Chapter 2

"Aren't you filming that reality show, Celebrity Survival Challenge? I heard they're looking for a guest star for the next episode."

"Do you think... you could let Chloe have that slot?"

Of course. Three whole months of neglect, and the only reason they summoned me for family dinner was this. They had been waiting for this moment.

I clenched my fists in my lap. "That show is physically grueling. Chloe has zero television experience. If she messes up, the public backlash will be brutal."

Chloe piped up in a frail, tiny whisper, "Dad, if it's too much trouble for Fiona, please forget it. I grew up poor. We barely even had a television, but I always had this silly dream of being on screen. I guess... I just don't deserve it."

"Of course you deserve it!" Eleanor's heart broke for her instantly. "Fiona can make it happen, can't you, sweetie?"

She looked at me with pleading eyes. "Fiona, Chloe suffered out there for twenty-two years. Now that she's home, this is her only little dream. Can't you help her out? Just this once?"

I looked at the three of them.

Richard wore a face that said this is already decided. Eleanor's eyes were filled with maternal guilt for someone else, and Chloe maintained her fragile, pity-inducing mask.

"Fine," I said flatly. "Just this once."

Richard's brows furrowed in annoyance. "What kind of attitude is that?" He raised his hand as if to slam the coffee table.

Eleanor quickly stepped in to defuse the tension. "All right, all right! Family should help each other out! Let's not make a big deal of it!"

I stood up. "I'm heading back."

At the front door, I glanced back over my shoulder.

The dining room chandelier cast a warm, golden glow over the scene. Chloe was peeling an orange for Richard, while Eleanor watched them both with a glowing, contented smile. It was the picture-perfect image of a happy family.

I pushed open the door and stepped out into the dark.

Pulling out my phone, I opened my banking app and checked my savings balance.

It had ticked up a little more.

Almost there.

I'm so close to having enough.

Once I reach that number, to hell with all of them.

I flagged down a yellow cab on the corner.

"Where to, lady?" the driver asked.

I thought for a second. "Take me to that convenience store near the studio lot."

"That far out? No meter. Hundred and fifty bucks."

"Eighty."

"One-twenty!"

"One hundred flat, or I'm taking the next cab."

The driver looked at my hoodie and sunglasses, snorted, and grinned. "Alright, get in."

The next day on the set of the reality show, I had just finished my makeup when an uproar erupted outside my trailer.

"Chloe brought afternoon tea for everyone!"

"Whoa! Are these pastries from that Michelin-starred French bakery downtown?!"

Chloe was standing beside a massive, ultra-luxury motorhome, directing her assistants as they handed out high-end desserts to the crew.

She beamed sweetly at the production team. "Thank you all for working so hard! The trailer has ice-cold air conditioning. If anyone's exhausted, please feel free to go in and rest!"

The crew cheered enthusiastically. "Chloe, you're amazing!"

"Thank you, Queen Chloe!"

I turned away and began walking back to my staging area. Passing two grips, I overheard them whispering:

"Has Fiona ever treated us to so much as a coffee?"

"Forget coffee, did you see the gossip blogs yesterday? She was caught stuffing free craft burgers into her bag again! She's supposed to be an actress, but she dresses worse than I do. You know how much her plain white t-shirt costs? Ten bucks on Wish!"

"Talk about night and day."

Sure, I don't waste cash on flashy gestures. But did they really think the show's daily craft break magically existed on its own? It was because I had pulled strings with the executive producer.

My phone vibrated. My manager, Brenda, sent a text: [Fiona, have you checked Instagram?]

I tapped open the app.

#ChloeBennettTrueHeiress

It was trending at number one.

#ChloeBennettLuxuryTrailerOnSet

It was at number three.

I clicked into the tags. The comments were overflowing with praise:

[Now THIS is the grace of a real billionaire's daughter!]

[Generous, thoughtful, and stunning. We stan.]

[Compare her to that cheapskate D-lister Fiona - the difference is glaring.]

Scrolling down, I saw my name.

Someone had snapped a photo of me stepping out of Chloe's luxury trailer. In reality, Eleanor had called and demanded that I drop off some vitamins for Chloe inside.

The caption read: LOL, look at Fiona leeching off Chloe's private motorhome.

Top comment: Broke-ass behavior.

I closed Instagram just as an incoming call lit up my screen.

It was Eleanor.