The conference room at Starlight Media was freezing, a deliberate choice by the new management to keep meetings short and efficient.
Aria sat at the head of the table (a seat she had claimed simply by walking in first), sipping a latte Zoe had fetched. Her hands were still wrapped in the black silk and gold guards, resting on the polished mahogany like lethal accessories.
Across from her, Bella was fidgeting. The "Fruit Knife Incident" from the day before had rattled her, but Bella Vale was nothing if not persistent in her delusion. She was currently whispering furiously to Lucas, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else, preferably on a yacht with no cell service.
"Listen up," CEO Vance announced, walking in with a stack of files. "The buzz for The Empress’s Shadow is astronomical. But in this news cycle, buzz dies in forty-eight hours. We need to sustain the momentum."
He dropped a file in front of each cast member.
"The network has arranged a crossover event. The cast will participate in the season premiere of Survival Star."
Lucas choked on his water. "Survival Star? The show where they drop you on a deserted island with a flint and a camera crew? I can’t do that! I have allergies! I have a skincare regimen!"
"It’s the highest-rated variety show in the country," Vance countered. "The demographic overlap is perfect. Fans want to see the ’Emperor’ and his women in a primal setting."
Bella picked up the file, her eyes scanning the details. A slow, malicious smile spread across her face.
Physical challenges. Obstacle courses. foraging.
She looked at Aria’s bandaged hands.
"I think it’s a wonderful idea," Bella announced, her voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. "It would be such a great bonding experience for the cast! And the fans would love to see our... natural sides."
She turned to Aria, her eyes wide and innocent.
"But... oh, Sister. Can you handle it? With your injury? It might be too strenuous. You can’t even peel an orange. How will you climb a rope or build a shelter?"
The room went silent. It was a trap, glaring and obvious. If Aria said no, she looked weak and spoiled. If she said yes, Bella expected her to fail miserably and cry on camera.
Zoe, sitting in the corner taking notes, snorted loudly. "Please. Aria could survive a nuclear winter with a bobby pin and a stick of gum."
Aria silenced Zoe with a look. She turned to Bella.
"You’re worried about me?" Aria asked, leaning back in her chair. "That’s sweet. But you should worry about yourself, Bella. There are no stunt doubles in the jungle. And I hear humidity is terrible for hair extensions."
Bella’s hand instinctively went to her hair. "These are natural!"
"Whatever helps you sleep," Aria dismissed her. She looked at Vance. "I’m in. When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning," Vance said. "Pack light. The show provides the gear. Or... lack thereof."
The door to the conference room opened.
Damien Sinclair walked in. He wasn’t wearing a suit today. He was wearing a black turtleneck and dark trousers that emphasized his broad shoulders, looking like a Bond villain on a casual Friday.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees. Lucas shrank into his chair.
"Mr. Sinclair," Vance stood up immediately. "We were just discussing the Survival Star promo."
"I know," Damien said, his voice smooth and deep. He walked over to Aria, placing a hand on the back of her chair. It was a claim of ownership so casual it made the air crackle.
"I have reviewed the safety protocols of the show," Damien announced to the room. "They are inadequate."
"Sir, it’s a survival show," Vance stammered. "The danger is the point."
"The danger is unacceptable when my wife is a contestant," Damien corrected.
He looked at Aria.
"Clause 2: Protection," he reminded her.
"I can handle a few bugs, Damien," Aria said, looking up at him. "I’m not made of sugar."
"I know what you’re made of," Damien murmured, his thumb brushing her shoulder. "But I don’t trust the jungle. Or the people in it."
His gaze flickered to Bella and Lucas. Bella gulped.
"Therefore," Damien turned back to Vance, "Sinclair Corp has acquired the title sponsorship for this season. And as the primary sponsor, I will be joining the production."
"Joining?" Lucas squeaked. "Like... camping?"
"God no," Damien scoffed, looking offended. "I will be the Guest Judge. I will be observing from the command center. To ensure... fair play."
He looked down at Aria, a wicked glint in his golden eyes.
"And to ensure the winner gets a prize worth fighting for."
Aria smirked. She knew exactly what "fair play" meant in Damien’s dictionary. It meant Lucas and Bella were about to have the worst week of their lives.
"Well," Aria stood up, her silk hand-wraps gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "It looks like we’re going on vacation."
She walked past Bella, leaning in close.
"Pack comfortable shoes, Sister. I have a feeling you’re going to be doing a lot of running."
The Next Morning: The Departure
The private airfield was windy. Aria stood on the tarmac, dressed in designer "survival chic"—black cargo pants, combat boots, and a fitted tank top, with her hands wrapped in fresh, waterproof bandages. She looked ready to headline an action movie.
Zoe was there to see her off, holding a bag of contraband snacks.
"I hid protein bars in the lining of your backpack," Zoe whispered, hugging her. "And a solar charger for your phone. Don’t let them catch you."
"You’re the best," Aria whispered back.
"Also," Zoe pulled back, grinning. "I leaked a rumor that you’re secretly a black belt. Let Bella sweat."
Aria laughed. She turned to board the production jet.
At the top of the stairs, Damien was waiting. He held out his hand to help her up.
"Ready to conquer nature?" he asked.
"I don’t camp, Damien," Aria said, taking his hand. "I conquer."
"That’s my girl."
He pulled her inside the luxury jet.
Behind them, Lucas was arguing with a producer about his luggage allowance.
"I need three suitcases! It’s a week!"
"One bag, Mr. Sinclair. Survival rules."
"But my moisturizer!"
Aria watched from the window as Lucas was forced to abandon his Louis Vuitton trunk on the tarmac.
She settled into the seat next to Damien. He immediately pulled down the window shade.
"We have four hours until we land," Damien said. "And once we’re on the island, there are cameras everywhere."
"So?" Aria asked, her heart picking up speed.
"So," Damien continued. "I intend to get my fill of my wife before I have to share her with a television audience."