Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Logan stares at me for a long moment… a really long moment.

The silence that settles between us is so heavy, so thick that I can practically feel my spine bow under it. I’m already scrambling for other arguments, other ways to make him see that, in the end, I really am his only option left—at least the only safe one.

I know he’s considering it. I know he’s weighing everything, trying to decide whether the consequences are worth it. Cameras in the apartment, our routine under constant surveillance, our privacy compromised for thirty days, in exchange for a contract that could change our family’s financial situation after everything we’ve been through.

But the past is heavy, and Logan has never hesitated to drop everything for me.

“All right,” he says at last.

My lips part, already ready to tell him he doesn’t have to sacrifice his life for me. He’s already done enough. God, he’s done more than enough… The least I can do is let him allow me to do something for him—

I blink, once, twice…

All right?

He agreed?

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out, so it just hangs there, stupidly open.

“There’s only one thing.” Logan pauses, making sure I’m looking straight into his eyes now. “Tristan doesn’t know the original girl backed out yet.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t know?”

“I mean I found out forty minutes ago, and he’s currently ignoring everyone’s calls.”

₊ * ⋆ ⋅ ❅ ⋅ ⋆ * ₊

“You don’t need to worry too much. They just want to go over the details. It will be all right.” That’s what Logan said on Monday morning, though I could hear the uncertainty in his voice as he dragged me toward the mirrored thirty-story building in downtown Boston.

At least I hope my brother actually believes those words, because I don’t. With every step I take toward the meeting room, my stomach sinks, and regret grows.

The bitter taste in my mouth is almost unbearable, but when the producer of Sterling Ivy Studios, Mr. Smith, extends his hand to greet me with a smile that nearly reaches his ears, I realize there’s really no turning back.

“Alisson, right?” He takes my timid hand and gives it a firm, respectful shake, full of expectation, which makes me hold my breath for a moment. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your brother.”

“Good things, I hope.” I let out a nervous laugh—completely strained—glancing sideways at Logan and immediately regretting it because, of course, he said good things. Wonderful things. Pretty, ridiculous lies that convinced this big shot I’m a good option for a reality show, even though the last thing I can offer is entertainment.

The CEO’s smile doesn’t falter, but something in his eyes narrows for a second.

“Enough to make me curious, that’s for sure,” Mr. Smith says, calmly letting go of my hand. “And curiosity is a valuable asset in our line of work.”

Logan steps forward, taking up space with irritating ease, returning to his agent’s posture, the one that sells the perfect image even when everyone can see the cracks. There’s no sigh of the uncertain man from Sunday morning chaos anymore.

“Ally has a natural presence…” Logan’s hand hovers for a second at my back, almost guiding me, almost pushing me forward. I can’t tell which bothers me more. “She just doesn’t realize it.”

Natural presence.

I almost choke back a laugh. 

“Is that so?” Mr. Smith tilts his head slightly, studying me again, this time with more interest. “Then let’s see it in action with McKenna.”

My heart gives an uncomfortable jump.

“To be honest, Alisson, I wasn’t very convinced you’d be a good fit. I thought it was just Logan’s desperate move to make this work. But I was willing to give you a chance to make a good first impression… After all, we’re running out of options.”

The producer’s words hit me with a contradictory force that almost knocks the ground out from under me. 

On the one hand, the relief of escape arrives in a treacherous wave, leaving a cold ache in my chest. If this doesn’t work, I won’t have the money to buy Leah’s camera, and Logan will probably lose his job because no one wants to be associated with a known maniac like Tristan.

I look back at Mr. Smith, ready to argue, to swallow my pride and somehow prove I can do this. That I am the right choice. The only one—

“Now… I’m sure you’re not what we’re looking for.” He cuts through my thoughts before my tongue can betray me and say exactly what I think about Tristan McKenna. 

Logan lets out a short breath beside me, wanting to interrupt, correct, or fix the unfolding disaster, but Mr. Smith raises a hand lightly without even looking at him.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else, Miss Rivera. The person who takes this role needs to be fully committed to the cause—cleaning up Tristan McKenna’s image and turning him into a misunderstood kid instead of a bully with anger issues.”

My lips part, but not to let persuasive words escape… they stick, tangled in my throat as if they, too, doubt me, for a moment that feels too long… But not long enough, because soon the door opens and the atmosphere shifts instantly.

I don’t even need to turn around. At first, I don’t… I just feel his presence like a physical force that steals all the air for itself, and the room grows colder, quieter, until I can hear my own heartbeat in my ear.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Mr. Smith’s voice takes on an almost satisfied tone and, strangely, sounds muffled, as if I’m underwater… “We were just talking about you.”

I turn slowly, my hands clammy, and regret it immediately because today, in this stupidly small room, the star of the REBELS looks even more imposing—and even more pissed off.

Tristan’s jet-black hair isn’t damp with sweat or messy in that wild way, but combed to the left in an attempt to look formal, more serious. Even so, stubborn strands insist on falling out of place over his forehead. It’s as if nothing about this man can be tamed.

And he’s not wearing jersey 88 or anything from the uniform. If it weren’t for his height and muscular build, nothing would give him away as an athlete. 

Certainly, I̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶m̶e̶m̶b̶e̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶b̶i̶g̶…

But what really makes me hold my breath is his green eyes. They don’t shine with that madness anymore, that rage that could set anything on fire if it wanted to. Now they’re cold, narrowed, and his thick brows draw down slightly, sharpening his gaze in a mix of irritation and, to my dismay, recognition.

“This is Alisson Rivera… your possible new co-star, McKenna.”