1 Chapter One

Content Warning:

Emotional, Mental, Physical, and Sexual Abuse, Racism, Trauma, Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Nightmares about Traumatic Events, Child Abuse, Xenophobia, Non Consensual Sex, Explicit Sex Scenes, Sexual Predators, Gang Rape, Human Trafficking, Child Exploitation, Gang Violence…

Queen is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgement:

With heartfelt gratitude, I extend my deepest thanks to my friends, editors and beta readers. Your unwavering support and encouragement have fueled my journey. To the characters who have inhabited my imagination, thank you for sharing your stories with me.

Please bookmark and support this book, and consider leaving a review. Your engagement means the world to me.

Warm regards,

LULU

Chapter One

As she stepped onto the red carpet, the world around her was undulating like ripples on a pond. The flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras created a mesmerizing dance of colors, bending and stretching with each pulse of the light waves. To her left, her boyfriend Tae-Yang wore a maroon-red blouse too feminine for her liking, paired with smooth silk Fleur du Mal slacks. Beside her, Darrick stood guard in a simple black outfit. His watchful gaze locked onto the scene of shouts and blinding flashes.

"Kay, over here! Smile for the cameras, baby!"

Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled into the rhythmic ebb and flow of the light as if she'd been caught in a cosmic tide. She knew that it would be like this the moment she stepped out of the limo, however, she wasn't fully prepared for the onslaught no matter how many times she looked into her thirty-thousand-dollar vanity mirror and gave herself a pep-talk. 

She felt a strange detachment from her own body as she moved through the throngs of people. It was as if she were watching herself from a distance, the world around her fading into a blur of colors and sounds. The faces of the photographers seemed to merge into one, their voices blending into a distant hum that barely registered in her consciousness. 

Amidst the chaos of the red carpet, a sense of numbness enveloped her, the constant reminder that she was under a microscope of overwhelming pressure and scrutiny. It was a surreal experience, like being trapped in a dream where reality and illusion melded into one. She couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, an observer peering into a world that was both alluring and alienating.

"Kay Olivia, can we get a comment on your up-and-coming album?" The paparazzi's voices pierced through the chaotic buzz of the red carpet. She knew better than to allow them to pressure her into talking about her 'up and coming album' that didn't even exist. Now she wanted to know who told them that she was in the works for writing and releasing an album. They continued their march through the crowd of celebrities, journalists, and executives. Darrick had the palm of his hand resting on the smalls of her back guiding her steps, attempting to soothe her anxiety.

As the flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras relentlessly assaulted her senses, she felt a searing intensity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of her being. Each burst of light was like a dagger, stabbing into her eyes with relentless precision. The brightness was blinding and overwhelming, and she could feel her vision becoming obscured by a cascade of stars dancing in her line of sight.

Now she wished she hadn't listened to Tae-Yang and brought her gold Chanel clutch along with her so she could have at least worn her aviator glasses. She wished she had worn her soft white chinchilla coat so she could haphazardly hide her face so her eyes would stop burning. She wanted to hide behind Darrick all night and stay in his shadow of protection. 

"I can't see," she muttered under her breath, the paralyzing brightness triggering a surge of anxiety. It was her first time on the red carpet in a year, and the flashing lights only reminded her of the reasons why she didn't enjoy red carpet walks. 

Blinking rapidly, she struggled to maintain her composure, but the onslaught of flashes was unrelenting. It was as if the paparazzi were determined to capture every moment of her existence, to immortalize her in the annals of celebrity lore. Darrick was like a reassuring presence grounding her amidst the storm. 

'Thank God for Darrick,' she thought with a pang of sorrow and appreciation. He had been someone she'd seek solace in during the darkest era of her career. Darrick was the Siegfried to her Kriemhild, fighting against the onslaught of paparazzi and anyone who opposed her. He kept her somewhat stable during her 'sophomore slump' and somewhat steered her away from drinking herself into an alcoholic stupor.

"Are you okay?" Darrick whispered urgently in her ear, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of voices and camera clicks. He gestured impatiently for her boyfriend Tae-Yang to move faster, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Get me the fuck away from these animals," she whispered back. He stood before her, his protective stance a shield against the onslaught of cameras and shouting voices.

"Hey!" His voice boomed above the din, commanding attention as he engaged in a tense standoff with the paparazzi. His words were firm, commanding them to back off and give her space. Caught amid the commotion, she felt overwhelmed, her senses assaulted from all sides. She felt like the walls were slowly closing around her.

"Kay O can we get a comment on why you slap Kiza Tatiago!" Someone yelled at her. She felt a stab of irritation at the mention of the Queen of Snakes. She didn't want to think about what happened that day on Pop Vulture. She had never forgotten how her heart sank when Kiza confronted her about allegations of betrayal and fraternization. Kiza Tatiago had gotten exactly what she deserved that day. The only regret she felt was the fact that her label had gotten a blowback of bad press alongside her. 

