The Scumbag's Regret: My Lethal Comeback
Chapter 7
Karina slammed the cold can of cola down onto the coffee table. The carbonated bubbles hissed violently in protest. She picked up the thick stack of bills and flipped through them, page by page.
A Rolex Submariner. A limited-edition Hermès men's bag. The down payment on a Ferrari. Every single staggering purchase had the same name on the receipt: Kole Caldwell.
The original owner's memories flooded her brain like toxic sludge. Standing in the freezing rain at midnight to bring Kole hot soup. Getting cornered and screamed at by Kole's rabid fans. The immediate, cold-blooded ghosting the second Kole got famous.
Karina's eyes grew colder by the second. The temperature in the room plummeted as the raw, suffocating killing intent of a survivor leaked out of her pores.
Sitting across from her, Rachel shivered, instinctively shrinking back into the corner of the sofa. She felt like she was looking at a terrifying stranger.
"This parasite named Kole... he's a guest on Heartbeat Weekly too?" Karina tapped her long finger against the bills. Her voice was so calm it made the hairs on Rachel's arms stand up.
"Yes... he and Candice are the show's main couple. Your current role is just to be the vicious, obsessed ex-girlfriend they use as a stepping stone," Rachel swallowed hard, explaining the reality.
A bloodthirsty smirk curled the corners of Karina's mouth. She tossed the bills back onto the table. "Fine. I'll do the show."
Rachel's eyes widened. She thought she had misheard. "Are you sure? You just publicly insulted Candice! If you go in there, their fans will tear you to pieces!"
"Tear me to pieces?" Karina stood up, looking down at Rachel with absolute disdain. "I'd like to see how hard the bones of these greenhouse flowers really are."
"Also, scan and back up every single one of these receipts. I'm going to make that freeloading parasite vomit up every last cent, with interest." Karina issued the order with military precision.
Rachel was completely dominated by her aura. She found herself nodding obediently, feeling as if she were taking orders from a ruthless general.
"How much is the appearance fee? Is it enough to cover this debt?" Karina immediately pivoted to the practical economics.
"The upfront fee is only five hundred thousand. But if you survive until the final episode without getting voted out, there's a two million dollar grand prize. It would barely cover the hole," Rachel said, quickly flipping through the contract.
"Deal. When do we shoot? What do I need to prepare?" Karina was already in combat mode.
Rachel let out a long breath of relief and pulled out an itinerary. "Tomorrow morning at 8 AM, the production team will send a car. The first stop is the wilderness villa."
"To create hype, the producers want all the female guests dressed to the nines. You need to outshine everyone. Where's that sequined mini-dress you bought?"
Karina pictured the tacky, cheap sequined dress in the closet that barely covered her ass. A look of intense physical disgust crossed her face.
"I threw it away," Karina answered without hesitation. "Wearing that into the wilderness... am I trying to feed the mosquitoes, or am I just trying to die faster?"
Rachel panicked. "But you don't have any sponsors! All the brands are avoiding you! What are you going to wear to outshine Candice? !"
"Playing dress-up is a game for people with no real power." Karina walked to the entryway and grabbed a black windbreaker.
"I have my own methods. Go finalize the contract. Have the driver waiting downstairs at exactly 8 AM." Karina opened the door, dismissing her.
Though full of doubt, Rachel looked at Karina's unquestionable gaze and had no choice but to grab her briefcase and leave.
Once the door clicked shut, Karina walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the massive mirror.
Under the harsh fluorescent light, she stared at the woman looking back at her. Bleached, dead blonde hair. Eyeliner smudged like a raccoon. Lips painted a horrific shade of neon pink.
Her pragmatist war-zone aesthetics suffered a critical hit. She felt physically sick looking at this cheap, vulnerable disguise.
That long hair was a fatal weakness in close-quarters combat. That heavy makeup would cause severe skin infections in extreme environments.
Karina spun around, bolted out of the bathroom, grabbed her wallet and keys, and marched out of the apartment.
Before the cameras rolled tomorrow, she was going to eradicate every single trace of the 'cheap vase' from this body.
Out on the dark streets of Los Angeles, Karina hailed a cab and headed straight for a high-end, late-night salon near Beverly Hills.
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