Cassie crouched behind a marble pillar, trying not to sneeze. She was definitely not on the guest list for tonight's high-profile event at the extravagant Miraje Hotel. If she got caught now, she'd be dragged out by the over-muscled security guards faster than she could say "I'm with catering."
She peeked around the column, eyes locking on the star of the evening - Liya.
Gliding down the red carpet like royalty draped in moonlight, Liya waved elegantly at her screaming fans. Cameras flashed in rhythmic bursts, catching every perfect angle of her beauty. Up close, Liya was even more stunning. She had the kind of face that looked airbrushed in real life; porcelain skin, delicate features, and lips that curved with practiced sweetness. Cassie stared, mesmerized, then shook herself.
"I'm here for answers, not an autograph," she mumbled to herself.
She adjusted the stolen press pass dangling around her neck handwritten and clearly fake. Adrian would be having a heart attack if he saw her now. "You're not stealthy enough to sneak into a library, let alone a gala," she imagined him saying in that dry, unimpressed tone of his.
Cassie ducked and slipped through the ornate archway, weaving between tables with her head down. She was about to sneak into the ballroom when a strong hand grabbed her elbow.
She froze.
The man had sunglasses on despite the indoor lighting. "Where's your clearance pass?"
"I-I'm with the media," she lied.
"Then why is your badge smudged and written in glitter pen?"
Crap.
Just as he reached for his walkie-talkie, a voice like silk interrupted them.
"It's alright," Liya said, gliding over with a practiced smile. Her hand gently touched Cassie's shoulder. "She's with me."
The security man hesitated, but Liya's status was too powerful to question. He nodded stiffly and backed away.
Cassie turned to Liya, stunned.
"I saw you earlier," Liya said, her smile sweet, but something about her gaze made Cassie's spine prickle. "You looked like a little deer caught in headlights. What's your name?"
"C-Cassie."
"Well, Cassie." Liya's eyes twinkled. "I like your energy. Why don't you come to my private fan program next week? I think you'll enjoy it."
She pulled out a velvet card from her clutch and slipped it into Cassie's hand.
Cassie stared at it in disbelief. "Wait, really? Just like that?"
"Just like that," Liya said, still smiling. "It's always refreshing to meet... someone interesting."
Cassie forced a polite smile. The contact with Liya's skin sent a shiver down her arm. Her fingers were cold. Ice cold. Unnaturally so.
Liya waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. Cassie stood frozen for a while, her instincts twisting like coiled rope in her gut. Nothing about this encounter felt normal.
Later that Night
Liya closed the door behind her with a click, the mirrored walls of her dressing suite greeting her with a thousand versions of her beautiful face.
Her assistant had gone home. The party downstairs raged on without her.
She walked toward the antique vanity, her eyes glassy, smile long gone. She pulled open the velvet-lined drawer and brought out a delicate glass trinket hanging on a silver chain-once vibrant, now pulsing faintly.
The glow was dimming.
"No," she whispered, shaking it as if it would reignite. "Not now. Not yet."
Her breath quickened, panic flickering in her gaze. "This can't be happening..."
She dropped into the plush chair and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, frantic. But then slowly... she smiled again. A slow, eerie smile.
"I'm not going to lose everything I've worked for," she whispered. "Not my face. Not my fame. Not my destiny."
Her fingers grazed the glass as if caressing a lover. "I'll find someone. I always do."
The glow flickered again, dimmer than before.
"Maybe... that girl. Cassie," she murmured. "She'll do nicely."
Cassie stood before a weathered, creaking door in a narrow apartment hallway that smelled of old incense and damp carpet. The brass number "7C" was half-faded, as if even it wanted to disappear.
She hesitated. This was her second visit here.
Vicki Said, former manager to Liya, now a ghost of the entertainment industry herself, had no interest in reliving the past. She made that clear the first time Cassie had tracked her down.
But Cassie couldn't let this go.
The ghost boy, Marcuk, was counting on her. Every time he appeared with those pleading eyes, something inside her tightened and refused to look away.
Her breath misted in the cool air. Somewhere down the hall, a television murmured, and the hum of a refrigerator buzzed from inside the apartment. The lights flickered.
She knocked.
No answer.
Another knock. Firmer this time. "Hello? I just want to talk. Please."
Still nothing. Cassie sighed, glancing down at the scrawled note on her phone. Vicki Said. Former manager of Liya. Retired early. Last known residence: this.