The comment she wanted to give would only make her situation worse. She had already ruined so much of her brand that giving any comment on the situation would only leave a sour taste in the mouth of any corporate bigwig. Even if she made an apologetic comment on the matter, they would take it as a slight and pick it apart. The questions were the worst part of walking red carpets, it was always too much for her. She could never answer the questions the way she wanted to. She always had to beat around the bush and give politically correct answers or ignore them altogether.

'I wished I slapped that stupid bitch harder.' she thought bitterly. She knew she couldn't say her true thoughts out loud. Her only other regret besides her label being dragged into her bullshit was the fact that she had placed herself on a lot of talk show hosts and interviewee's shit list. 

"Kay O when are you making your grand come back?!" someone else shouted. She was planning on coming back, she no longer wanted to be in the spotlight. All she really wanted to do was sink away and sleep.

She was longing for the quiet sanctuary of her bed, She wished she could escape from the chaos surrounding her. She remembered her first time walking the carpet in her custom-made white Gabbana dress. She looked like a pretty little southern bride being ushered down a bloodstained aisle. Each step she made filled her heart with a sense of accomplishment. That was only one of two times in her career when she was truly happy. Everything during her first year was perfect. She didn't have a worry in the world during her first walk. She was dew-eyed and new, she was living her dream. In reality, she was trading something she could never have back. 

"Kay O! Kay O!" She was feeling suffocated. 

She remembered when she was a little girl and all she wanted to do was walk this red carpet and pose at every camera shutter. Now she was walking down the very same carpet she dreamed about and all she wanted to do was go home and crawl under her thick sheets and sleep for the rest of her life, or until Hollywood deemed her irrelevant.

When she was new to the scene she would stand and have full-blown conversations with some of them. She genuinely wanted to know what life was like for them on the other side of her world. She was green then, and didn't fully understand just how things went in the valley. She regretted treating them like people because they acted more like wild animals. She should have been taking notes on how the other celebrities around her operated. They avoided them like the plague at every turn or completely ignored them if possible. She had made them feel too comfortable, she had made herself too accessible.

"KAY OLIVIA LOOK OVER HERE!" The flash left biting stars in her eyes leaving marks in their wake and no matter how much she blinked she couldn't stop the blurry shadows from dancing. 

"Olivia, is it true that you're leaving your current label and moving to Sony?!" There had been a time at the beginning of her career when she debated on whether or not she was going to move from Hitcon to Sony. However, the rumor was nearly four years old and held no real weight anymore. She was satisfied with her contract and every year she was able to renegotiate her terms, her pay, and her budget. Sony had reached out to her last year and offered her a quarter million dollars for a management deal. But she wasn't pleased with their contacts and her lawyer had advised against it.

All she could hear amidst the relentless snapping of cameras was the uproar of chatter and laughter from the VMA crowd.

snap snap snap

She tried to distract herself from the noise. She thought about her bed, the warm soft sheets against her skin, how she could cover her entire body in complete darkness and sink away into nothingness and tune out everyone. But then she remembered that she couldn't think about her bed without thinking about the man next to her. 

Tae-Yang…

Tae-Yang Haung, lightweight boxer…

Tae-Yang the agile, light on his feet, three-time winner of the IBF Lightweight championship.

She loathed him with every fiber of her being. He was supposed to be nothing more than a pawn in her grand master plan, a temporary distraction to stoke jealousy. Yet, despite her intentions to force him away, he had managed to entangle himself in her life, carve a lane for himself amidst her stardom, and bore himself right into her legacy. 

Tae-Yang reveled in her spotlight, basking in the wakes of fame and fortune. He believed himself to be a superstar, oblivious to the harsh realities of Hollywood.

But she knew the truth.

He was nothing but a pretender, a shadow in a world of smoke and mirrors.

snap snap snap

'Kay O can we get a comment about the current love of your life?!' Someone yelled from her far right. She hadn't meant for her and Tae-Yang to get as far as they did. He was only supposed to be a tool for her to use. She had only wanted him around as long as she needed him. But her plans had blown up in her face. Their love life was nonexistent. The only thing that kept her with Tae-Yang was her pride and the fear she felt whenever she thought of leaving him.

He would tell the world about what she had done last year. 

He would expose her darkest secrets.

She knew that she couldn't just leave him.

She had done all of this to herself.

She had put herself in this position.

snap snap snap

She watched Tae-Yang out of the corner of her eye as he looked at the red carpet with a child-like wonder. She could see the stars in his eyes as he took in the golden glow that radiated around them.

In the beginning, she thought she could make their farce of a relationship work even though she was never one hundred percent attracted to him. That wasn't to say that he wasn't attractive and aesthetically pleasing to look at. Tae-Yang's body was a testament to power and agility, sculpted by years of boxing. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, each movement exuding strength. With broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he possessed the precision and intensity of a fighter.

He just lacked the dick to match it.

He was rarely ever good for much of anything besides a somewhat decent, but unsatisfying fuck. She would never forget how disappointed she was the first night they spent together. 

