Jesse's POV
I couldn't sleep.
My bed felt like it was made of rock. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Isla's face when she watched that movie. The way the color drained from her skin. The way her hands started shaking.
I'd shown her the proof.
And I had no idea if I'd just made everything better or destroyed it totally.
The clock on my nightstand said 3:47 AM. The mansion was meant to be quiet during these hours—the "sleeping time" that wasn't really sleep time because the cameras were still watching, waiting for anyone stupid enough to think they could have privacy.
I got out of bed and walked.
My bare feet made no sound on the hallway rugs. Past the kitchen. Past the common room where contestants had drunkenly spilled secrets earlier. Past the production office where I could sometimes hear Marcus laughing like a monster in a bad movie.
That's when I saw it.
A line of light under Isla's door.
She wasn't sleeping either.
My hand lifted before I could think about it. I was going to knock. I was going to push into her room and demand answers. I was going to ask her if she'd known. If Marcus had really paid her. If three years ago had all been some sick game.
But then I stopped.
My hand hung in the air, frozen an inch from the door.
What would I even say?
"Hi, remember how you destroyed my life? I have video proof that someone else might have destroyed it first, and I'm not sure if that makes this better or worse."
"I showed you evidence that someone manipulated us both, and now I'm here at 3 AM like a stalker because I don't know how to process anything anymore."
"I thought I hated you for three years, but now I'm realizing I might have hated a lie instead."
I dropped my hand and walked away.
Back to my room. Back to my bed that felt like concrete. Back to staring at the ceiling and waiting for the sun to rise and thinking how everything had gotten so twisted.
The thing about being in love with someone you're supposed to hate is that it breaks you in slow motion. You don't break all at once. You crack a little bit every day. Every time you see them. Every time you remember what they meant to you. Every time you try to tell yourself it's all in the past.
But it's not in the past.
It's happening right now, in this house with cameras watching, with scripts being written about you, with people trying to turn your private pain into public entertainment.
I'd spent three years making walls so high I thought I could never climb over them. I'd told myself that what Isla and I had was fake, that it never mattered, that I was better off without her.
But one look at her in the yard, and all those walls crumbled like they were made of paper.
And now Marcus Webb had shown me that those walls might never have been real in the first place. That someone had been destroying them from the outside, working to keep us apart, manipulating us both like dolls.
My phone buzzed on my nightstand.
A text from Jade Kim.
"Did you show her the video? What did she say? This is important, Jesse. We're running out of time."
I didn't text back. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell her that Isla had looked like someone had just told her the world was ending. I couldn't explain the silence that had come after the video stopped playing.
Isla had just walked away. No words. No answers. Just turned around and faded back into the darkness like she was dissolving into nothing.
I got up again around 5 AM. Paced. Stared out the window at the pool that looked empty and sad in the pre-dawn light. Tried to remember what it felt like to have everything make sense.
That's when I heard voices in the hallway.
Angry sounds.
I pressed my ear to my door and listened.
It was Marcus Webb and Derek, one of the creators. They were having a fight outside my room, and they weren't trying to be quiet about it.
"The video is gone," Derek hissed. "Someone deleted it from the files. And Jesse already showed it to Isla. The damage is done."
My heart stopped.
Someone had erased the video? How was that possible? I'd seen it on my phone. I still had it. Unless—
"Did you backup the server?" Marcus demanded, his words getting louder.
"Of course I did. But someone accessed the backup files too. Everything's ruined. It's like someone knew exactly what to do to make the proof disappear."
Marcus cursed. Actually cursed, loud enough that I heard every word.
"This changes things," he said. "Isla knows about the video now. Jesse knows. And if they figure out what that video actually means—"
"What does it mean?" Derek asked. "I thought it just showed that you paid her to leave?"
Silence.
A long, heavy quiet.
"That's the problem," Marcus said quietly. His voice was different now. Colder. More dangerous. "That's not what it showed at all."
I felt my entire body go numb.
"What do you mean?" Derek's voice trembled.
"That video wasn't proof that I paid Isla to leave Jesse," Marcus said. "It was proof of something much worse. Something that would destroy everyone—me, Jesse, Isla, the entire business if it got out."
"So what do we do?"
"We make sure they don't compare notes," Marcus said. "We separate them. We keep them from talking. And if they figure out what really happened in that video..." He paused. "We destroy them before they can destroy us."
The footsteps moved away, down the hallway.
I stood frozen inside my door, my mind running so fast I thought it might explode.
The video wasn't just about Marcus paying Isla to leave. There was something else. Something worse. Something that would destroy multiple people if it came out.
And Isla was watching it right now with no background. No reason. She had no idea what she was looking at.
I had to tell her. I had to explain. I had to—
My door flew open.
I jerked back, expecting security or a director. Instead, Isla stood there, breathing hard, her eyes wild.
"We need to leave," she said. "Right now. Both of us. We need to get out of this house."
"What? Isla, what are you talking about—"
"I watched the video again," she said, and her voice was shaking so badly I could barely hear her. "I watched it over and over. And I finally saw what you were meant to see. What Marcus didn't want us to see."
"What?" I stepped toward her. "What did you see?"
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me close so she could whisper.
"In the background of that video," she said. "In the corner. I thought it was just someone else in the room. But it wasn't."
"What was it?"
"It was a second camera," Isla whispered. "Being held by someone else. Which means Marcus wasn't the only one recording that night. Someone was recording him recording me."
My blood turned to ice.
"And that someone," Isla added, "is someone we both know. Someone we trust. Someone who's been in this house with us the entire time."
"Who?" I asked, even though part of me already knew I wasn't going to like the answer.
Isla's eyes locked onto mine, and in the darkness, I could see the answer in her face before she even spoke.
"It's Jade," she whispered. "Jade Kim has been part of this since the beginning. She's not trying to help us, Jesse. She's part of whatever Marcus is hiding. And if she's willing to erase a movie to protect that secret..."
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
Because we both knew what it meant.
We couldn't trust anyone.
Not Marcus. Not Derek. Not the makers.
And now, apparently, not even Jade Kim—the person I'd trusted more than anyone in the world.