She knocked again.
A low, creaking sound. A peephole cover slid open for half a second
"You again."
Cassie offered a hesitant smile. "Hi. I...please. Just a few minutes. That's all."
Vicki's lips pressed into a thin line. "I told you last time whatever happened in that world is behind me."
"I know. And I understand you don't want to be involved".Cassie said, voice shaking slightly, "But… someone's dead. A boy. And I think it's connected to Liya. Something is wrong. And I'm just trying to understand what it is."
"Then go ask Liya," Vicki snapped. "She's the queen now, isn't she? Glittering gowns and award speeches. I'm sure she'd love to talk to you."
"I know you don't want to talk,""but someone's dead. A teenage boy. He died suddenly and I think...no, I know it's connected to Liya."
Silence.
Cassie exhaled shakily and took a step back, unsure what to do next. She was about to turn when...
Click.
The door opened a fraction, the security chain still latched. A single wary eye peered through.
"Who sent you?" the woman rasped.
"No one. I found you myself."
"You with the press?"
"No. I'm just…" Cassie swallowed. "I'm someone who sees things. Things I don't want to see. And I know Liya's not who she pretends to be."
A long pause.
Vicki closed the door briefly. Then the chain rattled. The door opened again wider this time.
Cassie stepped inside.
The apartment was dim. Not messy, but sterile like no one had lived there in a long time, or if they had, they didn't plan to stay. Faint herbal scent clung to the air. The curtains were drawn. The only light came from a small desk lamp and the pale blue glow of a fish tank.
Vicki looked older than her age, gaunt cheeks, lined eyes, hair in a messy bun streaked with gray. She motioned to a chair but didn't sit herself.
"You're making a mistake coming here," she said in a quiet voice.
Cassie sat. "I'm already knee-deep in mistakes."
Vicki laughed bitterly. "I know that feeling."
For a moment, neither spoke. The bubbling sound from the fish tank filled the silence.
Cassie's tone softened. "I did meet her. Briefly. She invited me to her fan event. But something felt… off."
Vicki scoffed. "Something is always feels off around her."
That caught Cassie's attention. "What do you mean?"
The woman stared at her for a long time, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "She's magnetic. All those fake smiles, soft voices, always bowing and calling people so sweetly, you might think she's an angel. But when you're alone with her… it's like she's a completely different person."
Cassie swallowed. "So she was always… cold?"
"No," Vicki said slowly, as if surprised by her own answer. "When I first met her, she was raw. Like a wild little alley cat. Poor as dirt, desperate for approval. Hungry in ways that weren't just about food."
She paused.
"And then one day she changed. Practically overnight. Got prettier, sharper. More ambitious. She climbed fast. Too fast. I thought it was luck, or timing… but then people started getting hurt."
Cassie leaned forward, her heart pounding. "What kind of people?"
"Stylists," Dana said. "A backup singer. Her vocal coach. They'd get sick, or lose jobs, or have accidents. Nothing that screamed foul play at first. But there was a pattern."
Cassie's fingers trembled slightly. "And you noticed this?"
"Yes. But try saying anything out loud. You'll get blacklisted. Or worse." Vicki's voice dropped. "I left before she could get me too. I was lucky. Maybe."
She looked down at her own chipped nails and floral apron with a bitter smile.
"I thought I'd be doing her a favor, taking her on. I thought I'd made her career. But by the end, I wasn't even sure she was human anymore."
Cassie flinched at the word.
Vicki looked at her. "I don't know what you think you're going to find, but people who get too close to her? They don't come out the same."
Cassie's throat felt dry. "Do you remember anyone named… Marcuk?"
Dana blinked. "Who?"
"He was a backup dancer. Young. About eighteen, maybe. Very talented."
Vicki frowned, searching her memory. "Wait… the boy who collapsed during rehearsals? That was years ago. They said it was sudden cardiac arrest. He was so full of energy too…"
Her voice trailed off.
Cassie's stomach twisted. "So it really happened."
"They swept it under the rug. Didn't even attend his memorial." Vicki shook her head. "He was just gone the next day."
Cassie stepped back from the counter, her heart thrumming with guilt and purpose.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Vicki raised her eyebrows. "You're not planning to do something stupid, are you?"
Cassie gave a faint, wry smile. "Probably."
And then, without waiting for Vicki to stop her, she walked out into the gray light of late afternoon.