Collide Into Ruin

Hallie paced the length of her hotel room, her phone clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles had turned white. The harsh glow of the screen illuminated her face, but it did nothing to soften the fury twisting her features. Four calls. Four damn calls telling her the same thing—her roles were being recast, directors were suddenly "going in a different direction," producers were "reevaluating their choices."

She had spent the last hour screaming into the phone at her PR team. Demanding. Threatening. Pleading.

"Get those damn videos scrubbed from the internet!" she seethed into the receiver. "I don't care what it costs, I want them gone!"

Her publicist's voice wavered. "We're doing everything we can, Hallie, but the damage—"

"I don't want to hear about the damage, I want solutions!" she snapped. "I don't pay you for excuses."

But she knew, deep down, it was too late. The videos from last night's party were already viral. The drunken slurs, the barely concealed rage, the way she had thrown her drink at that reporter who had dared to ask about Sabrina and Daniel—

It was a PR disaster of epic proportions.

Her phone buzzed again, another incoming call. This time from her agent.

"What now?" she snarled, swiping to answer.

"Hallie, I need you to listen—"

"I swear to God, if you tell me I've lost another role—"

Silence stretched for a beat too long. Her stomach twisted.

"It's not just roles, Hallie," her agent said carefully. "It's endorsements, brand deals. They're pulling out. The studio isn't happy. The investors—"

A guttural scream ripped from her throat as she hurled her phone across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack, bouncing to the floor, the screen shattered.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she clenched her fists at her sides. How had it come to this? After everything she had done—after all the manipulation, the careful planning, the lies—she was the one falling apart.

And Sabrina was winning.

A slow, sickening realization settled over her.

No.

She wouldn't let this be the end of her.

Her nails dug into her palms, her pulse steadying as the anger transformed into something else. Something colder. Sharper. It wasn't fair. She had clawed her way to the top, sacrificed everything—friends, dignity, truth—for this career. And now? It was slipping through her fingers like sand. Sabrina hadn't earned her success. She hadn't fought for it the way Hallie had.

She swallowed down the burn of bitterness and forced herself to breathe. If Sabrina thought she had won, she was a fool.

Hallie stalked toward her ruined phone, scooping it up with deliberate care. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. A slow, dangerous smile curled her lips as she dialed a new number—one she hadn't used in a long time.

When the line picked up, she didn't bother with pleasantries. "I need a favor," she said, her voice silky smooth but laced with venom. "It's time to remind Sabrina who she's dealing with."

A pause. Then a dark chuckle on the other end. "Now we're talking."

Hallie sank into the chair by the window, her gaze drifting out to the city beyond, her mind already weaving a plan.