She hadn't even felt it when he slipped himself into her. She did however feel the slap across her face when she laughed and attempted to push him off of her. He had wrapped his hand so tight around her throat that she couldn't even gasp, then he forced himself into a place she'd never fucked before.

She had learned very fast that he was a mummer's farce. He had shown her very quickly that night that he was not the sweetheart she thought he was. 

Tae-Yang was like a taut string waiting to snap. Tae-Yang was a controlling manipulative narcissist that insisted on controlling every aspect of their public image, from their poses to their expressions, the things they talked about in the public eyes, and even down to what they wore on public outings. 

Beneath his perfect skin, chiseled features, and narrowing dark eyes hid something sinister. 

He had punched her so hard in the stomach when they'd gotten into an argument that she threw up all over her marble floor. She felt like she was going to die that night too.

She was planning on taking those secrets to her grave. She was never going to tell the public what went on behind her closed doors. 

He came from a rich well-respected Korean family and she wasn't stupid, she had seen what happened to people who tried to speak out. What happened with Tina was more than enough for her to understand what would happen to her.

'If only you people knew…' she thought mournfully as she looked at the faces of the paparazzi smiling and jeering at them.

"Get back," Darrick yelled, pulling her back into the onslaught of lights. How did Darrick allow them to get this close to her? He was always supposed to keep them at bay and at arm's length just in case. She would never allow them to have the opportunity to get that close to her. Not the paparazzi, not her industry peers, not even her friends. She had a six feet policy when walking any carpet of any kind. After what had happened between herself and her rival Cindy Westin last year, there would never be another red carpet brawl.

"Clear the walkway!" he screamed, pointing to the red ropes, directing them all back to their places in their world. 

As they navigated the bustling crowd dodging and ducking past celebrities, she overheard two models chatting excitedly about their latest Louis Vuitton purchases.

"I just got the new bag, you know, with the golden accessories?" one model gushed.

"Oh, I saw that one! They only made like six of them. I'm on backorder." the other replied with equal enthusiasm.

"Did you see Brenda with that knock-off…" the first model trailed before they both cackled. She shuttered in disgust as she thought back to herself. There was a time in her first year when she acted exactly like them. Chasing after designer labels and seeking validation from others by way of material possessions.

She once had the mindset that the only thing in this world that really mattered was what your money could buy.

She was just a ghetto little black girl from the harshest part of Georgia, who didn't know anything outside of the Four Seasons. So naturally when she got her first and only advancement she felt the need to prove her worth through the way of materialism. She was filling an insecurity in her heart with lavish gifts.

 Despite her distaste for Birkin bags, she wasn't strong enough to resist the fad of buying them. She liked the attention she garnered from posting photos of her latest investments on Instagram. It was a game of appearances, where the message conveyed by the bag far outweighed her preferences. The attention she garnered from flaunting her opulent possessions was intoxicating, feeding into her desire for validation and recognition. 

Now she couldn't help but feel a twinge of shallowness creep into her thoughts as she realized how deeply she had immersed herself in the world of materialism. It was a stark realization that she had been chasing after an illusion, driving herself into a cycle of superficiality and emptiness. She had almost gone crazy had it not been for her boss.

"What are you going to do with all those bags Ms. Faison?" He had asked her once when she had given him a tour of her newly purchased four-million-dollar mansion. She had scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, she hadn't even realized how ridiculous she looked. She was trying to show off to someone who had more money than she could ever even dream of.

"What do you mean?" She had an attitude because it sounded like he was mocking her.

"This is a collection." He did a fast chuckle of amusement before quickly composing himself. He had broken and simultaneously reeled her back into the reality of what real money was.

"Those are not worth anything…" She would never forget how hard and fast her heart sunk into her stomach. She had felt so stupid. He had explained to her in great detail that unless she was on a special registry and her bags were authenticated she didn't have an actual collection. 

"Well… I mean they might have some kind of value to you…" He'd trailed off and diverted the conversation to something else. He's possibly picked up on her embarrassment. She just had a bunch of bags that only had as much value as she thought they had. 

 She had never toured her house to anyone ever again after that. 

He had been a part of the reason why her illusion of Hollywood and celebrity culture shattered like glass under a sledgehammer's blow.

 For so long, she had gazed up at this world with starry eyes, clinging to the belief that it was all glitz and glamor. But he, with his unwavering honesty, tore down the facade, revealing the gritty reality of Hollywood.

It wasn't just about stepping into a studio and getting on a mic and rapping; it was about the relentless hustle, the constant push to market, promote, and keep the audience engaged. She had to become a master of self-promotion, a curator of her own brand, selling not just her music, but herself, her personality, and if it came down to it, her body.

