dressed, or you will be left behind."
She walked out of the room, leaving Ethan shivering, humiliated, and utterly confused by the whirlwind of psychological warfare.
In the hallway, Sera checked her clipboard. There was one final room left: the penthouse suite.
She walked toward the private elevator, knowing exactly who was waiting upstairs. A genuine, dangerous smile finally touched the corner of her lips.
