Chapter 2The Serpent's Smile

When my flight touched down at JFK, the show was already filming its second day. I drove straight to the Hamptons, a team of my family’s security following close behind.

Ignoring the frantic shouts of the production’s guards, I stormed into the mansion.

The scene that greeted me stopped my heart. Anya was on her knees, dressed in a ridiculously short, demeaning maid’s outfit. In front of her was a puddle of half-chewed food, a vomit-like concoction someone had clearly spat on the marble floor.

Lila stood over her, tapping her foot, her brow furrowed in mock disappointment.

“Anya, your punishment for yesterday was to serve the other guests today. But you can’t even keep the floor clean? This simply won’t do. Here, let me help you.”

With a sickening grace, she lifted her foot and pressed her designer heel onto the back of Anya’s head, grinding it down, trying to force her face into the filth.

My blood ran cold. I moved without thinking, crossing the room in three strides and swinging my hand with all my might. The crack of my palm against Lila’s cheek echoed in the cavernous hall.

Lila staggered back with a cry of pain. I seized the moment, pulling Anya up from the floor and into my arms. Seeing her like this—broken, bruised, trembling—felt like a physical blow to my own heart.

My eyes burned with tears. I held her tight. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m late. I’m so sorry I let them do this to you.”

It took a moment for her to realize it was me. The trembling slowly subsided, but then, to my horror, she wrenched herself out of my embrace. She pushed me away, her eyes wide with terror, and turned to grovel before Lila again.

“Miss Lila, it’s all my fault! Please, it was all me!” she cried, scrambling to clean the mess. “Blame me! I’ll clean it right now!”

The shock of being slapped finally registered on Lila’s face. She clutched her swelling cheek, her gentle facade crumbling into a screeching rage. “How dare you hit me! Are you insane? Do you have any idea who I am?!”

My heart ached as I looked at Anya. Before I left, she had been so full of life, so vibrant, promising me she would take Hollywood by storm. Three years. How had they beaten her down into this terrified, submissive shell?

Rage, pure and undiluted, surged through me. I grabbed Anya’s arm, refusing to let her kneel.

“You will not kneel,” I commanded, my voice like steel. “I’m here now. I’ve got your back.”

Then I turned and drove my foot squarely into Lila’s stomach.

“What if I hit you? Even if God himself came down from heaven, I’d still hit you today,” I spat. “And let’s see who dares to stop me.”

Lila shrieked and fell backward, landing right in the pile of regurgitated food.

The other starlets, finally snapping out of their stupor, rushed to help her, only to recoil in disgust at the mess staining her white dress.

“You lunatic! Where did you come from?” one of them shrieked. “Don’t you know Lila is the apple of Mr. Vance’s eye?”

“You touch her, and Julian will have you both buried in unmarked graves!”

Lila’s fans in the livestream chat exploded.

[Is that Anya’s ‘best friend’? She looks like a slut from the same B-movies!]

[Probably got off her knees in some coal baron's office just long enough to come here and act tough!]

[Our Lila is backed by Julian Vance, a titan of New York! He buys her multi-million dollar diamond necklaces like they’re candy!]

[Look at her, renting a few bodyguards to act tough. How pathetic.]

Hearing them chant Julian’s name over and over, a disturbing thought began to crystallize.

“Mr. Vance? Julian Vance?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft.

Lila, surrounded by her fawning court, heard me mention his name and seemed to think I was finally scared. She lifted her chin, her face a mask of arrogant disdain. “You’re not worthy of speaking his name. Even gutter trash like you knows the power of the Vance family in this city. It’s too late for regrets now.”

I almost laughed out loud. This was the same Julian Vance who had been leaving me pleading voicemails just last night, begging to know when I was coming home so we could finally set a wedding date.

And now, he was supposedly some romantic hero, ready to burn the world down for this woman?