It hadn't taken her long to let the fame get to her head and with the fame came power. By the time her first year ended and her second year was in full effect. She had created a bubble of self-importance. She felt in that small amount of time in her first two years that everything was perfect. She had felt like God had given her everything she prayed for. During her first and second years, she felt like she could do whatever she wanted. Flirt with whomever she wanted, say whatever she wanted to say to whoever she wanted to say it to. 

But her Momma had told her something that she thought about every night.

"The devil can give gifts too." she reminded her during an impromptu trip before her tour kicked off.

Her self-created bubble burst by the time her third year came and all of a sudden everything went south. She was no longer the industry's hottest bitch. She looked up one day and all she saw was bad press. Year three was the start of her downfall, everything had started shifting. She had lost her friends, and she was wielding her fans as a weapon against people she didn't like. She was going on rants every other week, complaining about how the industry was against her. She hadn't had these types of problems during her golden years. She was ill-equipped to deal with the negativity that was brewing during her sophomore slump. 

God had swiftly knocked her off her pedestal and hit her with a very large dose of retribution. She felt like God was slowly taking back everything he'd given to her. She didn't understand what flipped the switch. In one swoop the internet was turning on her. Her popularity had decreased and she felt like she had her back against the wall. She had the awards and the Grammy trophies. The three-time platinum albums back to back to back. She had everything, and she was the most miserable person in Hollywood.

Her twenty thousand dollar sheets didn't keep her warm at night like they did in the beginning. She had started staying up all night staring up at her ceiling. She came home to an empty but full house, she had things, she had jewelry, she had bags, she had shoes, she had things sure... But things didn't keep her company. She looked around her friend group and realized she didn't have any real friends. The friends she did have could only talk about Louis Vuitton and Givenchy, or go on a long monologue about how they were planning a very expensive vacation to Turks and Caicos. Nothing was making her happy, but on the outside looking in she had it all.

There were girls she had grown up with that would kill her to have this life. They wouldn't care if they had to sit alone in her house. They wouldn't care if they had four cars they'd never drive sitting in the driveway. They wouldn't care if all the friends they had brought no substance to them. They wouldn't care if people just wanted them around for the look. She was rich and rich people couldn't be miserable.

She couldn't just get on Instagram Live and rant and rave about how her quarter million dollar Birkin bag collection didn't put a smile on her face when she walked into her closet the way it did in the beginning. She had everything her child self wanted but down in her heart, she had nothing. She was a hollow empty person, just another Hollywood celebrity masking their pain with diamond trinkets.

Her third year had made her think twice about her life choices. It had gotten to a point where she didn't even want to crawl out of her bed. She was drinking a fifth of Vodka just to get through her day. It had gotten to the point that she was stumbling into her workplace so drunk that it was verging on belligerency. People started to notice and eventually, it reached her boss. She'd broken down in his arms and sobbed like a baby. She was attempting to cope the only way she had known how.

The pressure she was under was too much for her to handle.

For months she was drowning in the numbness of alcohol, she'd found herself teetering on the edge of despair. The constant never-ending scrutiny of the public eye had become suffocating, and the more she felt suffocated the more she drank. Desperate for a lifeline, she grasped at any semblance of control, even as it slipped through her trembling fingers. 

She had everyone against her in her third year and she needed to win back her public perception. She needed to turn the tides of the storm on the horizon. She was already selling sex, and at the time she felt like it wouldn't hurt to just sell a little bit more. She needed to sway the public into loving her again. When Vogue had come to her with the proposition of doing a photoshoot for their summer cover she knew she couldn't decline the offer. It was exactly what she wanted when she was a child.

They had then talked her into doing a nude spread.

Everyone around her and in her friend group had said she should do it. That she would feel powerful, that she was a liberated woman. She was young and pretty and she could still be Hollywood's it girl. The only person who attempted to persuade her opinion was her boss. She had ignored his concern and he had allowed her to do as she pleased. But when she stood in front of the photographer and his team were all looking at her body the only thing she felt was shame and regret.

She had never forgotten when the photographer accidentally brushed his hand down her back and rubbed her ass when they were alone. She didn't tell anyone that he had propositioned her to do a private photo shoot and offered to get her front-row seats to Paris Fashion Week or to get her into the fashion world of Hollywood. 

"It's the most prestigious show in the world…." She had felt so sick as she clutched onto the robe someone on his team had given her. 

"You know Music doesn't last forever Kay O… You might want to start branching out…" She just smiled and told him to get in contact with her boss if he wanted to inquire about any business concerning her. She wasn't a fool; she knew what he was asking, but she couldn't confront him the way she most likely would have in her first and second years. 

She had to brush it off and pretend like it didn't happen. She had to go back in front of him in nothing and smile and pose like she didn't feel disgusted with herself. Like she didn't see the way he was looking at her. She had to put on a brave front and when she got back to her empty home and showered, only then did she cry her little heart out.

She had gotten the public's attention, she had trended for an entire week, and the internet was buzzing about what she would do next. She had successfully gone viral and all it took was for her to get naked. But it had come with a price, she had sold part of herself even though she was happy for her career. In her real life, within the depths of her subconscious, she felt shameful. It had only hurt more and the shame only stabbed deeper in her heart when her Momma called.

