“You can bring Vance and Margot so they can get to know us all,” Seraphina said.
“Wearepart of the deal,” Esme said. “If he wants to be in your life, he gets us too.”
“Speaking of which,” Delphine said, pulling out her phone. “Have you seen these?”
She turned her screen toward me. A gossip blog post: “Designer’s Secret Romance? Inside Sources Say Sparks Flying Off-Camera.”
My blood went cold.
“There are photos,” Delphine continued, scrolling. “You and Vance at the house. In your studio. One of you outside what looks like … is that your cottage?”
I grabbed her phone. The photos were grainy but unmistakable. Me and Vance talking during a filming break.Another of us standing close together, his hand on my arm. And one—my stomach dropped—of Vance’s car in my driveway.
“Someone’s watching you,” Seraphina said quietly.
“These weren’t taken by paparazzi,” Gillian said, studying the images. “Look at the angles. These were taken from across the street. From a car, maybe.”
“Who would do this?” I asked.
“Someone on the production team,” Delphine said. “Someone who wants to create drama. Or …”
“Or what?”
“Or someone with a personal grudge.” Delphine’s eyes were serious. “Lila, has anyone from your past tried to contact you? Anyone who might have a reason to sabotage you?”
I thought about it. “No. I can’t think of anyone.”
“Well, someone’s documenting your every move,” Esme said. “And they know where you live. That’s … unsettling.”
“There’s something else,” Seraphina said. She pulled up an Instagram account on her phone. “Look at this.”
The account was called @BeauAndLilaForever. Hundreds of posts. Screenshots from the show filming. Photos of Beau. Photos of me. And dozens of posts speculating about our “relationship.”
“This is insane,” I breathed. “Who made this?”
“No idea. But look at the detail.” Seraphina scrolled. “Your coffee order. The fact that Mia takes dance at Gillian’s studio. Your car. Your license plate number.”
Fear prickled down my spine.
“Someone’s stalking you,” Gillian said flatly. “This isn’t just publicity. This is obsessive.”
“Should we call the police?” Esme asked.
“And say what? Someone made a fan page?” I shook my head. “They haven’t done anything illegal. Just … creepy.”
“How is there a fan page when the show hasn’t even aired?” Seraphina asked. “This whole thing’s weird.”
“Unless it’s someone on the set,” I said. “There’s a whole crew.”
“Be careful,” Delphine said. “All of you. If someone’s this obsessed with Lila, they might target anyone close to her.”
We sat in uneasy silence for a moment.
“Maybe it’s just overeager fans,” Esme said hopefully. “The show’s getting buzz. People get excited.”
But none of us really believed that. Like Seraphina said, the show hadn’t even aired.
My friends had left around eight, and I was rinsing wine glasses when someone knocked on my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Mia was upstairs doing homework. I hurried over to look through the window closest to the door.
