Chapter 22

Justin caught my gaze through the camera lens—his seething anger flaring yet  constrained by the broadcast.

LIVE CHAT FEED

“Is she for real? She drew first and snagged the best place?!”

“She’s so shameless!”

“No way she got it fair—totally shady.”

“Honestly, Justin offered—shouldn’t she be grateful?”

“Privileged much? Get her off All-Around Worker!”

Hope she trips and disappears forever.”

Great. Just what I needed.

---

We arrived at the dilapidated four-story building—our temporary home.

Basements housed the cheapest rooms: bare bones—bed, table—no bathroom, shared facilities, $50/day.

First floor was empty—just an entryway.

Second-floor “Haunted House”: fine decor, chilling backstories—exaggerated blood stains, nooses, hidden holes, giant stick figures. Justin’s room even included a ‘stove mystery meat’ and ants (yes, real ants). He looked green. Duke, lucky the comedian’s place didn’t scare her into a literal heart attack.

Fourth floor—our rooftop storage rooms: half a rooftop each, crammed full of discarded furniture—wardrobes, doors, cribs. Cleaning it alone? Impossible.

The director called wrap for the day—tonight, we stayed at a nearby hotel. Move-in was tomorrow, live.

No sooner had I dropped my bag than Justin pushed through the door.

“Why’d you fight me for the rooftop?” he demanded.

“Because I want it.”

He frowned. “Give it to me. I need it.”

“Need?” I felt myself smirk. “Why?”

“Can’t you afford the rent? You’ll be kicked out.”

“You sound worried for me—or yourself?” I teased. “Anyway, I’ll win this challenge.”

Silence.

He stepped closer, leaning in meanly. “Fine. If you won’t give it, I’ll get you removed.”

“I didn’t climb in my bed to get on this show: no, sugar-daddy bedroom here,” I replied coolly.

His eyes were sparking. “Are you seriously saying someone financed you and you’re ungrateful?”

I stopped. “Even Lilith didn’t need to bed anyone to get hers. She’s yours by blood. You think your resources are free?”

He stiffened. “My body? My name? I earned this fair and square. If you hadn’t been born into this, none of this would’ve gone your way.”

He opened his mouth to retort but faltered.

“Keep trying to pressure me and you’ll regret it,” I whispered. “I am your sister—by blood, by right. And that matters more than your status now.”

He fell still. No words came.

As I walked out, I added, “When they burn ghost-money for you, I’ll be there first—your blood sister. If you want Lilith’s lineage, maybe in your next life.”

He paled, clutching his stomach—pain from nerves, or guilt?

---

Avery paced toward me—an urgency in every step. He’d seen the stream. Fury and disappointment clouded his face—frustration that I’d gone alone, suspicion that I’d traded something for this.

He asked, hurt: “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted this?”

It wasn’t pity. Protective, sure—but hurt. He couldn’t even hide it.

I paused. “I told you I wanted help. But I found a way myself.”

He winced. “I’m sorry. I want you to depend on me. Please—trust me.”

I shook my head. “Why can’t I get things on my own? Why do you always assume I’m corrupt?”

His face softened. “Because you’re my sister. And I was scared for you.”

I sighed. “Snow Moon’s brothers are weird. One tries to boot me. And the other begs me to lean on him.”

He stepped forward, but I dodged, catching a glimpse down my back—blood—bright and slow.

That was from pushing too hard earlier, I realized. I take a breath, steadied. An ache—and a sign.

There, in the cracked concrete hallway, under the harsh studio lights, we both knew this was far from over.