"I didn't raise a hussy!" Her Momma had scolded her and all she could do was lay back in her bed and listen. 

"I raised you with morals Olivia!"

"What am I supposed to say when I go to church on Sunday and everyone's looking me upside my head?!" She didn't tell her Momma that she regretted it.

"How am I supposed to look at Pastor Turner and the congregation after this?!" She didn't say anything the whole time she berated her. Not when she called her a "Stupid bitch" or a "Jezebel" or a "Chicken head." All she could do when her Momma hung up on her was cry and hide away. She didn't even bother going to Thanksgiving or Christmas that year. She couldn't bring herself to look her Momma or her siblings in the face and see the disappointment in their eyes. 

They didn't understand what it was like in Hollywood, they didn't know the pressure or the scrutiny that she was under. They didn't understand that she had to sell something and that what she thought was right or wrong didn't matter when millions of dollars were at stake.

Everything had a price.

Even if her Momma didn't want to hear it, she had a price too.

Her third year was her wake-up call to the realness of what being a celebrity really meant. She had to make hard choices for herself and they were make-or-break decisions. She was either going to fuck and suck her way to fame or compromise her morals.

 The only thing that truly saved her was her boss. Despite what her mother thought about him. He was her true and only light in the dark expanse of Hollywood and he kept her from the more seedier aspects of their world.

Her family didn't know anything about the hidden parts of Hollywood or how depraved it was. She had gotten three dark red envelopes in her third year, invited to a masquerade party in the hidden hills. She went to the only person who would possibly know anything. 

Her boss. 

She had never seen him snatch anything or look as disgusted as he did when she showed him the envelopes. He had told her in a very cold, almost threatening manner.

"Never go to those types of parties." When she attempted to ask why he abruptly stood up from his desk and walked her to the door, rambling something in his native language. 

"I'll handle it…" was the only thing he said to her before shooting her a reassuring but tight smile. Whatever he did stopped the red letters from coming to her mailbox but it only made her more curious.

She later discovered from an industry insider, always at the pulse of the scene and renowned for her connections, that these were no ordinary parties. They were exclusive gatherings, held quarterly, reserved only for the elite. Here, judgment was left at the door. It was a sanctuary where one could seamlessly transition into new realms without the toil of hard work. It served as a haven for celebrities of all echelons, indulging freely in substances and desires without inhibition. It was the last resort, the final frontier where one surrendered their brand, their essence, and their very being to the relentless demands of the industry.

 She was forever thankful that she hadn't done what she originally planned on doing. She had been planning to attend just to see what the fuss was about. He had made her more aware and conscious about the type of parties she was invited to. She was running any and every invite she had gotten just to be sure, it wasn't a setup. She'd also made sure to force him to attend with her as a safeguard. 

She wasn't that desperate in her third year, even with the public and the industry against her. Even when the headlines painted her in less favorable lights. Even when the TMZ put out reports of her sleeping with every man she could get her hands on. She was still able to keep that little part of herself, something not too many of her peers could say. She refused to be another plagued figure like Rachael Gardener or Tina Aviani.

As if on cue, she crossed paths with the infamous Tinsel Tina, whose notoriety and beauty still reverberated through the corridors of Hollywood's scandalous history. She and Tina were parallels of each other—both driven by ego, both heedless of the emotions of others, even those closest to them. Fueling their ambition with cutting remarks, each vied for dominance on the social ladder.

She had grown up watching Tina, her favorite movie with her was Serendipity starring Brian Aflec. She owned every poster, and every box set of the Fading Hearts TV series, she knew all her iconic lines, her favorite color, and the type of food she liked. To put it bluntly, she was a Tina Aviani superfan. At one point she had even thought that she would grow up to be a world-renowned actor just like Tina.

Unbeknownst to her younger self as she watched Tina, Hollywood was breaking her down. She had gotten into drugs and alcohol which forced her to go down a dark path. She went from Hollywood's Media Darling who could do no wrong to Tinsel Tina, princess of the Casting couch.

Every other week tabloids ran stories airing all of her dirty laundry for the public to turn on her. Then co-stars went on daytime television shows to share their horror stories. They had said that she was driven by ego, vanity, and spite. Unapologetically knocking down anyone who threatened her position in the limelight. 

Tina was a cutthroat bitch.

No one was spared in her climb to the top, she had slept her way into the biggest movie director's lap. Then the one thing no celebrity ever wanted to happen happened. Her sex tape was mysteriously dropped and passed around until it made it to TMZ. Tina's legacy was officially ruined and she never recovered. 

 It took one wrong move, one miscalculated step, if you pissed off the wrong person in Hollywood, you were as good as dead. Everything you thought you had could disappear right from under you. 

