Page 88 of Love Unscripted
Camille slipped onto theShadow Peakset just after dawn.
No entourage. No announcement.
Simon himself waited near the soundstage entrance, as though he had been watching for her. His blond good looks—once so magnetic—now made her stomach turn. She saw past the polish. Past the tailored jacket and easy smile.
He stepped forward smoothly. “You look beautiful, Camille. Love the disguise, by the way. Wouldn’t have known it was you rolling in here if you weren’t driving the Benz.”
She didn’t respond to the compliment. The oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes; a baseball cap concealed her hair. Jeans and a loose shirt erased her silhouette.
“I want to sign the agreement before we start anything.”
“Of course.” He gestured toward the production offices. “It’s in my office. Ready for your signature.”
“And I have your word that everyone here is on a gag order.”
He smiled faintly. “Nothing is going to be leaked to the press—or heads will roll.”
She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. But she did notice the skeletal crew—essential personnel only. No unnecessary assistants. No gossip-hungry interns. No background chatter.
The script had been modified as requested. No gratuitous violence. No harsh profanity. No nudity.
According to the storyline, Aradia returned to Shadow Peak after a long disappearance. She claimed she had been kidnapped—that she had freed herself. She sought reconciliation. Declared she had changed. Had seen the light. Promised to be a righteous queen.
No more scheming. No more bloodshed.
It was parody.
The subtext wasn’t subtle. The mocking tone mirrored Camille’s own public conversion to Christianity.
She felt it. The irony. The sneer embedded between the lines. But she didn’t react. She was here for one reason and one reason only. To stop the lawsuit that could stall Aaron’s film.
The climactic arc required Aradia to reclaim her throne and oust her younger sister, who had ruled in her absence.
Except—cliffhanger. Her sister rose in the final moments and exposed the truth: Aradia had not been kidnapped. She had abandoned her people to save herself. She did not deserve the crown. The betrayal came swiftly. A blade in the back. The finalwords echoing across the throne room:The queen is dead. Long live the queen.
Camille played it to the hilt.
The choreography of the confrontation. The emotional beats. The stunt coordination. The dramatic lighting.
Thursday, Friday, Saturday went smoothly.
When Aaron called in the evenings, she was careful. Vague.
“I’m catching up on a few things I couldn’t do while filming Esther,” she told him.
It wasn’t technically a lie. She could not have filmedShadow Peakwhile filmingEsther. Still, conviction pricked at her conscience. She felt the slope beneath her feet—subtle, slippery. She chose to focus on the end rather than the means.
Sunday morning brought the reckoning.
Call time: 7:00 a.m.
At 7:45, her phone vibrated.
Aaron.
She stepped between sets, heart pounding.
“Hi,” she answered softly, breathless.
