Chapter 10: The Hunter

The notification popped up on Elara's phone at 6:47 AM, jarring her awake from the first peaceful sleep she'd had in weeks. She'd fallen asleep thinking about the night before—another secret rendezvous with Liam, this time at a 24-hour bookstore in Silver Lake where they'd spent three hours talking about everything and nothing, hidden among the philosophy stacks like teenagers sneaking around.

But the warm glow of their stolen evening evaporated the moment she saw the alert from her Google notifications: "Starfire spotted: New photos raise questions about Hollywood's hottest couple."

Her blood ran cold as she clicked through to the source—a gossip blog called The Hollywood Hunter, run by someone who went by the anonymous handle @TruthSeeker_LA. The site had a reputation for destroying careers with surgical precision, digging up dirt that other outlets wouldn't touch.

The post was titled "The Cracks in the Fairy Tale: Why Starfire Might Not Be What It Seems."

Fellow truth-seekers, your favorite investigative blogger has been getting some very interesting tips about everyone's beloved #Starfire couple. While the world swoons over Elara Vance and Liam Blackwood's picture-perfect romance, sources close to the production are whispering about some very curious inconsistencies...

Elara's hands shook as she scrolled through what followed—a series of observations that, individually, seemed innocuous but together painted a damning picture. Photos of her and Liam at various events with arrows pointing to their "staged" body language. Screenshots of social media posts with timestamps that suggested careful coordination. A grainy photo of them at the Chateau Marmont dinner where they looked "tense" rather than romantic.

But it was the final paragraph that made her stomach drop:

Sources tell me there's much more to this story than meets the eye. Stay tuned, truth-seekers. Sometimes the biggest lies are hiding in plain sight. And when the truth comes out, it's going to make headlines around the world.

Her phone rang immediately. Miranda's name flashed on the screen.

"Tell me you've seen it," Miranda said without preamble.

"I'm looking at it now." Elara's voice came out as a croak.

"Damage control meeting in my office in one hour. Don't talk to anyone, don't post anything, don't even think about responding."

"Miranda—"

"One hour, Elara. And call Liam. Make sure he knows."

The line went dead, leaving Elara staring at her phone in growing panic. She immediately dialed Liam's number, her heart hammering as it rang.

"You saw it," he said instead of hello, his voice grim.

"How bad is this?"

"Bad. David's been fielding calls since six AM. Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, People Magazine—everyone wants a statement."

"What are we going to tell them?"

"Nothing. Yet. Can you get to Miranda's office?"

"Already on my way."

"Elara?" His voice softened slightly. "We're going to figure this out."

But as she hung up and hurried to get dressed, Elara couldn't shake the feeling that their carefully constructed world was beginning to crumble around them.

---

Miranda's office felt like a war room. The walls were covered with printed screenshots from the blog post, social media reactions, and what looked like a timeline of their public appearances. David was already there when Elara arrived, his usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled.

"How did they get this close?" Elara asked, studying the evidence spread across the conference table.

"Someone's been feeding them information," David said grimly. "These aren't lucky guesses or public observations. This person has access to inside details."

Liam arrived ten minutes later, his face a mask of controlled tension. He'd thrown on jeans and a baseball cap, but even in casual clothes, he radiated the kind of barely contained energy that suggested he was ready for a fight.

"What's our exposure?" he asked without preamble.

Miranda pulled up a tablet, scrolling through what looked like a legal document. "The contract has a morality clause and a disclosure clause. If the studio can prove that either of you has been deliberately misleading them about the nature of your relationship, they can demand repayment of promotional fees, cancel future projects, and potentially sue for damages to the film's marketing campaign."

"How much are we talking about?" Elara asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Conservatively? Eight figures. Each."

The number hung in the air like a death sentence. Elara felt the room spinning slightly and gripped the edge of the table for support.

"But they'd have to prove deliberate deception," David added quickly. "Right now, this is just speculation from an anonymous blogger."

"Anonymous for now," Miranda said darkly. "But if they keep digging..."

Her phone buzzed with an alert. Then David's. Then Liam's. The sound of multiple notifications created a symphony of dread in the small office.