She wasn't sure if Tina was everything they said she was, but she had learned by watching her downfall that in Hollywood you kept those secrets to yourself. She was never going to tell anyone what happened with Alexander Wolf at that photoshoot, not even her boss. Not any of her so-called friends, not her Momma, her sister, or her daddy. She was going to keep secrets, even if she had to cry herself to sleep until the ends of time. She was going to keep her mouth shut.

She had met Racheal Gardener once at an industry party she had dragged her boss to. She found her to be the sweetest girl she had ever met. Looking at her, one would have never thought she was capable of doing the things she had done. She looked so innocent, like a porcelain doll. But she later found out that her looks were deadly, and her sweet charismatic persona was a facade. Rachael was a two-faced double-crossing opportunist. That had been the one thing she and Racheal had in common.

She had been the Racheal of her friend group. She had been the type of friend she had sworn in her youth never to be. She had been raised with morals, she knew right from wrong, and she knew that betraying your childhood friend was a low blow. That hadn't stopped her from doing what she did.

During the beginning of her third year, four months before her sophomore slump had hit its full effect her best friend of sixteen years had come to her.

"You want me to hook you up with him?!" She questioned, folding her arms over her chest.

"Mmh…" Jasmine hummed with a smile before shifting uncomfortably.

"He's so fucking lame…." She shrugged.

"Don't judge me… I think he's kinda cute…"

It was never supposed to go the way it did. It was supposed to be a fun game for her. She liked the hunt because he'd made it easy to mess with him. He was always so calm and she just wanted to see if she could make him break. It was supposed to serve as a distraction from the devoidness of Hollywood.

But deep down inside she didn't want Jasmine to be happier than her. She didn't want her friend to have the happiness she thought she deserved. She allowed her competitive nature to grab hold of her and lock her into a dangerous mission.

Once her slump hit its peak all she had was him, and if Jasmine had taken him from her, then she would have been alone. She had needed him more than Jasmine did.

They had a history that was forged in shared moments of vulnerability and understanding, woven together by the threads of trust and companionship. He had seen her through her lowest points, he had been the one to comfort her when she wanted to give up.

He had made her feel something she hadn't felt in all the three years that she'd been thrown into the mouth of the beast. He'd made her feel like there wasn't any hurt in her heart.

She remembered that night like it was yesterday, forever playing in her mind like a movie on a loop. She remembered when Jasmine stormed into their shared penthouse during Manhattan Fashion Week and threw her phone at her with all her force, then proceeded to charge at her and hit her with a slew of punches.

"How could you do that to me!?" she exploded, her fury manifesting in a thunderous punch that sent her reeling backward.

"How long have you been fucking him?!" She had busted her lip wide open and she struggled to regain composure, the echoes of their private fallout reverberating within the confined space. At that moment in time, she didn't care about who she hurt because she was hurting internally.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me, Kay." Jasmine said, her voice trembling with hurt and betrayal.

He had made her feel good in more ways than one.

She had rationalized in her mind that she had created Jasmine, she had catapulted her into a world far out of her reach. Jasmine was in her shadow and no one in her shadow was going to be happy.

She deserved to be the one with the happy ending.

"Because I fucking wanted to!"

Her boss had been the one to break up the fight.

"Jasmine doesn't even like you —," she told him as he ushered her into his bathroom, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He silently attended to her wounds, dabbing at her lip with an alcohol pad, his expression unreadable. She felt a pang of guilt when he didn't respond to her.

She had been honest with Jasmine when she told her that she didn't want him. She honestly didn't at first, she thought he was boring. She thought he would be a boring fuck, she thought he would be a blank canvas of nothingness. She had thought he was typical and unassuming. He was the man in the room that you would never take a second glance at.

No one even thought twice about him.

She had never looked at him twice until Jasmine started pointing things out to her.

"He just had this aura around him, ya know," Jasmine said wistfully.

Jasmine was right.

His quietness was a mask, he had a lot of hobbies, he was talkative but you had to get him comfortable first. He was a champagne and dinner on Wednesday nights type of guy. He was the I'm going to pamper you everyday type of guy.

He was like a flame and she was a little itty bitty moth trying to get caught in said flame.

He had something that drew her in.

And she repaid her friendship of sixteen years by stealing him right from under her.

Out of all of her little secrets, that one would be the damming of them all..

"Stop!" Tae-Yang wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back swiftly, twirling her around to face him. 

"Don't you hear me talking to you?!" She looked into his dark brown eyes, studying his features. 

"What?" she was annoyed and had this twinge of sadness poking at her heart. She wasn't in the mood to deal with Tae-Yang on a night like this. She looked past him and to Darrick who looked to Tae-Yang as if he was waiting for the go-ahead to move him from her space. She didn't want to cause more of a scene than she was already causing. 

"Where about to get to the part of the carpet where we take photos," he said, equally annoyed brushing the curls out of her face and looking over her. All she could do was roll her eyes and snare at him. She couldn't wait to get inside and sit down. He would leave her alone then, so he could go socialize with the other posers and play pretenders.

