Chapter 7: Playing the Victim Is Useless—Are You Making Pig Feed?

All eyes turned to Eva.

Eva stepped forward, looked at Julian, and smiled a flawless smile.

"Julian, Ivy's feet are so delicate, and she just twisted her ankle again. How can you let her walk back on her own?"

Julian looked at her warily. "What are you getting at?"

"What I mean is, as her most devoted older brother, shouldn't you run back to the villa right now, pick out the most comfortable pair of flat shoes, bring them back, and put them on her yourself?"

Eva said this with complete sincerity, putting special emphasis on the word "yourself."

Julian froze.

So did Ivy. She clearly hadn't expected Eva to suddenly speak up for her.

"Exactly!" Tiffany chimed in right away. "Julian loves Ivy so much, I'm sure he'd be happy to. And what a touching moment that would make for the cameras!"

The cameraman, reading the room perfectly, immediately pushed the lens right into Julian's face.

Eva watched Julian. He was being put on the spot. If he refused, his image as a devoted brother would take a serious hit. But if he agreed...

He clenched his jaw and shot Eva a glare.

"Stay right here," he told Ivy, then turned and jogged toward the villa.

Ten minutes later, Julian came running back with a pair of soft-soled sandals.

He dropped to one knee on the sand, wrapped one hand around Ivy's ankle, and carefully slipped off her sand-covered heels with the other, then eased the sandals onto her feet.

Ivy looked down, a faint blush on her cheeks, and murmured, "Thank you, Julian."

Everyone around them was marveling at what a close brother and sister they were.

Eva stood nearby and watched in silence.

How sweet.

Let them put on their little "sibling bond" show all they want. The clearer the cameras captured it, the more intimate the interactions looked, the more spectacular the audience's reaction would be when it eventually came out that they weren't even related by blood.

Eva was looking forward to the day public opinion turned on them.

After the beach activities wrapped up, the sun began to set.

At the outdoor kitchen counter, the air was thick with chaos.

Ten guests split into five teams, each claiming a stove.

Cole and Tiffany stood staring blankly at a pile of mud-caked vegetables. Tiffany pinched a muddy lettuce leaf between two fingers, held it up, and complained to the camera with a look of pure disgust.

"How are we supposed to wash this? There's dirt in every single leaf. It's gross!"

Across the way, Ivy and Liam's station was a full-on disaster.

Liam had grown up on Hollywood sets since he was a kid and could burn a sandwich in the microwave. Ivy had never cooked a day in her life — in eighteen years with the Whitlock family, someone had always handed her a glass of water.

"Liam, is the heat too high?" Ivy stood holding a spatula, a good three feet from the pan.

The oil in the pan was already sending up thick black smoke.

Liam scrambled to adjust the flame, but panicked and turned the knob the wrong way. The fire shot up with a whoosh.

"Ah!" Ivy let out a sharp scream, dropped the spatula, and ducked behind Liam.

Liam grabbed the lid from the counter and tried to smother the pan, his hands shaking. He missed several times. Hot oil splattered out and burned him, and he kept yanking his hand back.

By the time he finally got the lid on, a sharp, bitter smell of burning was drifting through the air.

The whole outdoor kitchen had descended into chaos.

Except for Eva and Sebastian.

The knife scraped across the cutting board. Eva scored the cleaned fish with even slits, then rubbed in sea salt and black pepper, pressing the seasoning gently into the flesh.

"Sizzle—"

The fish hit the hot oil and filled the air with a satisfying sound. The heat was just right, and the skin quickly turned golden and crisp.

Eva glanced to her right.

Sebastian stood beside her, chef's knife in hand, moving fast.

He broke down a whole cut of beef with clean, efficient strokes — trimming away the excess sinew, leaving only the most beautifully marbled sections.

No wasted movements. Every cut precise.

He slid the steaks over to Eva's side.

She picked them up with tongs and laid them in the other pan. Butter melted in, followed by rosemary and garlic.

Not a word passed between them.

No discussion, no direction. He cut, she cooked. She reached for seasoning, he held out a plate.

The whole thing flowed like a routine they had rehearsed a hundred times.

Fifteen minutes later, all five teams had their dishes laid out on the long table.

Marcus dragged over a chair, dropped into it with easy confidence, and picked up a knife and fork.

"Tonight, I'm your judge." He tapped the rim of a plate. "Let's see whether you've made dinner or poison."

He started with Tiffany's team.

The plate held a pile of plain boiled greens — barely salted, some leaves still visibly flecked with dirt.

Marcus pushed the plate away with a look of distaste.

"What is this, a caveman diet? Zero points."

Tiffany rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut.

Then Marcus moved to Ivy and Liam's dish.

On the plate sat a blackened, unidentifiable lump. There was no telling what the original ingredients had been. It just smelled sharply of char.

Ivy stepped forward immediately.

She lowered her head, tears clinging to her long lashes.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. I really did try my best. I've never been in a kitchen before, and I burned my hand on the oil trying to cook for everyone."

She held out her right hand. There was a small red mark on the back of it.

Liam immediately moved to shield her.

"Marcus, Ivy worked really hard. The flame was impossible to control. You can't blame her for that."

Marcus leaned back in his chair and looked at the two of them.

"Work hard?" Marcus let out a cold laugh. "Do you two have some kind of misunderstanding about what that phrase means?"

Ivy blinked.

"This is a survival reality show, not a Hollywood audition." Marcus pointed at the charred remains on the plate. "You turned perfectly good ingredients into garbage, and now you're telling me you tried hard and burned your hand. So what? Am I supposed to give you an award for your outstanding contribution to wasting food?"

Silence fell over the room.

The color drained completely from Ivy's face. Her lips trembled. She couldn't get a single word out.

Liam snapped.

"Watch how you talk to her! She's a girl. Why are you being so harsh?"

"You feel bad for her?" Marcus slid the plate forward. "Fine. You're a good man with a big heart. Eat it. Every last bite. If you finish it, I'll pass you both."