"Shit," Miranda breathed, staring at her screen. "They just posted a follow-up."

The new post was shorter but more targeted: "Exclusive: Inside sources reveal Starfire contract details—was Hollywood's greatest love story actually a business arrangement?"

This time, there were specifics. Not enough to constitute proof, but enough to make it clear that whoever was feeding information to The Hollywood Hunter had access to confidential details about their arrangement.

Word on the street is that our favorite couple's romance began not with sparks flying on set, but with lawyers and publicity teams crafting the perfect narrative. Sources close to the production describe a "meticulously planned PR campaign designed to generate maximum buzz for what was predicted to be a troubled production."

While I can't reveal my sources (yet), I can confirm that certain industry insiders are very concerned about the lengths some studios will go to manufacture buzz. Stay tuned—the truth is coming, and it's going to shock even the most cynical Hollywood watchers.

"Someone on the production team is talking," David said, his voice tight with anger. "This isn't speculation anymore. This is industrial espionage."

"Can we find out who?" Liam asked.

"We're working on it," Miranda replied. "But in the meantime, we need to control the narrative."

"How?"

"By giving them a bigger story to focus on." Miranda turned to face them both. "We're going to need you to amp up the public appearances. More romantic dinners, more affectionate photo ops, maybe even some carefully leaked private moments."

Elara felt something cold settle in her stomach. "You want us to perform even harder?"

"I want you to make this blogger look like a conspiracy theorist chasing shadows."

"And if that doesn't work?" Liam's voice was dangerously quiet.

"Then we prepare for the worst-case scenario."

Before anyone could ask what that meant, Miranda's assistant knocked on the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this."

She handed Miranda a tablet displaying a Twitter thread that was already going viral. The thread was from a verified entertainment reporter with over a million followers:

THREAD: Something's not adding up with #Starfire. Been covering Hollywood romances for 15 years, and I've never seen such perfectly timed "candid" moments. Starting to wonder if we're all being played... 1/12

"It's spreading," the assistant said quietly. "The hashtag #StarfireFake is starting to trend."

Elara felt the walls closing in around her. In a matter of hours, their carefully constructed narrative had gone from bulletproof to swiss cheese, and she could see the panic in Miranda's eyes despite her professional composure.

"We need to make a decision," David said. "Do we get ahead of this story, or do we double down on the current narrative?"

"What does getting ahead of it look like?" Liam asked.

"We could spin it as an evolution. You started as a publicity arrangement but developed real feelings. It's romantic, it's relatable, it's—"

"It's career suicide," Miranda interrupted. "The studio will never forgive that level of deception, even if we frame it positively."

Elara's phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from an unknown number: You have 48 hours to give me an exclusive interview, or I publish everything I have. Including the photos. - Truth Seeker

She showed the message to the others, watching the color drain from Miranda's face.

"Photos?" David asked.

"I don't know what photos they're talking about," Elara said, but even as she said it, her mind was racing through all the secret moments she and Liam had shared. The bookstore. The hiking trail. The diner in Malibu.

"We've been careful," Liam said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Careful enough?" Miranda's tone made it clear she already knew the answer.

The room fell silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of Los Angeles traffic. Elara found herself thinking about the night before, the way Liam had looked at her in the bookstore's soft lighting, the kiss they'd shared between the stacks of poetry books. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Now it felt like evidence in a crime they hadn't realized they were committing.

"We need to make a choice," she said finally. "We can keep lying and hope this person doesn't have enough to destroy us, or..."

"Or?" Liam prompted.

"Or we take control of our own story before someone else does it for us."

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Elara could see something shift in Liam's expression—a decision being made, a line being crossed.

"What are you suggesting?" Miranda asked carefully.

"I'm suggesting that maybe it's time to stop running from the truth."

Outside, Los Angeles continued its relentless pursuit of dreams and fame, but inside Miranda's office, four people sat in silence, contemplating the end of everything they'd worked so hard to build.

The hunter was closing in, and their carefully constructed fairy tale was about to become front-page news.

The only question was: would they control the narrative, or would it control them?