"I wanted to make sure you looked perfect." If she could she would have pushed him but she had to pretend that they were as perfect on the outside as they were on the inside. She had wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him into an unexpected hug. They never touched each other unless they really needed to.

"You look like a bitch in that shirt, I hate it." He yanked her back and scrunched up his face before putting his facade back on. He muttered something in Korean as he smoothed out his shirt before nodding and smiling. Moving closer to her he'd pulled her by the waist and kissed her hard. He had slipped his tongue into her mouth, licking the inside of her cheek. She could still taste the French 75 he had in the car. He'd quickly peppered her face in hard sloppy kisses causing the cameras to flock around them.

There was nothing adorable or cute about what they were doing even though it would be marketed as such. 

"Maybe if you used your tongue more, I might want to fuck you." she spat in a low disgusted tone. Tae-Yang had pinched her sides hard. She had almost struggled to maintain her composure. This is what her and Tae-Yang's battleground looked like. They played the industry game. She had learned to navigate the treacherous waters of pretend with practiced ease. 

Tae-Yang kissed her cheek again leaning over, never breaking eye contact with the cameras, and cupping his hand over her ear before whispering to her.

" Maybe tonight, I'll hogtie you and fuck you up the ass." That wasn't a threat, he was making a very dark promise and it hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"But if you're good I won't tie you up…" he taunted, his tone laced with sadistic pleasure. 

"I like it when you run." Her entire body tensed, every muscle coiling in instinctual defense against his looming presence. He had straightened himself back out and waved to the camera, while she smiled and pretended like nothing was wrong. He slid his hand into hers and gripped it hard, almost like he wanted to break it. 

They were a volatile mix, their interactions fraught with tension and animosity. Tae-Yang's temper was as unpredictable as a ticking time bomb, and she often found herself walking on eggshells around him, never knowing what might set him off next. 

She goaded him intentionally, a silent rebellion against the constraints he imposed on her in public. He would never smack her here, not in front of so many eyes and cameras. They couldn't let the outside world see that. They had to maintain the facade of a happy, successful couple, even if it meant burying their true feelings deep beneath a layer of carefully crafted lies.

"Kay Olivia!"

Leave me the fuck alone…

"Kay O! Look over here!"

No, fuck you…

"Who is your favorite new rap girly, Kay O?!"

Myself.

"You look so beautiful tonight."

You look cheap… Green is not your color.

"Is it true that you've been shelved?!"

Shelved?!

"Can we get a comment on the rumors?"

'Which ones…' she thought. There were so many rumors surrounding her that she stopped keeping up with them.

"Is it true that you're engaged, Kay O?!" Someone yelled in her direction.

That hit a nerve.

She would have kept going and ignored them but Tae-Yang…

Tae-Yang loved soaking up the spotlight. He'd pulled her into a warm embrace and stopped her from rushing forward.

'I hate you so much,' she seethed in her mind, her thoughts filled with bitterness and anger.

"She's the woman of my dreams." He kissed the top of her head and looked at the reporter.

"Well… I don't know if we're ready to settle down just yet…" she placed her hand on his chest and smiled.

"I'm still so young, and life is too short to settle down so early." She knew what she was doing, she knew that people would speculate on her every word. The internet sleuths love deep diving and giving long reports on celebrities. They loved pretending to be armchair psychologists, reading every movement of her body. Tae-Yang knew it too. He had swiftly dragged her away in a hurry with Darrick in right behind them. 

Despite Derrick's discreet glances of concern, Tae-Yang seemed determined to dominate the scene, dragging her along like a reluctant accessory. He was trying to keep her at his side all night as a punishment for what she said earlier. He knew that she hated the never ending merry go round of the red carpet. He never let Darrick get too close to them either. In all honesty, she would rather him do this than chase her around her mansion.

As the questions and comments continued to bombard her, she felt her frustration mounting. Tonight was not about entertaining anyone. For her, it was about surviving. She needed to get through the night and keep her head up high. She wasn't the young, naive starlet from three years ago; she was damn near a seasoned veteran of the industry...

Derrick stepped to the side, clearing the path for her and Tae-Yang to take photos for Cloverfield. She smoothed down her dress, the fabric cool against her skin, and adjusted her platinum blond barrel curls, ensuring every strand fell just right. Everything had to be perfect, she and Tae-Yang needed to look perfect. It made her stomach churned with nerves.

 She forced a smile and gently placed her hands on Tae-Yang's chest as a photographer made a pleasant remark about her dress.

It was a blood-red dress with a plunging neckline that accentuated her favorite body part. The side stitching was adorned with intricate crimson rubies and hand-sewn Swarovski diamonds, each detail intricately crafted to perfection. 

The dress screamed opulence.

It screamed pretentious.

It screamed that she was a young woman with money to burn.

It was everything she thought it would be when she opened the box the night before. It fitted around her body, clinging to her like a second skin. Anyone with good taste and eye for fashion could tell that it was custom-made specifically for her.

She hated it. 

She would have rather worn her moo-moo and her bunny slippers than to wear this dress. It was just another reminder that she was living in a shallow world. It reminded her that she was a walking advertisement.

 But she was never going to turn down wearing something from one of the most harrowled designers in the world. When Donatella Versace called her that morning she knew that she couldn't say no. She knew she couldn't ask any question or get any details, she knew she couldn't tell her that she would think about it. 

"Yes of course!" They had chatted for another thirty minutes on the phone before she hung up. Her dress showed up at her doorstep in a sleek black versace box and on top sat a note and a bundle of red roses.

"For the reigning princess of rap, may this gown enhance your radiance on the red carpet stage 

- Donatella."

She had made the connection and left an imprint on her.

That was the game.

She had played the game.s

As she scanned the swarm of people surrounding her, her gaze landed on a well-known actor, Michael Reynolds. He had once tried to seduce her by offering expensive jewelry, hoping to win her affection with material offerings. Maybe if she was still a newbie she would have fallen for the trap he was setting for her. She watched him discreetly, noting the subtle gestures that signaled he was seeking cocaine.

She hadn't been saved from the pressure of indulging in blow. It just wasn't something she cared that much for; she could never get over the burning sensation she felt in her nose. It was everywhere, even here at a Red Carpet party; any drug she desired she could obtain. You just had to have the money to buy it, and it was three times the price here.

She wondered how many celebrities she would catch sneaking off to the bathroom tonight. She pondered, her mind ticking through the possibilities. 

'A dozen?' Twelve was too low of a number.

'Twenty?' That was still too low of a number compared to the sea of faces before her. . Despite the crowd of smiling white teeth celebrities, she felt an eerie sense of solitude surrounding her. 

Amidst the rows of empty champagne glasses, she felt like a stranger in a strange land. She no longer had looked at this world as a willing participant. She felt more like an outsider looking in on a world as if she was an alien. In the midst of it all, she knew her part. She knew her role, knew the game she had to play. She plastered on a smile, a facade of happiness masking the emptiness within.

"Left then right and strike a pose," Tae-Yang's command snapped her out of her internal turmoil, his grip on her hands painful as he pulled her closer, his eyes focused on the photographer. Without hesitation, he lifted her left thigh, positioning them into a more provocative stance. She felt a surge of hatred. His hand slid up the slit of her dress, to grasp her ass, a smug grin plastered on his face.

She struggled to contain her disgust and anger as she complied with his demands. It felt as though she was a caged bird, forced to dance to their tune. Despite her best efforts, her smile remained forced, her laughter hollow as she obediently followed his lead.

"Stop it," she hissed at him as he attempted to grab her ass for the fourth time, swiftly swatting his hand away. She was done pretending and playing the pretty girlfriend role. She was sick of smiling, her cheekbones were starting to hurt and her feet were getting sore. The more she smiled, the more she felt her heart turn black. She just wanted to go inside and be done with the carpet. She wanted to sit down, get her awards, sit back down and go home. She was going to lock Tae-Yang out of her bedroom before he made it up the stairs.

With a sigh and a deep breath, she hit him with her puppy dog eyes. She knew that all he wanted was to hear her beg.

"Please…" she conceded, she was exhausted, and all he wanted was for her to beg him to stop dragging her around. His eyes lit up with joy and sick amusement.

"What did you say, baby?" she looked up at him and faked a yawn.

"Can we please go inside, I'm so tired of all these lights." She trapped his hand in hers. He had a smirk on his face before it fell into a look of concern as he took her face into his hands and caressed her cheeks.

"Are you tired, baby?" he questioned. 

She was tired, she was sick of him. She was tired of looking into his dark murky brown eyes. She was tired of pretending like she was in love with him. She wanted him to disappear and get the fuck out of her face.

"I'm going to die of exhaustion, Daddy," she exclaimed, caressing his face the same way. The cameras were eating their interactions up. He would let her die of exhaustion; that would only boost his own stardom. He would bask in the attention he got if she died. He would pretend to be this broken sad man and capitalize off her death like a vulture. A lot of people in her circle would flock to her corpse and pick every last piece of flesh off her bones.

That was all it took for him to usher her right off the carpet and walk her to the lobby of the Kia Forum. She had won her first battle and now she was stepping directly into the devil's den to fight the war. The game was now going to shift from who could outdress who to who could hold a conversation the best. She was about to be in a room of stars and the only thing that mattered was which star in the room was going to outshine who.

As she walked with Tae-Yang at her right clutching her hand tightly in his, she could feel his anticipation coursing through his blood. Darrick stood close to her with his palm once again resting on her back rubbing circles into her skin. He wouldn't be able to protect her here. She was dreading that he was about to make himself scarce. He was going to play the background and she wouldn't see him until the award show ended. She was about to have some of the most empty conversations of her life.

It was going to be just her and Tae-Yang, hamming it up for the people, and they were about to play a game of complex social chess.